by Andy Briggs
Jake was impressed that he’d achieved the impossible by teleporting the aircraft, but it had left him weak and trembling. He tried to fight the temptation to log on to Villain.net to feed his cravings, but the desire was just too strong. He briefly wondered if Basilisk had known the enormity of his powers?
He dropped to the floor of the hangar, feeling light-headed. Immediately he dealt with the president, his secretary of defense, and the remaining Secret Service staff by encasing them in a crystalline coating as Chameleon had done to him, briefly, in the shopping mall. Mr. Grimm had suggested the power, saying that the coating would allow them to breathe, but they would be nothing more than statues.
Jake walked from the hangar, wobbled into the stone passageway beyond, and then collapsed.
He awoke in the largest bed he’d ever been in. Judging by the stone walls he was still in the castle— his castle, as he corrected himself. At the end of the bed a television was playing a twenty-four hour news channel. The main story was the sudden disappearance of the president while aboard Air Force One. No mention was made of flying villains or superpowers.
Jake sat up in bed, and noticed there was a drip attached to his arm that snaked away to a computer at the side of the bed. The screen showed that the computer had been logged on to Villain.net. It was the same setup Basilisk had used to keep him alive.
He was feeling much better until he noticed that he was still wearing the same clothes. He stank. Here he was, a supervillain with his own Transylvanian castle lair … and he couldn’t afford clean underwear.
The door opened and Jake felt a little disappointed that there was no spooky creak. Mr. Grimm entered, and Jake noticed the two punctures on his forehead.
“You’re awake,” he said without preamble. “Feel able to walk?”
“Well, I could use a shower, some clean clothes, and food. But yes.”
“Food is being prepared and there are clean clothes in the bathroom.”
Jake looked questioningly at Grimm. “Prepared by who?”
Mr. Grimm looked as if he was about to snap a reply, but instead took a deep breath. The tension on his face eased. “Forgive me, times are stressful and I need to be elsewhere. I have hired a servant for you. He’s a mute called Igor.” Jake grinned and was about to joke about the name, but Grimm continued. “You have fourteen hours before you hand the president and his staff over to Chromosome.” Grimm hesitated as though he was about to say more.
“Where? I don’t think I can teleport that thing again.”
“I will give you the details closer to the time. But you can dispose of the aircraft. Chromosome only wanted it to vanish for shock value.” He pointed to the television screen. “And I’m sure you can see you have achieved that.”
Mr. Grimm appraised Jake. Although his face didn’t register it, his voice had an edge of respect. Not encouragement, like Jake had received from few people other than Basilisk, but genuine respect.
“Nobody has ever achieved what you did. Nobody.” Jake felt a warm feeling of pride; it wasn’t something he could remember feeling before. “Your powers are greater than even I thought. And I tell you now, people from both sides will ask you to do things you do not wish to.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “Will you?”
“I will certainly urge you in one direction. Only you can decide what is best.”
Jake was surprised. He was expecting flat-out denial from Mr. Grimm, but instead he’d been told what appeared to be the truth. Jake felt the tension in his shoulders relax a little. He nodded toward the computer.
“How long was I hooked up to this for?”
“I found you unconscious when I returned, which was about eight hours ago. The Web site seems to be the only thing keeping you alive right now.”
“Do you know what powers I downloaded?”
“While unconscious? Who knows what happened. You have a bond with Villain.net that you need to break before you become a slave to it. And as far as I can tell, you will still have to download powers in the regular way. If you do not, then they seem to become … jumbled.”
“Jumbled? I don’t understand.”
“Your old friend, Warren Feddle … Scuffer. What you did to him was unprecedented.”
“I don’t know what I did to him.” Jake’s face hardened. “But the idiot deserved it.”
“I’m sure he did. But no power exists in the world to do what you did.”
Jake sighed. “I know that. Chameleon told me that my body’s acting like a … chemical lab. I just want to know how to control it.”
“That is the question, isn’t it?” Mr. Grimm glanced at his watch. “I must leave. Igor will serve you in the kitchen, and then I suggest that you greet your guests and feed them. We don’t have to be barbarians.”
Igor turned out to be a six-foot-tall thirty-year-old man, with the sort of chiseled good looks that Jake associated with movie stars. All images of a hunch-backed dwarf vanished the moment Igor smiled and laid a five-course meal on the table. Jake had stared at the array of food, enough to feed a football team. It was the only substantial thing he had eaten for more than a month. He felt a wave of sadness once again as he thought about his mother’s Sunday lunches. He finished quickly and headed to the hangar.
It took him ten minutes of wrong turns and backtracking before he got there. Mr. Grimm had taken the president and his secretary of defense out of their crystalline prisons, and they now sat on chairs to one side of the crippled aircraft. They stood defiantly when Jake entered.
“Hello,” said Jake, unsure just what to say to the most powerful non-super man on the planet.
The secretary of defense sprang at him with a waggling finger. “This is an outrage! I demand you return us to the nearest United States embassy at once and hand yourself in for kidnapping the president! How dare you! You’re nothing more than a … a … kid.” He finished lamely as he suddenly noticed that was exactly what Jake was.
The president stared at Jake with a glimmer of recognition. “I know you. You’re …”—he racked his memory—“Jake Hunter.”
Jake was surprised—but Igor ruined the moment by arriving with a trolley of food and drinks. He barely gave the president, the smashed Air Force One, or the secret service—guards who were still frozen in crystal—a second glance before leaving.
“Help yourself,” said Jake. “The beef’s excellent. So you know me?”
The president sat down and crossed his legs in what he hoped was a relaxed manner. “I never forget a face that threatens to throw the world off its axis and asks for my air force to hand over its stealth fighters.”
It took Jake a moment to remember how the president knew his face. Then it occurred to him. “Ah, the video demand.” Events just weeks ago were a distant memory. He wondered if that was a side effect of the superpowers. Basilisk had convinced Jake to deliver a ransom demand to the world’s leaders. He had sworn that Jake’s face would be digitized, but it seems that was just another of Basilisk’s hollow promises.
“Yes, the demand. A ransom that you never got.” A defiant smile crossed the president’s face.
Jake shrugged and turned to examine the frozen security guards as if they were museum exhibits. “I didn’t want any of that. I was being used.”
“Used? You were in cahoots with Basilisk! I’ve crossed swords with that creep before. That makes you my enemy, even before you kidnapped me!”
Jake whirled around, his voice raised.
“Basilisk is my enemy too! He used me! He turned me into some superpowered freak. I hate him!”
The president was surprised by the fury in Jake’s voice. The president knew all about the world of Supers, and though Jake was just a fourteen-year-old boy, the president knew that Jake was just as dangerous as any dictator armed with weapons of mass destruction.
“That changes nothing, Hunter.”
Jake calmed down a little, but began pacing the hangar with his arms behind his back. He stopped in horror as he realiz
ed that pacing like that was exactly what Basilisk used to do. He wondered just how much Basilisk had got inside his head.
“Look, I’m really sorry to have to do this to you. Seriously, I am. But it’s for a good cause.”
“You threaten me, you threaten the country. Scum like you make the world live in fear for their safety. So forgive me if I don’t share your enthusiasm. You do realize that within minutes the marines will burst through that door and kill you?”
Jake smirked. “I don’t share your enthusiasm about that. Nobody’s going to be saving you. But on the plus side, I have no intention of harming you. In a few hours you’ll be out of my hair when I hand you over to Chromosome.”
All pretense of being proud and noble vanished from the president’s face the second he heard the name.
The secretary of defense gave a little burble. “Chromosome? You plan to hand us over to that …” The word never made it to his lips; he was suddenly too nervous.
Jake watched them carefully. Obviously they were aware of the danger they were in, and the fact they might not live much longer was weighing on their minds. Jake tried not to think about it. He knew he shouldn’t get involved. It was like bullying—you never can bully your own friends, you’re too close to them. He tried to change the conversation.
“Try and eat. It’s not poisoned, I promise.”
“Why are you doing this, son?”
Jake looked up to see the president was hunched forward in his chair, studying Jake carefully.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m the president of the United States of America, try me.”
“Like I said, you wouldn’t understand.”
The president sat back and folded his arms. “Is that because I’m a politician … or an adult?”
Jake smiled slightly. He might as well tell the truth; he had promised himself he was through with liars and lying.
“I’m doing this so that I can get my family back.”
“I know that feeling, Jake.”
“Sure you do.”
“I do. I told you that I crossed paths with Basilisk before. He kidnapped my daughter. If it wasn’t for a superhero called Chameleon, I wouldn’t have gotten her back alive.”
Jake bit his lip. He thought it wasn’t the best time to mention that he wanted to kill Chameleon as well.
The president reached for the inside of his jacket—then hesitated. “I’m just reaching for my wallet. There’s no gun there.”
Jake shrugged. “Wouldn’t do you much good if there was.”
“Fair point.” The president took out his wallet and opened it to show Jake a picture of his wife and two smiling daughters. “That’s my family.”
Jake took the wallet and stared at the photograph long and hard. He recognized the first family from TV.
“I have a family too,” piped up the secretary of defense. “A son and daughter and my wife … well, she doesn’t really count because I think she’s about to divorce me—”
The president kicked him in the shin to silence him.
“We’ve all got families, Jake. And we all think ours is more important than anyone else’s. Fact of the matter is, your family is just as important to you as mine is to me. And if you hand me over to the Council of Evil, forget about how the country will react. It’s my family who will suddenly lose their father.”
Jake stared at him and regretted getting into a conversation. He handed the wallet back.
“If I let you go, you get your family back. I still lose mine.”
“If the Council has taken them, perhaps I can help?”
“I doubt it. My family is free. They just don’t remember me. A ‘hero’ called Psych erased their memories. They don’t remember me at all. In fact, they can’t even see me.”
“That is tough.” Jake stared at him. The president seemed sincere, but Jake’s dad had always told him that the best actor in the world was a politician wanting your vote. “However, I can help.”
Jake shook his head and turned away.
“I’ve already got help.” He walked to the door and turned just before leaving. “Please, eat. I’m not the evil dirtbag you think I am. My fight’s not with you. You’re just a normal guy. I’m out to get the Supers. I’m sorry any of this happened. Serves me right for opening spam e-mails.”
Jake wasn’t at all tired, so he had to find something to take his mind away from thoughts of his family and the fate of the people he held as prisoners in the bowels of his castle.
He ascended the single tower, and looked around his sparse command center. He flicked on a couple of television monitors, which played various news channels. At home he never watched the news, as he didn’t care what was happening in the world. But right now he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. There were reports from Tokyo, Chicago, and London about street battles. The footage showed military tanks and ranks of riot police—but never who they were actually fighting.
Jake knew though. On another monitor he could see the ticker at the top of Villain.net revealing the news faster than the reporters at the scene. Without heroes to stop them, the villains were running amok. A criminal called Wildfire was playing loud rock music in the streets of Chicago as he caused untold mayhem and derailed an L train. A team of thugs unfortunately named Union Jacks were robbing banks and jewelry stores in London, and somebody with a name Jake couldn’t pronounce was toppling buildings in Tokyo.
He tore his eyes away from the screens, flicking one of them on to a loud music channel, and stepped out on the balcony. He leaned on the parapet as he soaked in the view of the jagged mountain peaks. It was night, but the skies were clear, offering a spectacular celestial sight. He remembered stargazing with his dad many winters ago, before he’d grown up into … into the obnoxious, ungrateful bully that he’d somehow associated with being “cool.” He wondered where his life had all gone wrong. Ordinarily he would have blamed his parents, but now he just couldn’t bring himself to.
He was a product of his own mistakes, and he had to live with that. A burning smell caught his nostrils and he looked down to see that his hands were glowing white-hot and burning through the stone parapet. He shook them out immediately. Basilisk had once told him to use his anger to trigger his powers, but now it seemed any emotion triggered them. He’d have to be careful in the future.
His cell phone vibrated. It was a text message from Mr. Grimm, with instructions and times to hand over the president. A second one from Grimm arrived on its heels. Jake read it twice to make sure he was reading it right.
CHROMOSOME WILL TRY TO DOUBLE-CROSS YOU. IF SHE DOES NOT GIVE YOU PSYCH’S LOCATION, THEN DO NOT GIVE HER THE PRESIDENT. IT IS OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT YOU
Jake sighed, that’s all there was. Grimm obviously was not a fan of sending abbreviated text messages, otherwise he could have got the whole thing in one text. A third message arrived moments later.
FLEE IF YOU MUST. DO NOT LET HER FOLLOW YOU BACK. DO NOT LET HER HAVE THE PRESIDENT FOR NOTHING. WATCH YOUR BACK!
Jake Googled his destination and made sure he had enough photographic references so that he could teleport there with the president and his entourage. Then he headed down to the hangar to prepare them.
The image of the president’s family hung in his head, and Jake felt doubt gnaw at him. If Chromosome was planning to double-cross him, then he was going to get very angry.
In the stillness of the Romanian night there appeared to be no activity in the single-spire castle. Chameleon watched from a mountain peak opposite; in his lizard form he was as still as a gargoyle. When he did move, it was like a whisper through the dark. He flew across the valley and latched on to the sheer cliff walls. He could still see the solitary light burning in the tower. There was no sign of movement.
Chameleon had hacked into Mr. Grimm’s files at the Foundation. Grimm was a contractor hired to fix problems that the Hero Foundation couldn’t or wouldn’t, so there was very little in his records other than the meticu
lously documented reports on the various operations he had performed for the Foundation. This was classified material, and something that Chameleon should not have been privy to. It felt like reading the files from a corrupt government rather than the squeaky-clean Hero Foundation. But he supposed that was what Mr. Grimm was usually hired for—dirty work.
He was annoyed not to find anything incriminating, so he forced himself to read through the files again. This time he noticed a reference to seizing a castle lair from a notorious supervillain Baron Von Gloom, and a photo of the castle itself. Usually a defeated villain’s assets would be utilized by the Foundation or sold for a profit.
Chameleon sighed. He remembered reading about the old days when the Foundation would donate such buildings to orphanages and hospitals. How times change, even for the good guys.
Chameleon cross-referenced Von Gloom’s castle with the Foundation’s main database but drew a blank. It appeared to be missing. It was such a large oversight for Grimm to make … unless it was deliberate. Could Grimm have kept the asset for himself? It was a thin lead, but enough to raise Chameleon’s suspicions. He left the Foundation HQ in secrecy and teleported to Romania.
Now that he was here, Chameleon knew he had little choice but to infiltrate the castle and poke around. He glanced down at the flat valley below, and hesitated. It was unusually flat. He recalled reading that Baron Von Gloom had a penchant for aircraft—so he guessed that the valley must be an old landing strip.
Chameleon flew headfirst down the cliff and landed gently. The ground was firm beneath his clawed feet, and covered in dirt and brambles. He had guessed right; it was obviously once a landing strip but with nowhere to shelter aircraft. Curious, he turned to examine the sheer wall and began probing around. Villains were a predictable lot, and there was no doubt a—CLICK! A section of the wall pushed inward under his clawed hand and the cliff rolled apart; the seams between the two doors had been artfully blended together.
