by Andy Briggs
Grutt had been a lesson to Chromosome not to be so impatient. If she held the hero hostage, she might yet be able to coerce Jake into assisting her hostile takeover.
Then she would kill Psych.
Jake took shelter under the trees on the university campus. It was a hot day. Sweat rolled from his brow and his skin itched like crazy. He had put on some sunblock, but still his photosensitive skin prickled.
Grimm had provided him with a picture and a location. The man formerly known as Blizzard was now tutoring at the Sisli Campus of Istanbul University, under his real name of Amr Munir. He was teaching trainee nurses, the job that he’d had before he began fighting crime around the world.
Jake was standing between the main building and the parking lot. He didn’t want to risk approaching Munir in public, and he didn’t want to cause a fight. His plan was straightforward. He would wait until Munir was somewhere secluded and then he would ask for help in locating Psych.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and in the distance, Jake could hear the distinctive singsong voice calling Muslims to prayer. Munir walked from the building, circled the entrance fountain, and crossed through the lot toward his car. Jake hid behind some trees and watched him. Amr Munir was handsome and Turkish, in his mid-fifties with a fine head of gray hair, and deep brown skin with a bushy mustache. He wore a pale beige suit and held a briefcase, looking every bit the respected tutor. He held himself ramrod straight, but Jake noticed a limp, most likely an old war wound from his superhero days. He climbed into a black S-class Mercedes and pulled away.
Jake shot straight up in the clear blue sky. There was no cloud cover, but he knew if he climbed up just a few hundred feet a casual observer on the ground would think he was nothing more than a large bird. He followed Munir’s car as he turned right at the gates and followed the circular route to get onto the main 0-1 highway that ran through this part of the city.
Jake paid close attention to which black car he was following. If he so much as glanced away he could end up following the wrong one. The three-lane highway was busy with commuter traffic and trucks. He trailed Munir eastward as he followed the road in a big U-turn and approached the more residential areas of the city. These sat on the banks of the Bosporus Straits, the wide body of water that cleaves Istanbul in half and actually separates the European and Asian continents. If Jake had recalled anything from geography, he would have known Istanbul is the only city in the world that sits on two continents. But at least he remembered they had a halfdecent national soccer team.
Ahead, Jake could see the sun glinting on the wide stretch of water, and the highway continuing across the Straits on the Bosporus Suspension Bridge that links the continents. Talking to Munir in his car would be the most discreet place available.
The Mercedes rolled onto the bridge. Jake flew ahead and perched on top of the bridge’s first tower, three hundred and fifty feet over the road, and waited for him to pass. As Munir drew near Jake launched himself straight down. His stomach lurched as he headed for the Mercedes’s roof at high speed. At the very last moment he phased through the car and landed on the backseat with such force that the entire vehicle rocked.
Munir stared in the mirror, aghast. His car swerved across the three lanes and into the emergency lane in a clamor of car horns. Munir stamped on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt. Momentum slammed Jake’s head against the back of the passenger seat.
“Who are you?” Munir demanded as he turned around.
“My name’s Jake Hunter.” Jake studied him to see if he recognized the name. There was no response. “I don’t mean you any harm.”
“Get out of my car!”
“I need your help, Blizzard.” Again he looked at the man for a reaction, but there wasn’t one. For a second Jake thought he had followed the wrong vehicle.
“My name is Amr Munir, and I ask you again to leave.”
Munir wasn’t reacting the way any normal person would if somebody phased through the roof of their moving car. His reaction told of years of experience with Supers.
“You used to be known as Blizzard, formerly a member of the Justice Federation before you went into retirement.”
Munir locked eyes with Jake for a second. Then he suddenly lifted his hand and fired his superpower at Jake.
A feeble spray of snow issued from his hand like the last dribble of a spray can. It floated pathetically in the back of the car.
Munir shook his hand in frustration. “Darn it!”
“Take it easy! I just want to talk.”
The Turk wasn’t listening. He examined his fingertips with a look of sadness. “Fading so quickly now,” he murmured. Then he looked at Jake, the defiance gone from his eyes. “Are you here to kill me?”
“I told you I just want to talk. Who would try and kill you anyway?”
“I made many enemies during my time with the JF. Villains carry heavy grudges.”
“Tell me about it,” Jake muttered. “And what’s with your powers? Do they grow old too?”
“Alas, yes. That is why most of us volunteered to share them with the Hero Foundation. What I would do to have them back… It’s a heavy loss to bear, like losing an old love.” He looked dreamily away for a second, before scrutinizing Jake. “You are a Downloader?”
“Does it show?”
“Teleportation, flying, and phasing through my car roof. Yes it shows. Normally you would expect to fly, perhaps shoot ice from your fingers … and then have another, almost useless, power such as spoon bending. Downloaders are fortunate. They have a choice. So why did you seek me out?”
“I need to find your colleague Psych. Can you tell me where he is?”
“Why do you need him?” Jake heard the disapproval in Munir’s voice.
“He wiped out my family’s memories of me. They don’t see or recognize me at all. I want them back.”
Munir considered this for a moment.
“If I knew where he was, or even his real name, then he has no doubt wiped that from my mind. He was always a rebel, never listening to orders and running up huge gambling debts. I was glad to see the last of him.”
“I thought you superteams were all good friends?”
Munir laughed loudly. “Ah, you’re so young! No. That is what led to the disbanding of the Justice Federation. It was fun for a while, but we soon learned to dislike one another’s habits. Small things led to big arguments. One time one of us accidentally burned down a whole apartment block because Psych used all the toilet paper!”
Jake smiled. He knew that feeling.
Munir continued. “But Psych, he was a problem. One step away from being a villain, in my mind. And which side are you on, I wonder?”
“My own.”
Munir nodded, satisfied with the answer. “He caused waves with another member of our group, a very pretty girl who went by the name of the Hooded Harrier.” He smiled at Jake expectantly, and then shook his head when it became clear the name meant nothing.
“Before your time. She was beautiful. Scottish and a fiery temperament to match. They had a thing for a while, but of course, like a lot of relationships with colleagues, tension rose. Arguments started and they split up. Overnight, that was the end of the Justice Federation. Defenders of world security, champions for the oppressed … disbanded because of a failed love affair.”
Jake felt suddenly uneasy as Lorna popped into his mind.
“Would this ‘Hooded Harrier’ know where Psych is?”
Munir nodded. “I heard they kept in touch for a while; we all did. But most of us went our separate ways, retiring from superhero life and choosing more sedate careers.”
“Can you tell me how to find her?”
“Your quest to find Psych means that much?”
“It means everything to me. That’s all that’s keeping me going right now.”
Munir sized him up, and then closed his eyes, relenting. “Then I will tell you where to find her, Mr. Hunter. But don’t expect the warmest of receptions from he
r.”
“Tell me where to find the hero they call Psych.”
A deep rumble answered the question, a sure sign that Ernie, the artificial intelligence, was thinking. A holographic display projected a large, constantly shifting blob. Ernie had originally been programmed with a human face, but his constant sarcastic expressions had driven everybody to distraction, so it was replaced with a sphere, which twisted and contorted according to how busy the system was. Ernie had already modified his own programming and added a color scheme to indicate how he felt about the tasks asked of him.
“There is no current record of his location on file.”
Chromosome thought that might be the case. She looked around the empty chamber, with its walls padded with triangular noise suppressors so conversations could not be overheard. The room was designed as a secure access point to communicate with Ernie. There was no typing, no logs that could be traced, and nothing that could be hacked into like a conventional computer.
“Have you cross-referenced his name with any information on the Justice Federation?”
Ernie’s color changed to a dull red, a sign of annoyance. “Of course I have, as well as pseudonyms, lists of villains he convicted, and school records. Not one of which assisted in tracking him down.”
Chromosome scowled. She hated talking to Ernie; his tone reminded her of her first, and only, boyfriend. He’d been sarcastic too, right up until his last words. She didn’t regret killing him, but would always remember him sneering, “Yeah, right. As if you’d be able to stab me with that claw!”
“Ernie, you are capable of quantum processing, analyzing data at incredible speeds and through multiple dimensions. Surely you can predict where he’d be?”
Ernie rumbled again as he digested the request, and his color returned to neutral white, a sure sign he was computing the possibilities.
“It could be possible. But it will take a lot of processing power to compute a possible future. That is indeed an interesting task for a change.”
Silence filled the chamber. Chromosome crossed her arms and impatiently drummed her fingers on her elbow. “Well? How long will it take?”
“If I take all nonessential systems off-line, then, maybe two days.”
“We only have hours. Do what you have to.”
Ernie ran everything on the islands: security systems, sea and air defenses, every computer terminal in the citadel, and everything else—including the vending machines.
“And, Ernie, if anybody asks, don’t tell them what you are doing. This is a priority Council operation, Need to Know Only security. And I’m the only Council member who needs to know.”
Taking almost every system off-line would raise a few eyebrows, but Chromosome was racing against time. She had to find Psych. Her plan depended on it.
Jake examined the printed map in his hand. The hard rain had made the ink run so that it was almost unreadable. Ever since he had arrived in Glasgow, Scottland, it had been raining from charcoal skies. He had flown around the city for several minutes before finally following the Clyde River southeast to a place called Rutherglen.
He landed in a bank of trees at the side of a railway track and walked out into a drab housing development. The burned-out car next to him told him everything he needed to know. Monotone four-story blocks of apartments surrounded Jake and made him feel hemmed in, reminding him of Diablo Island. Loud music and raised voices echoed eerily around the concrete canyons. The few Christmas decorations that were on display did nothing to cheer the place up.
Jake found the building he wanted and took the outdoor staircase, which smelled like a public toilet, walking up to the top floor. He looked around in dismay. This was the type of neighborhood that offered few chances for the people who lived here. He had always been a troublemaker, a bully destined to end up on the wrong side of the law, but he had been brought up as a privileged kid. And he was feeling ashamed for throwing it all away. No matter how bad this environment was, he knew most of the people who lived here would turn out better than him.
He reached a door with peeling blue paint and knocked. Jake heard a chain being unlatched, and then the door swung inward. Sandra Sinclair, aka the Hooded Harrier, stared at him. She was almost fifty, but looked much younger, even though she was wearing a fierce expression.
“Hi,” Jake began before the woman sidestepped and he saw a wall of flesh racing down the narrow corridor. He heard a roar like an injured lion, caught glimpses of a blue jumpsuit and powerful shoulders scraping ruts in the narrow plaster walls. Jake focused on an enormous fist the size of a bowling ball—which connected with his face.
Jake was punched over the concrete balcony and sailed across the parking lot, before landing on a rusty van that crumpled like a pancake underneath him, windows exploding.
Although his ever-present force field had cushioned the blow, he still felt groggy. He looked up to see an impossibly huge figure spring down from the balcony. It was Scuffer. Jake had walked straight into a trap. Whether Munir had turned him in, or the Enforcers had just been lucky, he didn’t know. But it served him right for letting even a retired hero live.
Scuffer effortlessly picked up a small car and swung it down on Jake. Jake flipped to one side, dropping to the tarmac just as Scuffer slammed the car onto the van.
Enforcers ran out of Sinclair’s apartment, spreading out on the balcony with their guns trained on the action below. Jake swore at himself for being too careless. He tried to climb to his feet—but another pile-driving punch landed on him. The blow drove Jake one hundred feet backward, smashing through slender tree trunks that lined the embankment of the railway line. The wood splintered with each impact, the trees falling over with a loud crack.
Jake bounced across the railway tracks and rolled for some time before coming to a halt. His breathing was labored. He forced his eyes open. One was swollen. He saw that he was lying in between the tracks next to a railway station. There were only a couple of people on the long thin platform. One was so engrossed in his newspaper that he didn’t even look up. Another was listening to an iPod and singing loudly, and badly, with his back to the action.
Scuffer pushed his way down the embankment, his great deformed head sweeping from side to side as he sniffed the air. The noise was disgusting, as if he had a nose full of mucus. He zeroed in on Jake and roared, one powerful fist pounding into his chest like a deranged gorilla. Jake thought that whatever the mutating power was that he’d cast on Scuffer, it had turned him into a killing machine, one powered not by the feeble intelligence his old friend had once had, but by pure animal instinct.
Scuffer menacingly approached Jake. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jake saw his chance. He lunged at the ogre, grabbing him around the throat and thrusting Scuffer’s head back—just as a commuter train shot past in the opposite direction, horn blaring.
Jake forced Scuffer’s head against the rapidly moving wall of steel. The train windows shattered and metal buckled. For a second Jake hoped that Scuffer was going to collapse. Then the train passed and the brute effortlessly batted Jake away. The impact hadn’t seemed to injure him at all.
Jake leaped to his feet and took a flying jump onto the station platform. Scuffer followed, leaping in one long bound. Jake heard Scuffer land behind him and turned—ducking as a fist wheeled round and shattered the station sign just above Jake’s head.
Jake sprinted up the platform, between the two still-oblivious commuters. Scuffer followed like a charging elephant. Jake knew he could simply fly away; even Scuffer couldn’t jump that high to follow him. But then he would be unable to talk to the Hooded Harrier. He had to get rid of Scuff and the Enforcers if he had any hope of tracking down Psych.
Scuffer was catching up. Jake flew forward, only a few feet from the ground, but fast enough to increase the distance between them and give himself time to think of a plan. To the north of the station was a rail yard with rows of rolling stock. All around the yard was an industrial complex, and reaching into the air,
the steel beams of a huge construction project being built to the east.
Jake landed between rows of heavy iron open-topped hopper wagons that were filled with limestone. He had a moment to think. Scuffer possessed incredible strength, an acute tracking ability, and was able to leap large distances. Jake doubted he could win the battle of strength, and he obviously couldn’t hide for long, so he had to make the most of his other powers. Jake winced as he felt his chest and eye regenerate. This was the first time he had ever been in a situation where he had to outwit the enemy. And the fact that it was Scuffer was just embarrassing.
The ominous crunch of gravel and gruff breathing signaled Scuffer had caught up with him. Jake knelt down and peered between the wheels of the wagons. He could see Scuffer’s feet as he prowled on the opposite side of the freight wagon. Jake held his breath as Scuffer stopped. He could hear snuffling. Then he watched with relief as the feet walked directly away from him.
Jake wondered if he could pin Scuff down by toppling the wagons on him. Evidently Scuffer must have been having a similar thought. …
Jake heard rapid footfalls and instinctively shot into the air—just as Scuffer charged into the hopper wagon with a long running head start. The wagon clanged from the impact and jumped off the track. Tons of freight teetered for a second before toppling over. The cargo of limestone poured out across the track where Jake had been.
Jake hovered above the creature and unleashed an intense radioactive blast. The green wave rippled the air with its ferocity and knocked Scuffer off his feet. The heat was so intense that a section of the rail track he was standing on melted like chocolate.
Scuffer rolled backward, Jake continuing the onslaught until Scuffer smashed into a tube-shaped silver tanker filled with liquid petroleum gas. The radioactive heat detonated the load.
The orange fireball was blinding. An invisible shock wave blasted into Jake and sent him spinning through the air across the rail yard and into a line of flatbed trucks carrying shipping containers.
The explosion blew a crater in the middle of the yard and Jake could feel the heat singe his eyebrows as the fireball rose to the drab clouds like a mini-nuclear detonation.
