“I don’t know any Hero’s password. I’m investigating the death of a licensed Hero.” A second red light appeared next to the first one.
“Password incorrect. Please state the Hero’s password.” Perhaps it was my imagination, but the voice sounded slightly impatient this time. I thought of trying supercalifragilisticexpialidocious as a password, but I suspected this computerized voice would find that about as amusing as an actual person would. I bit my lip, thinking. I would keep quiet until I puzzled out what the voice was looking for.
After a few seconds, a third red light appeared next to the first two. “Password not entered in time. Defensive protocols initiated,” the voice said. There was a slight hissing sound. From the top and bottom of the chamber, green gas started to flow out of the sides.
So much for keeping quiet being the right move.
CHAPTER 14
Caught off guard, I inhaled a bit of the gas filling the chamber. I immediately felt lightheaded. My head swam a bit. Knockout gas, or something more permanent? I choked, coughing a bit before I with effort stopped myself. I needed all the air I had in my lungs to sustained myself until I could figure a way out of here. How long could I hold my breath? A couple of minutes, maybe? I faintly remembered that the world record for holding one’s breath was somewhere around twenty minutes, but I was sure whoever had managed that feat had trained for it. I was trained in many things thanks to being a Hero, but holding my breath was not one of them.
The gas was making my eyes water. I pounded on the portal, sending painful vibrations up and down my arms. By this point I was so turned around and panicked, I was not even sure if the wall I was pounding on was even the one I had stepped through. I stopped hitting the wall. It had not budged, nor had I even succeeded in putting a dent into it. A waste of time and energy and air. The only things I had succeeded in doing was further depleting my body’s supply of oxygen and making my arms hurt. Could I shoot holes in the wall to let some of the gas out, let fresh air in, and buy myself some time? I feared whatever metal I was in was too solid for that to work. I might wind up killing myself with a bullet ricochet. Whether you called it death by gun or death by stupidity, either way I would be just as dead. I would have to take my chances with the gas. At least with it, I would have a little bit of time to figure a way out.
The green gas had filled the chamber by now. Everything was a swirling green fog. My lungs felt like they would burst. Think, Truman, think! I willed myself. Every problem had a solution. I just had to find it. What had the voice asked for? What were its exact words? “Please state the Hero’s password,” it had said. What the hell could that be? What did licensed Heroes know that ordinary people not know? We knew that the Heroes’ Guild maintained a secret and cloaked space station in geosynchronous orbit around the planet. That was not a password, though. The space station did not even have a name. Heroes knew what was really being kept in Area 51. That—or rather, they—was hardly a password either. What could the voice be asking for? What words did a Hero know that others did not?
It hit me like a bolt of lightning. Trying not to breathe in, I started to croak the words I had learned when I had been sworn in as a licensed Hero, a line of which I had most recently seen inscribed on a statue outside of the Sentinels’ mansion—the words of the Hero’s Oath: “No cave so dark, no pit so deep, will hide evil from my arm’s sweep. Those who sow darkness soon shall reap, for in the pursuit of justice, I will never sleep.”
I got the last words out right as black dots were forming in front of my eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. I did not have another idea. My brain seemed to have stopped working anyway. I was dying to take a breath, but I was too stubborn to give in. Once I passed out, my body would take a breath soon enough. My last one, maybe. My life did not flash before my eyes. Whoever said that happens had lied.
The darkness was about to swallow me whole when I heard the voice speaking again, as if from far away: “Password accepted. Please stand by for transport.” The gas started to clear out of the chamber, being sucked out of it as rapidly as it had been pumped in. I could not hold out any longer, and took a deep breath. Though the air was still acrid with gas, making me cough, it was more clean air than gas now. Though I coughed like a drowning man pulled out of the water, I could breathe again. It took a few moments for what the voice had meant by “transport” to penetrate my sluggish mind. I felt faintly nauseous, and not from the gas. It suddenly felt like ants were crawling all over my body, right under the skin. The walls of the chamber melted, like I had stepped into a Salvador Dali painting. As quickly as they melted, they snapped back into the shape they had been in when I first entered the chamber. I had felt this sensation before the times I had used a transporter to teleport up to the Heroes' Guild’s space station. It was a very distinct feeling, and I knew no other like it. I must have been transported somewhere. Since transporter beams traveled at the speed of light and the person being transported was completely unaware of the passage of time during such a transport, I could literally be anywhere now. I hoped I had not been transported to the Moon. Not having breathable air once in the course of a day was more than enough.
The wall in front of me slid up. I bent over and pulled my gun out of my ankle holster. Holding it made me feel better. Some people had security blankets, I had a nine millimeter. I stuck my head out of the chamber tentatively. There was not any green cheese or a crater in sight. Plus, I could breathe just fine. So, I was not on the Moon. Perhaps things were looking up. Other than the fact I was not on the Moon, I had no idea exactly where I was. I stepped out of the chamber. Its portal remained open behind me.
“Welcome to The Mountain, Hero,” the chamber’s voice said, again startling me. “When you wish to return to Astor City, simply step inside again. Enjoy your visit.” The voice sounded pleasant now, rather than having the sinister tone I had detected before. Everyone sounded more pleasant when they were not trying to gas you.
The chamber I had just stepped out of was set into the middle of a rock face. The rock was grey with flecks of white and gold. The rock face extended out for yards on either side of me and above me. It made me feel small and insignificant. It formed the back wall to the cavernous room I was now in. Off to the right instead of a wall was a breathtaking view of the top of snowcapped mountains for as far as the eye could see. There were no mountains like this anywhere near Astor City. I guessed I was somewhere in Asia, or maybe South America. The Himalayas, or maybe the Andes? I was not sure. I was no mountaineer. As I looked at the mountains, transfixed, the view shimmered slightly with a bluish tint before becoming clear again. Though I was clearly at a high enough altitude to see the tops of these mountains, the cavernous space I was in was at a comfortable temperature. That fact and the bluish shimmer I saw made me realize there was a force field separating the space I was in from the elements outside. Force field projectors had been invented some time ago by Mechano of the Sentinels. Though he had not shared the technology with the general public under the reasoning that humanity in general was not yet ready for such tech, he had shared it with the Heroes’ Guild. I had seen the effects of them before.
Directly ahead of me several yards away was a huge, curved computer monitor that was taller than I and even longer than it was tall. Below it was a futuristic-looking computer panel. A single large chair sat in front of it at the focal point of the curved monitor. To the right of all that were several headless large mannequins that had mounted on them identical versions of the distinctive red and grey world-famous costume that Avatar always wore.
Dangling from the ceiling and dotted around the room were various items. Having been an Avatar fanboy all my life, I immediately recognized most of these items from adventures and challenges Avatar had faced over the years. The largest item was the robot exoskeleton Doctor Diabolical had used to terrorize and partly destroy much of Washington, D.C. in the 1970s until Avatar had stopped him. Even with the huge amount of space in the room, the
exoskeleton dominated the space like a rust-colored Colossus of Rhodes. Above me hung the remnants of the alien mothership Omega Man had destroyed in 1966 during the V’Loth invasion. There were so many items I could not take them all in at once. The place was a veritable museum of Avatar’s adventures.
Well, this place clinched it. I had figured out Avatar’s secret identity.
“Great Caesar’s Ghost!” I said aloud. “Byron Hennings is Avatar!” No ghosts, Caesar’s or otherwise, responded. Perhaps they were as surprised as I. Shocked into silence, no doubt. It was times like this I wished I had a sidekick to share my revelations with.
This place—The Mountain, I believed the voice in the chamber had called it—clearly was Avatar’s lair. Just as I did not have a sidekick, I also did not have a lair. I had not seen the need for one before. My private eye office had seemed sufficient. But, looking around at Avatar’s lair, I now desperately wanted a lair. I could call it the Liquid Lair, the Damp Den, or perhaps the Cold Water Cave. Then again, maybe not. Naming things was not my strong suit. I had proven to be pretty good at finding things, though. I would just stick with that.
CHAPTER 15
I walked around The Mountain, taking a careful look around. I had to constantly remind myself to not treat the place like a museum or a shrine to a fallen icon. Rather, it was a potential crime scene and source for clues. While I had figured out Avatar’s secret identity, who had killed him still remained a mystery. Baby steps. One thing at a time.
I took a careful look at all the mementos from Avatar’s adventures over the years. While fascinating from an Avatar fanboy point-of-view, I did not see anything that brought me the slightest bit closer to who had killed Avatar, and why.
After checking out every other nook and cranny of The Mountain, I went over to the computer console and the giant monitor above it. When I got closer, I saw there were several framed pictures resting on the edge of the large computer console. There were more pictures of Hennings and the blonde woman I had seen earlier in Hennings’ apartment, looking as happy as clams with one another. Not only that, but there were also pictures of Avatar in his Heroic form and costume with the same woman. A couple had clearly been taken here, at The Mountain. In one particularly striking picture, it appeared that Avatar was flying while holding the blonde in his right arm. She was kissing Avatar on the cheek as his left arm was extended in front of him, evidently holding the camera the picture was taken with. I examined the pictures of the woman and Avatar closely. She looked at Avatar with same love and affection she had on her face in the pictures where she and Hennings were together. Maybe the woman thought she was cheating on Avatar with Hennings, and vice versa. If so, the joke was on her. It was far more likely she knew Hennings was Avatar. I wondered if she knew Avatar was dead. Based on the look of love on her face in the pictures, she would be devastated once she found out.
The dark computer screen which loomed above me suddenly turning on, bathing me in light. I jumped a bit, startled. The large upper torso of Avatar’s costumed body suddenly filled the screen. In real life, Avatar was a big man. Projected from the huge screen, he was larger still, making me feel like a pygmy. His irises and pupils were as white as the whites of his eyes, making his gaze disconcerting. It was even more disconcerting in light of the fact I had seen Avatar’s body lying dead on a stone dais.
“Hello” Avatar’s voice boomed at me from the screen. “This is The Mountain, my private retreat. This is a recording, set to play automatically twenty minutes after your arrival here. Only a licensed Hero would have the wherewithal to gain access to The Mountain unaccompanied by me. So, I bid you welcome my brother Hero.” Avatar paused, smiling slightly. “If you are a woman, I mean instead sister Hero. I hope you don’t think me sexist. I was born in a time where the masculine was the default. That has changed for the better, but old habits are hard to break.
“There are three possible reasons why you are here. Possibility number one is that you either accidentally stumbled upon my secret identity or deliberately sought to discover it for some unknown reason. The Mountain’s security system is set to send me a signal to let me know if someone gains admittance to The Mountain. Twenty minutes is more than enough time for me to fly from any spot in the world to where you are. If I am alive, I no doubt have already reached you before this recording even had a chance to play. I value my privacy. If you have violated it, you no doubt have already discovered that your actions have irritated me.” Avatar frowned slightly at the last part. Even though Avatar was dead, my skin prickled at the thought of Avatar being irritated with me. When he was alive, Avatar could have literally thrown someone into orbit had he a mind to do so. I would sooner have irritated a grizzly bear.
“The second possible reason why you are here is that I am dead. Perhaps you are one of the Sentinels, investigating who I am to determine if I have any next of kin to be notified. Or, maybe the Sentinels hired you to find out who I am. Regardless, rest assured I have no immediate family. They are dead. I buried them all long ago. Outliving all the people you love is the peril of having an unusually long lifespan, I’m afraid.” Avatar looked sad for a moment. I thought of the man and woman, presumably Avatar’s parents, I had seen in the black and white photos in Hennings’ apartment. Then Avatar smiled wryly. “On the other hand, one of the benefits of having an unusually long lifespan is it gives compound interest a chance to do its work. Though I have never earned very much money, thanks to the power of compound interest and conservative investments, I am now a moderately wealthy man. The bulk of it I am donating to charity. The rest I am giving to the Heroes’ Guild for the purpose of it being used to help train future Heroes. There is a will in Byron Hennings’ name in possession of a lawyer named Randolph Barrett in Astor City. The details of my bequests are in that document. If you will contact Mr. Barrett and inform him of my death, he will know what to do.
“As I said, I have no family. With one notable exception, I also have no close personal friends. Frankly, it got to be too much to watch my friends grow old and die, so I stopped making new ones. The one exception to that is the woman you no doubt have seen photographs of both here and in my apartment. I care for her deeply.” Avatar’s face lit up at the mere mention of the blonde woman in the pictures. I wondered if anyone’s face lit up like that when they thought of or spoke of me. Ginny, maybe, but that was about it. I found myself smiling at the mere thought of her. Ginny was enough. “I will not share her name or where you can find her. It is my wish that you do not attempt to locate her.” Avatar’s lips twisted into a slight grim smile. “I hope a fellow Hero will honor the wishes of a death man. Assuming I am indeed dead. For a dead man, I’m feeling surprisingly spry.” Avatar flashed a grin. Suddenly years fell away, and Avatar looked the way he must have looked when he was a teenager rather than a world-weary Hero over a century old. He then sobered. “She is a private citizen, and I do not want her to be drawn into the public spectacle that no doubt will accompany my death. Because of that spectacle, she will learn of my death on her own soon enough, assuming she does not already know of it.
“The third possibility of why you are here is perhaps the most important. Maybe you have come here in search of a way to defeat me. Perhaps I am being controlled by some outside influence. There are some powerful Metahumans with mental and magic-based powers who have managed to exert a hold on me in the past. Or, perhaps I have merely gone rogue on my own. Though I believe it unlikely I will suddenly reject everything I have spent my entire life upholding, stranger things have happened. As it is often said, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. As far as I know, I am one of only four living Omega level Metahumans, so I have plenty of power ready to be corrupted. Perhaps I have gone rogue without even realizing I have gone rogue. Every villain is a hero in his own mind.
“So, the third reason why I am recording this message is as a fail-safe, a check against my own power. In addition to my other powers, I am invulnerable. If I have run amok, I kno
w of only one way to stop me. Chaos is one of the three other living Omega level Metahumans. He is currently imprisoned in the Metahuman Holding Facility in Western Maryland. His body gives off an energy field that distorts reality. That energy field is the only way I know of to negate the invulnerability of my body. The only way to kill me. That is why I would not permit Chaos to be executed after he was captured. I knew that if there came a time the world needed to bring me to heel, Chaos was the key.” Avatar shook his head. “If there is anyone who deserved to be executed, it’s Chaos. He certainly killed enough people before we subdued him for him to merit the ultimate punishment. But, I made sure Chaos stayed alive because there might come a time when the world might need him. Just like a cobra’s venom is the key to creating an antivenom, Chaos is the key to stopping me.” Avatar’s eyes seemed to be boring into my soul.
“If you have to, use Chaos to kill me. Not only am I giving you permission to, I’m asking you to. Begging you to. If there comes a time I am not acting in the best interest of the world, then the world needs to get rid of me.”
Avatar’s massive chest swelled as he sucked in a big breath. He let it out again.
“So, that’s it. I hope the information I have provided proves useful. Use it wisely.” And, with that, the huge computer screen went dark again.
I let out a long breath. I shook my head sorrowfully. Seeing Avatar again looking as alive as I was made me mourn him anew. He was so concerned about the damage he might do if he ran amok that he had made a point to record this message telling the world how to defeat him. No, not just how to defeat him. How to kill him. A man who thought about the welfare of others more than he did about himself was a hero by any measure. WWAD: What would Avatar do? The answer was to sacrifice himself so that others would not be put in danger.
Superhero Detective Series (Book 4): Hunted Page 18
