by Andy Briggs
Jake tore his gaze away from the laptop and looked around the dark basement. His ears strained against the silence. Minutes earlier he had slipped out to see if he could find Knuckles and Big Tony again. They were as predictable as ever, skipping class. This time they saw Jake first and ran.
Jake had been forced to hide in the shadows as a pair of teachers passed, quietly talking about their Christmas holiday plans. By the time they had passed and he’d made it out to the parking lot, he was greeted by a surprising sight.
Knuckles lay crumpled against a teacher’s battered car, the alarms shrieking. Jake had been in enough superfights to recognize the great force that must have hit him. But the only person around was the weedy Professor kid he always picked on, who was sprinting away from the scene. Jake shook his head. Obviously Professor had witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to see. The kid just wouldn’t be able to understand the world of superpowers.
But that did leave an alarming conclusion—there was a Super loose in the school. Could it be Chameleon again?
He headed back to the basement to gather the laptop and cell phone. He didn’t want to lose his only link to Villain.net. The Web site was the only thing that could feed his power addiction and keep him alive. The placebo Chameleon had pumped through him at Diablo Island was no substitute either. He was sure that would have eventually killed him too.
“Mr. Hunter,” said a voice in the shadows.
Jake whirled around in a battle stance, but didn’t fire any powers. Not until he could see his target.
Mr. Grimm stepped from the shadows, offering a thin smile. He clasped his hands together and regarded Jake with curiosity.
“Who wants to know?”
“A safer answer would have been no. Your answer was a confirmation.”
Mr. Grimm took another step forward, and Jake tutted. “Better not move again unless you want to be toast. I asked you a question.”
“My name is Mr. Grimm. I have a message for you, from your benefactor. An arrangement to meet and discuss business.”
Jake frowned. He felt uncomfortable with Grimm’s superior tones. “And just who is my benefactor?”
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you that. Suffice to say, they thought a meeting arranged by a middleman such as myself would be safer for you both. The details will be sent to your phone, which, incidentally, is how I located you. Until this evening, sir. Good afternoon.”
Mr. Grimm took a step back into the shadows.
“Wait!” Jake ran forward, but Grimm had vanished. Jake threw over a table with a loud clatter, as if expecting the man to be hiding under it, but there was nobody there.
If Grimm had been sent by the Hero Foundation, he would have run in, guns blazing. Likewise, he would have thought the same for the Council of Evil. Basilisk and Chameleon had warned him that both parties wanted him as a superweapon, a fact that just added to Jake’s goal to eliminate both sides. Each was as crooked as the other.
His thoughts were disturbed by a female voice. “Hello?”
Jake’s head snapped around, and he raised his hands to fight. Then he hesitated. Lorna Wilkinson was staring at him with wide eyes. Jake blushed and lowered his hands, guessing that he must look like a complete idiot.
“Hello, Lorna. Great to see you.” And he meant it. Lorna was the first person he’d met in a while who didn’t judge him. She’d asked him out on a date weeks ago, but he hadn’t been able to make it as events with Basilisk had gotten out of control and he’d turned into an international fugitive, nearly died, and then been imprisoned. It had been a bad few weeks.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking around to see if they were alone. She spotted the laptop and frowned.
Jake moved so that he blocked the view of Villain.net on-screen.
“I … er … I’m hiding.” He thought honesty was the best policy when dealing with Lorna.
“Everybody’s been talking about you. You’re a hero at school.”
Jake blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Yeah. Whatever you did to the woodwork wing has meant we’re off school for the next two days while they knock it down.”
“Cool.”
“What’s happened? You’ve been missing for ages since I asked … er … mentioned … you know … hanging out.”
“It wasn’t you, I just … got kicked out of my home.” Jake rolled his eyes; so much for honesty. “My dad got a little crazy … you know how parents are.”
“Kicked out?” Lorna looked around the room. “You’re staying here? At school?”
“Just for tonight, till I can work things out.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yeah. Who’d have thought I’d be spending more time here than anyone else?”
Lorna laughed, then thought for a moment. “You could stay at my house.”
Jake hesitated.
“In the garage. My parents won’t be using it. If it’s just for the night? Then maybe tomorrow we could … go somewhere?”
Jake was touched by the generous offer. He looked around the basement as the lunch bell rang above them.
“It would sure beat sleeping here again. Okay, thanks. Just for the night though. And I have to go somewhere first, so it might be late by the time I get to your house. Like midnight, late.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
She gave him a broad smile, which Jake matched. Then they both looked around awkwardly.
“I better go,” said Lorna. “See you tonight?”
Jake nodded. “Count on it.”
Burning with embarrassment and excitement, Jake watched Lorna run back up the steps. It left Jake feeling happier than he had been in a long time. The mobile on the desk vibrated, signaling he had a text message. No doubt it was instructions to meet his mysterious benefactor.
CLUNK! Chameleon stepped back as the bulky steel clamps moved away from the giant figure that was pinned to a vertical table. The staff at the Higher Energy Research Organization had named it, after much thumbing through dictionaries, Teratoid.
What was once Warren Feddle, known to his friends and enemies alike as Scuffer, was now a lumbering mass of contorted flesh and rippling muscles. Standing eight feet tall, Scuffer was unrecognizable except for his face, which was puffed and distorted. A dark blue jumpsuit covered his body, leaving his enormous hands and feet free.
Enforcers had found him like this on the outskirts of Moscow after Hunter had used a previously unknown superpower on him. Foundation scientists still didn’t know what Hunter had done, but guessed it was a mutated combination of a teleport power and some kind of strength increase.
“Feddle?” Chameleon said from a safe distance. The brute did not seem to hear. Instead he was studying the pneumatic clamps that still bound his ankles and wrists. Since he had been discovered unconscious in the snow, the boy had seemed to have almost no memory of who he was. In fact he now possessed the learning capabilities of a dog. And even with his dubious school record, that did not bode well for Scuffer.
“Teratoid?” said Chameleon. He hated the name, but the scientists studying him had thought it appropriate. Still no response. He sighed. “Scuffer?”
The beast responded with a grunt; his nickname was one of the few things he did remember. “We’re going to let you out of your chains, but you must do something for us. Do you understand?”
Scuffer made a gurgling sound and strained against his shackles. They had let him loose a few times, and at first he had behaved. That was until he got into one of his rages and became a wrecking machine. His strength was pushing the upper scales of any Prime ever recorded, plus he had the speed, agility, and peculiar teleport jumping power that made him a deadly opponent. The Enforcers kept a titanium shock collar around his neck, ready to stun him if he got out of hand. Chameleon knew that if the brute ever figured out that it was the collar that was keeping him prisoner he would tear it apart. For now, his stupidity made him manageable.
; With another asthmatic hiss of pneumatics, the final clamps released Teratoid and he dropped to the floor with such force the room shook. Scuffer sniffed the air and faced Chameleon with a dopey expression.
“If this is what Hunter can do to his friends, God help his enemies,” whispered Chameleon to a scientist next to him. “Scuffer, we have a special mission for you. One that allows you to go outside.”
Scuffer grinned—he understood that. His true skill was in tracking. The researchers were baffled as to exactly how this power worked, but Scuffer could track almost anybody, anywhere. Chameleon rolled his fingers across a plastic box that contained Hunter’s blankets from his cell on Diablo Island. There should be scent enough on them to launch the Teratoid.
There would be no saving him then.
* * *
Mr. Grimm had created his own teleportation portal to take him and Jake to the rendezvous with his benefactor. It was a rippling oval that hung in the air. There was no sense of traveling, no sickening feeling Jake was used to after he’d teleported in the past. Mr. Grimm beckoned and Jake placed one foot in and poked his head through.
Passing through the portal was like walking through a door. Jake’s right foot was on a lush green hill, thousands of miles from the concrete his left foot was standing on. Mr. Grimm stood waiting for him.
“All the way through. We don’t want to be losing any bits of you.”
Jake stepped completely through.
“Wow. That’s a much better way to travel.”
“Yes. Portal shifting is much more civilized. Apparently it involves wormholes and bending space and time, but it only allows the passage of a couple of people. It’s all very … quantum.”
Jake took in his new surroundings. They were on a small island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean called St. Helena. Jake had been surprised, after searching the Internet, to find that it was owned by Great Britain. It turned out to be a green lump over a thousand miles off the coast of Africa.
It was night by the time Jake reached the meeting point on top of Mount Actaeon. Below him, slopes were covered in coffee plantations. From his vantage point, Jake had a clear view of the ocean to the south. It was a perfect place to meet, with very little cover so that neither side could launch any nasty surprises. A pleasantly warm breeze ruffled his hair, and for a moment he imagined that he could forget all his problems.
“So, can you now tell me who I’m meeting?”
Grimm pointed to the horizon. “Your appointment is arriving now.” He pointed to the east, where a circular craft soared over the hills. It was black, had no running lights associated with conventional aircraft, and was as silent as a ghost.
Jake felt a little uneasy and couldn’t shake the image of a flying saucer out of his mind. But those thoughts vanished when the craft got closer—now he could tell that it was about the length of a bus, with a distinctive triangular logo painted on the flanks, the letters COE underneath. It was a Council of Evil shuttle craft.
“You tricked me!” he snarled. He clenched his fists and flames engulfed his hands like fiery boxing gloves. For the first time, Mr. Grimm displayed an emotion—fear.
“I assure you it’s not what you think.”
“The Council wants me as much as the Foundation,” growled Jake. “That’s not going to happen.”
“I understand. But this is not a Council matter. This is more … political.”
Three landing skis extended from the Council ship as it landed close by. A ramp unfolded from the belly of the craft, and Jake could hear footsteps approaching. He held his breath and willed every superpower he possessed to be on standby.
“Mr. Hunter, may I present your benefactor,” Grimm said with a flourish as he pointed to the ramp.
When Jake saw the figure, he hesitated, his guard momentarily down. This certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.
On the Trail
Chameleon crouched low behind a bank of trash cans that had been set alight during the fight. He looked around and saw that three Enforcers were on the floor groaning in pain, another two seemed to be dead. Chameleon himself was exhausted. He had been working hard these last few months and was finally realizing he was burned out. Shortly after releasing Teratoid he’d had to teleport here to try to control a situation that had developed.
He poked his head up and peered beyond the flames. The entire street was destroyed, cars aflame, some lying on their hoods. Alarms sounded from every building. What had once been a pleasant street in Rome was now a war zone, the damage so severe that the government would have a hard time covering it up.
The uncontrolled fires in Banca Popolare Italiana billowed into the night sky, and a figure walked out covered in intense blue flames. He went by the name Inferno—and he was staring in disbelief at the armful of burning euro notes he was cradling.
“My money!” he bellowed in a gravelly voice.
Chameleon rolled his eyes. Inferno wasn’t the brightest of villains. But even the dumb ones were making the most of Hero.com being off-line. The Web site was more than a place to download superpowers; it provided trusted field operatives with information on the villains they were facing. Without it, Chameleon had no idea what Inferno’s weak spot could be.
He ducked back down as Inferno roared in frustration, shooting a massive plume of fire skyward. He was about to pick himself up to try to stop the villain again when his earpiece chimed. He answered quickly, hoping the sound hadn’t attracted the attention of the fiend.
“What?” hissed Chameleon in a whisper. “I’m a little busy right now.”
The voice on the other end was a fresh-sounding Californian surfer type, obviously one of the new Enforcers who had been drafted at short notice.
“Dude, I was told to tell you that, like, Tera … te-ra … however you say it, has, like, lost the other dude.”
Gunfire erupted at the end of the street as the Italian military finally arrived with a pair of armored Humvees. Chameleon cupped his hand against the noise as he tried to think. He hated the Enforcers’ communications systems and had requested they outsource the job to a more reliable company.
“Teratoid?”
“Yo, that’s the one.”
“He’s lost Hunter’s trail?”
“They said, like, they’ll resume tomorrow. Or somethin’ like that.”
“That was it? The whole message?”
“Oh, man, wish I could remember.” In the long pause that followed, a blazing Humvee twisted over Chameleon’s head and smashed against a wall. “Oh yeah, I remember now. Something about that dude … um … the kid you mentioned who’d sprung from jail. They found a spy at Dibilobo … that prison. Spy said he was working for …” There was an intake of breath as he tried to recall the name. “Chromosome?”
Chameleon was shocked. “I’ll report in later.” He cut the communication link before the surfer dude could hear the despair he now felt.
Chromosome had decided to step into Jake Hunter’s life. How could things get any worse?
Many things struck Jake when he saw Chromosome descend from the COE shuttle. The first was that she was incredibly beautiful. Just under six feet tall, with long blond hair held tight in a ponytail and the looks of a supermodel—not really surprising, since she had vainly reengineered her own genetic structure to be perfect. She didn’t need makeup; it was all “built-in.” She wore a silver one-piece suit with black boots and a metal belt buckle with the logo “XX.” Jake wasn’t aware that it signified that, genetically, all women have “XX” chromosomes, and men had “XY”—that’s what really distinguishes boys from girls.
The second most striking thing ruined the whole illusion of perfect beauty. About a hundred chrome spiders, all identical and the size of tarantulas, scuttled from the ship and covered the ground around her while others raced across her body. Her Legion. Jake wasn’t afraid of spiders, and he’d often taunted his sister with large specimens at home, but the sight in this context unnerved him and he took a step back.
She regarded him with keen blue eyes. “So you are the one they all talk about?” Her accent had a South African twang.
Jake nervously eyed the metallic-skinned spiders that patrolled the area but kept away from him. He noticed Mr. Grimm allowed several to crawl across his shoes, although he didn’t look too happy about it.
“Suppose I am. You’re the one who gave me the phone?”
“Yes. I didn’t think a full-scale attack on Diablo was warranted when you had the ability to slip out. My name is Chromosome.”
“And you’re a member of the Council of Evil, right? Let me guess, you didn’t want the Hero Foundation discovering how I can absorb and amplify so many powers. And you thought that it would be better if I worked for you?” Jake had been thinking about it a lot, and he’d been drawing up his own plans in response.
Chromosome gave him a dazzling smile. “Of course. But don’t let my transportation confuse you. I am one of the eight members of the Council. We represent the epitome of evil, so I am told. Think of us as a government, and like all governments, people wish to overthrow us, like your pal Basilisk.”
Jake tried not to let his emotions show, but Chromosome saw the anger in his eyes.
“Somebody you no doubt would like to get hold of? He’s still alive, you know.” Chromosome circled Jake as she talked, always her Legion scouting the ground ahead. “And like governments, we have internal power feuds happening all the time. I sent one of my supporters to help Basilisk bring down the Hero Foundation. She’s still with Basilisk now, in fact. Shall I tell you where?”
Jake knew she was taunting him, and he liked her less with every passing second. Jake wanted to get his hands on both Basilisk and Chameleon, but that would have to wait until after he won back his family.
“I’m not going to work for the Council,” he said, tensing because he anticipated a violent reaction. Instead, Chromosome laughed pleasantly.
“Good. I don’t want you to, either. I will be blunt with you. I am tired of my fellow Council members and wish to replace them. The whole organization will run more efficiently with a woman’s touch, don’t you think?”
