Dark Hunter

by Andy Briggs

  For a few moments nothing stirred except the fragmented, burning remains of the tanker and the dull patter of rain. Black smoke covered the yard like dense fog.

  Jake tried to climb to his feet but fell over—his leg was twisted completely the wrong way, a shard of bone poking out. He felt a jolt of pain but knew his super-powers were smothering the agony he really should be feeling. With a crack his leg twisted around of its own accord, and rapidly began to heal.

  He had been surprised by the power of the blast; it was surely a giant killer. Then he noticed movement in the smoke and Jake’s mouth fell slack. Scuffer was rising from the flames, his skin red-raw and covered in cuts. He pounded his chest and roared to the sky.

  Jake was beginning to get a sinking feeling that his old pal Scuffer was indestructible. That would pose a huge problem.

  Final Destination

  Technicians across the hangar were all talking at once as they tried to access the computer systems and internal phone lines. They were all getting a “system busy” message. Chromosome had entered the hangar with a few of the Legion in tow. It was a colossal space, housing the discus shuttles used by the Council. They were fast, undetectable by radar, and comfortable, ranging in size from private shuttles to large troop carriers containing mobile communication hubs—essentially a series of monitors and video cameras for each of the Council members so that they could talk to villains worldwide in the privacy of cyberspace without having to leave the island.

  Chromosome preferred the smaller shuttles, like the one Hunter had destroyed on Liberty Island. But getting to one right now was proving difficult. Since Ernie had rerouted all processing power at her request, the entire island had become chaotic. Initially manual alarms had rung out to indicate they were under attack. When it became clear that Ernie had powered everything down, suspicion moved toward the rogue supervillain Basilisk and his team, who had successfully crippled Hero.com. Was he turning on Villain.net too? Repeated requests for Ernie to respond had revealed nothing.

  It had taken a while for Chromosome to reach the hangar, as the corridors were full of staff running like worker ants. At one point she had seen Fallout looming through the corridor and she hid. He could well be one of her coconspirators, but without confirmation she didn’t want to run into any other Council member who might delay her.

  Chromosome walked quickly along the raised platform at the back of the hangar where the key transportation offices were located—Air Traffic Control and the Command Post, which was her destination.

  Inside, the Command Post looked like most car service depots, with a counter bisecting the room and a bored-looking man sitting on a stool behind it. He looked nervous when Chromosome entered and put down his Playstation PSP as the Legion scurried to close the door behind her.

  “Chromosome, ma’am. I was not expecting you here today.”

  “I need a shuttle.” Chromosome thought back to the old days when being a villain was something you did for fun, working off your gut instincts. In those days there would be no problem jumping in the pilot seat of an aircraft and taking off. But with the current Council of Evil regulations there was so much paperwork.

  “Uh, the computers are down at the moment.”

  “So? My business can’t wait! Give me the ignition card.” Like some modern cars, the shuttles could only operate if the pilot had the right ignition card, similar to a credit card, which unlocked the ship and started the engines.

  The man licked his lips nervously. It was never good to argue with a Council member. But still, these were the Council’s own rules.

  “Do you have a B161 form?”

  Chromosome laid both hands on the counter and leaned forward, smiling brightly. When she spoke her voice was seductive.

  “I don’t need those silly forms, do I?”

  The man broke out in a sweat and he felt as if his brain was trying to seep out of his ears. He knew the rules, but the sweet melody of her voice convinced him everything was fine.

  “N-no. Of course not.”

  “Then give me an ignition card for a shuttle.”

  The man half turned, then the nerdy clerk side of his brain kicked in and he frowned as he remembered something.

  “But you already have one out …”

  A flash of annoyance crossed Chromosome’s face, breaking the spell. Her persuasion powers only worked if she could keep a light-hearted tone, and right now she was feeling so stressed that she snapped.

  “It was destroyed, you fool! That’s why I want another! And, no, I refuse to fill out any of your ludicrous insurance forms again!” She had tried to report the shuttle loss through the Council’s automated telephone system, but got lost when she pressed the wrong number on her phone’s keypad. The phone system was evil incarnate.

  The clerk had now fully recovered himself, and he crossed his arms defiantly.

  “Then you know the rules, ma’am. I just—”

  “Please! You must!” The charming voice was back, and the man was briefly reminded of his daughter asking for some present for Christmas. He smiled and patted Chromosome’s hand without realizing what he was doing.

  “Of course, don’t worry. I’ll sort it out.”

  He tapped a code into a safe under the counter and withdrew a small card, which he handed over to Chromosome. She snatched it, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Now what’s the magic word?” he said in a fatherly voice.

  Chromosome was feeling too angry to keep up the pretense. She placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

  “Thank you. You will tell nobody about this.”

  She removed her finger—and the man’s smile faltered as skin rapidly grew between his lips. It had the consistency of melted cheese, but the stringy flesh soon covered his mouth until he looked as though he’d been born without one. Then his nostrils sealed themselves too, and the man fell to the floor, suffocating as he clawed at his face.

  Chromosome watched his struggle with interest, then remembered that she had to stop casually killing people like this. It would get her into trouble, and she didn’t have time to dispose of this body like she had with Grutt. She quickly crossed the hangar to the shuttle, where she would wait until Ernie announced Psych’s location.

  What she wasn’t aware of was that Grutt’s remains had been found, and at that moment Necros was staring at the pile of bones and robes and coming to correct conclusions. …

  Scuffer shattered the railway sleepers with a single punch as quickly as Jake could chuck the heavy concrete slabs. Scuffer’s entire body looked both raw and, in patches, black from where he had been burned, but he showed no signs of pain. If anything it seemed to make him angrier. Jake had attempted to take to the air the moment he saw Scuffer was still alive—but instead he fell flat on his face.

  His flying powers had deserted him once again.

  Jake was shocked. Chromosome wasn’t around to cancel them out, so he knew they must have permanently disappeared. As part of him was fused with Villain.net and his powers had been amplified, he had assumed that he no longer needed to download specific powers. The last few times he’d logged on to Villain.net, he had just downloaded from any icon he liked the look of. Now he remembered that he had only selected two, rather than his usual four powers, before leaving the castle. He was paying the consequences, and he just hoped nothing else ran out.

  He’d been so engrossed with his thoughts he hadn’t realized Scuffer was next to him until a mighty fist closed around his neck and pitched him into the steel cargo container. Luckily Jake’s force field absorbed the damage.

  Scuffer pressed his twisted face closer to Jake and loudly sniffed at him. Jake recoiled; Scuff smelled as if he’d been living in a sewer. As the grip tightened he was finding it difficult to breathe and he realized that Scuffer was trying to pull off his head.

  “Scuff! It’s me … Jake …,” he spluttered.

  Scuffer seemed to relinquish his grip—but Jake’s relief was brief. Scuffer yanked Jake awa
y from the container, then repeatedly pounded him into the steel. With each impact Jake could feel his strength ebb as the metal crumpled around him.

  “Scuff! Warren … Feddle! That’s your name!”

  Scuffer hesitated and pulled Jake closer for scrutiny. Overhead, a pair of Chinook helicopters appeared; the tail ramps opened and a squadron of Enforcers aimed their weapons out of the door.

  “Scuff … we used to be friends. Remember?”

  Scuff grunted. It could have meant anything, but Jake chose to interpret it as a sign of recognition.

  “You don’t want to hurt me, do you? Remember the fun we used to have?”

  Scuffer’s eyes narrowed, and Jake wondered if he’d suddenly triggered a bad memory—such as what Jake had done to him in Moscow after he’d tried to rob him.

  Bellowing with rage, Scuffer tossed Jake overhead like a ball. Jake soared through the air, completely out of control. For a horrible second his vision was filled with twin whirling rotors as a Chinook banked into position—but Jake was traveling fast enough not to get caught in the rotors’ suction.

  Jake curved back to earth and crashed through a row of parked commuter trains that had been covered in graffiti. He soared through one window, across the car and out through the opposite side in a shower of glass. He landed hard across the steel tracks, and felt the cold metal of a rail press into the back of his neck. He suspected that his shield’s strength was beginning to weaken, and he felt a little wobbly.

  He silently berated himself for not being better prepared. He was so consumed with finding Psych that he had failed to take care of himself.

  He looked up through bleary eyes to see Scuffer bound across the yard in a single leap. The ogre landed on the track next to Jake and roared savagely. Jake tried to move—but the entire weight of the mutant was suddenly on top of him. Scuffer pinned Jake’s arms with his knees, then punched him repeatedly across the face. Jake felt a tooth knock loose. Another punch cracked his jaw—which he felt snap back into place, a fresh tooth pushing from his gums as he healed.

  Jake tensed his body, but only had free movement with his legs. He kneed Scuffer in the small of the back, but it was like kicking a rhinoceros.

  Then Jake felt his neck tingle and realized it was because the train track was vibrating. Scuffer punched him again, and now he was facing the right direction to see a train speeding toward them. It was probably slowing down as it passed through the rail yard, but it was still easily doing seventy miles an hour.

  Jake tried to push Scuffer aside, but for some reason he felt heavier than anything Jake had lifted before, as if his entire body had become denser, and Jake could only lift Scuffer a few inches.

  Scuffer cupped both his hands together to form a huge fist to mash Jake’s head. With his hands pinned down, Jake had only one option left. He squinted his eyes and hoped that he had correctly recalled the icon he’d carelessly clicked on.

  A beam of red energy shot from Jake’s eyes—and hit Scuffer full in the face. The beast fell backward, giving Jake the opportunity to slip free and roll off the track. He jumped to his feet—just as four hundred and sixty-six tons of Pendolino train struck Scuffer right in front of him!

  Jake had to fight for his balance to avoid being sucked toward the express. The train’s brakes screeched in a shower of sparks as it attempted to stop. Jake saw flashes of startled faces peering from the windows at him as it passed.

  Jake half expected to see limbs scattered across the tracks, but instead was astonished to find that the collision with the train had done nothing more than to throw Scuffer across the yard and into a row of boxcars.

  “He’s completely indestructible!” Jake exclaimed aloud.

  He glanced up at the Enforcer helicopters circling like vultures. The soldiers had not fired a shot; they were enjoying the fight too much. The Chinooks were hovering just beyond the range of his powers.

  Jake glanced at Scuffer as he climbed to his feet, shaking his head woozily. At least the express train had had some effect on him. Jake looked across at the construction site, and his own advice rattled through his mind. He had to outthink Scuffer.

  Unable to fly, Jake had to resort to sprinting across the yard as fast as possible. He reached into his energy reserves and hoped he possessed some type of super-speed … but his luck had run out.

  Scuffer saw him run and beat his chest. That gave Jake precious seconds to reach the fence separating the rail yard from the construction site. He fired his radioactive blast ahead of him as he ran, and jumped over the molten metal as it formed a puddle.

  Luckily the construction site was empty. All types of machinery lay around it: bulldozers, JCBs, cranes, cement mixers. Port-O-Potties lined the edge of the site, built around a towering steel skeleton of red iron girders that stretched up, forming the core of a new ugly tower block.

  A plan was forming in Jake’s mind. He didn’t like it at all, but it was the only thing he could think of.

  Scuffer bounded into the yard with a howl. He picked up a dirty yellow dump truck with both hands and lobbed it overhead. Jake jumped aside. The truck smashed into the mud beside him and flipped less than an inch over his head before landing upside down, and providing cover between him and Scuffer.

  Jake rolled behind the truck and slid into a drainage ditch. He scurried forward on his hands and knees, spitting out the foul brown water that splashed into his mouth.

  Scuffer was puzzled that he couldn’t see Jake. He lumbered over to the truck and lifted the machine, expecting to find his prey underneath the scoop. He flipped it back onto its wheels with a howl when he saw that Jake had escaped. Then he raised his nose to the air and sniffed hard, his head turning as he caught the scent. Jake was crawling out of the ditch on the other side of the site. He ran for the iron girders and started to climb the steel frame like a lizard.

  Jake was thankful he hadn’t lost his climbing ability. As he reached the fifth floor he glanced down to see Scuffer looking up at him and pacing back and forth as he decided whether or not to follow.

  Jake laughed to himself. “You’re as dumb as a dog, Scuff old pal.”

  Scuffer walked around the framework as Jake reached the tenth floor and edged across the narrow steel beams to the side of the structure opposite Scuffer.

  From the top, Jake had a good view of Glasgow. The river and hills to the north, drab housing developments to the south. He waited for Scuffer to follow him around before he extended both hands and fired a supercharged radioactive blast to the ground … but what came out was a feeble splutter of energy.

  “Aw, no!” wailed Jake. His old faithful power had deserted him too. He screamed, annoyed with himself for having let his powers dwindle so much, especially after using them so heavily. It was one thing to wean himself off them, but a foolish mistake to walk into battle without any weapons.

  Scuffer must have sensed Jake’s anguish because he moved to the foot of the tower. Jake was fairly certain that Scuff didn’t have the balance to climb all the way up. And he was right.

  Scuffer grabbed a beam and started to shake it.

  At first nothing happened. Then Jake felt the iron quiver under his feet, and after twenty seconds the entire tower was shaking as if it was caught in an earthquake.

  Jake’s feet slipped from the wet metal and he fell, latching an arm around a beam to save himself. His feet pedaled the air. His climbing power had just vanished.

  Unable to fly and unsure if he still had a protective shield, he was certain the fall would kill him. Scuffer shook the tower as if he was trying to dislodge a cat from a tree. Jake felt his grip start to give on the slick steel. And then he fell—CLANG!—landing on his back across another cross girder two floors down. He winced from the pain, but luckily his shield was still working to some degree. Jake rolled onto his chest and gripped the girder with his arms and legs. He didn’t suffer from vertigo when he flew, but now that he only had one direction to go—down—he was terrified.

  The sound o
f wrenching steel made him look up. The vibrations had started to loosen bolts. With a ping, steel bolts came free and a heavy girder plummeted down. Jake closed his eyes, his teeth rattling as the falling girder smashed against the one that he was clinging to before bouncing off several others and crunching against the concrete floor.

  He watched as another girder ricocheted from the tower with a clang and smashed into the Port-O-Potties, squashing them flat.

  All around Jake, girders began to collapse and plunge to earth. One barely missed whacking Scuffer across the head. Jake was trapped in a life-size game of Jenga.

  Jake renewed his grip with one arm and extended the other. He just had to hope all his powers hadn’t expired. He concentrated and shot an enormous fire-ball straight to the ground in between Scuffer and a line of construction vehicles. It was a wide shot, and left nothing but a deep impact crater that rapidly filled with water. But the force was enough to throw Scuffer away from the collapsing tower.

  Startled, Jake lost his balance and fell.

  His arms thrashed as he tried to latch on to something, but he rebounded like a pinball as he fell eight stories into the concrete foundations. Seconds later a pair of girders smashed down on either side of him before bouncing like poles and landing in the mud.

  Jake groaned. One of his arms was broken, but the rest of him was in relatively good shape. He could teleport to safety, but where would that get him? He’d have to return at some point to get the information he needed.

  Jake knew he had to fight this one to the end.

  Scuffer pounced on him before he could stand. Jake’s leg felt as if it was being plucked from its socket as Scuffer lifted him by the limb, then tossed him across the building site.

  Jake smashed into the side of an empty cement mixer. He slid to the ground, winded. He watched, mesmerized, as the entire shaking tower collapsed in a thunder of metal, kicking up a cloud of dust that blotted out the ever-present Chinooks.