The Legacy Superhero Omnibus

by Lucas Flint

“All right,” I said, though secretly I wondered if TW was just changing the subject because his own ‘death’ was uncomfortable to talk about. “What’s our lesson for today?”

  “We’ll practice your aiming ability,” said TW, “the power that earned Gregory the name Trickshot.”

  “You mean the one I used on those Injectors back on my birthday?” I said. I mimicked throwing a rock. “When I threw that roof tile that bounced off everywhere and hit all of those guys in the head.”

  “Precisely,” said TW, nodding. “Back then, you only managed to use it because of my help, but this time you will do it under your own power.”

  “So how does the power work, exactly?” I said. “I know you said it is perfect aim, but does that really mean it never misses?”

  “More or less,” said TW. “Assuming your target doesn’t have a shield or take cover behind something, the object you throw at him will hit him in exactly the spot you want to hit him. The way it works is that the object you throw locks onto the target and will take whatever path necessary to get the target.”

  “That’s really cool,” I said. “Do I have to actually throw the object to make the power work or does it work with a gun, too?”

  “It works with guns and other projectile weapons as well,” said TW, “but it is less effective because you are transferring your energy through the weapon rather than directly into the object itself.”

  “All right,” I said. I looked around the warehouse. “What should I start with first? I need something to throw.”

  “You already have something to throw,” said TW. “Look at your belt.”

  I looked down at the belt of my costume, but did not see anything. “What about my belt? It—”

  I stopped speaking as soon as I saw a blue light glowing on my belt. Before my startled eyes, the blue light slowly turned into a small pouch on my belt, the same colors as the rest of my costume.

  I looked up at TW. “Where did that come from?”

  “The Watch, obviously,” said TW. “Did I forget to tell you that the Watch can remove or add parts of your costume at will?”

  “Yeah, you did,” I said. I tapped the pouch on my belt, feeling its soft surface. I flipped open the lid and pulled out a small, shiny metal disk. “What’s this?”

  “A throwing disk,” said TW. “Gregory created them when he first got the suit. He created them in order to make sure he would always have small objects on hand to throw. They are specially designed to work with your aiming powers, unlike most objects.”

  “So all I need to do is throw them and they’ll bounce around crazily like that roof tile?” I said, flipping the disk over in my hand to get a better look at it.

  “It’s not quite that simple,” said TW. “But with some practice, yes, they’ll not only bounce around, but will also hit your target dead on.”

  “What if I run out?” I said. I patted the pouch. “Doesn’t feel like there’s a whole lot in there. Maybe a dozen at most.”

  “The suit can make more on demand by drawing upon the suit’s energy itself,” said TW. “But only enough to fill the pouch, so I wouldn’t worry about it right now. Let’s start your next lesson.”

  TW pointed at a thin chain hanging from the ceiling on the other side of the warehouse. “See that chain? That will be your target for today.”

  I looked over at the chain. It was very far away from where I stood, to the point where I wasn’t sure I would be able to hit it even if I used my super strength to give my throw an extra boost. But I obviously would not need to worry about the distance, because my aiming powers would make it easy to hit it.

  I raised the disk. “Okay, I’m ready. What do I do next?”

  TW pointed at the chain. “First, lock your gaze on the chain. You must have complete and total focus on your target. If you let your focus slip for even a second, then your powers won’t work. While this will require careful, deliberate practice at first, in the long run it will become second nature and you will be able to do it without thinking.”

  I nodded and focused hard on the chain. It was difficult at first, because the chain was really boring and I found myself constantly distracted by thoughts about Mom and Dad getting home before me and finding me missing again. Still, I eventually managed to focus on the chain itself.

  “Focused?” said TW.

  I nodded again, though without looking at him. “Yeah.”

  “Now pull your arm back and throw,” said TW. “Do it in one smooth motion.”

  I pulled my arm back and threw the silver disk at the chain. As the disk left my hands, I felt some kind of power within me flow into the disk and the disk launched straight through the air toward the chain much faster than I intended. The disk sliced straight through the chain, causing the chain to fall straight to the floor below.

  “Wow,” I said. I looked at TW eagerly. “That was easier than I thought! And on my first try, too.”

  “Yes, you did a good job,” said TW, nodding. “But it will take more than that to master this power. After all, the power of Trickshot lies not in his accuracy, but also in his ability to manipulate the trajectory of his objects.”

  TW gestured at another chain hanging from the catwalk above us. “See that? I want you to throw another disk, but not directly at it. Throw the disk against the wall.”

  I pulled another disk out of my pouch and looked at the walls on either side. I decided to aim at the right wall, so I turned so my back would face TW and I threw the disk at the wall.

  But the disk just bounced off the wall once and fell onto the floor uselessly without hitting anything.

  “What the heck?” I said. “Why didn’t it bounce off the wall and hit the chain like that roof tile did?”

  “Controlling the trajectory of your disk is a lot more complicated than just throwing it directly at your target,” said TW. “As with aiming, you must focus intently on the path you wish the disk to take. You must visualize it bouncing off the wall toward your intended target. Otherwise, it will treat the wall itself as the target, which it obviously isn’t.”

  “I see,” I said, nodding. “But does that mean I have to visualize every area I want it to bounce off of?”

  “If you want it to take a longer path to reach the chain, then yes, you will,” said TW. “Again, I wouldn’t get too worried about it. With time and practice, you will be able to do it with ease. It will become second nature.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Aiming and throwing a disk was easy, but controlling the trajectory of that same disk, having it bounce off multiple targets before it hit the actual intended target, seemed far more complicated than just throwing a disk. But I decided to take TW’s advice.

  Drawing my third disk out of my pouch, I aimed at the wall once again. This time, I imagined my disk bouncing off the wall and hitting the chain dead on, just like my first disk. It was surprisingly easy to do, so once I felt comfortable with the mental image, I pulled back my arm and threw the disk.

  Like before, part of my energy went into the disk as it left my fingers and it flew through the air straight and true. It bounced off the wall, but rather than hitting the floor, it flew up directly toward the chain itself.

  “Aw, yeah!” I said, pumping my fist. “It’s working!”

  But then the disk suddenly wobbled and veered to the left in midair, completely missing the chain by several feet. I watched in disappointment as it landed on the floor, its clanking lamely against the concrete surface.

  “Why did it fail?” I said, looking at TW. “I did everything right.”

  TW raised an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t. You lost your focus as soon as success seemed to be within your grasp.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but then paused and realized TW was correct. “It’s not my fault. I just got excited when I saw it happening.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter whether it is your ‘fault’ or not,” said TW. “What matters is that you lost focus, which caused the disk to lose focus as well. You n
eed to keep your focus on the disk until it hits its target. Otherwise, it will veer off course and end up not hitting anything at all.”

  I didn’t like TW’s holier than thou tone, but I couldn’t argue with his assessment. I pulled another disk out of my pouch and said, “Then I’ll just try again. The suit can make unlimited disks, right? So it’s not like I’m in danger of running out or anything.”

  “Practice makes perfect,” said TW, nodding again. “Now that you know what to do, try again. And don’t lose your focus. Keep the focus on the disk and its target at all times, or at least until it hits the chain.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  But I didn’t get a chance to try again, because just as I raised the disk, the wall exploded.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The explosion sent me flying backwards. I landed hard on the floor and rolled to a stop in front of an empty metal container, my senses briefly dazed before I shook my head and looked over at the wall that had once stood there. Now there was just a big hole in the side of the warehouse, covered in smoke and flames from the explosion, making it impossible to see who had done it.

  “What the hell?” I said, pushing myself up and shaking my head. “What’s up with the explosion? TW, can you see who did it?”

  “Sorry, Jack,” said TW in my head; I realized that he was not floating nearby in his hologram form. “The smoke is as hard for me to see through as it is for you. I have no idea who could possibly have set off that bomb, though I imagine we’ll soon find out.”

  Over the roar of the flames, I heard footsteps coming from the smoke cloud, multiple sets of footsteps, like there were a lot of people rushing toward us.

  All of a sudden, half a dozen Injectors burst through the smoke cloud, each one armed with a high-powered rifle that they aimed at me.

  “There he is!” said one of the Injectors, pointing at me. “Shoot ‘em!”

  All of the Injectors began firing at me. I immediately flew into the air, narrowly avoiding their bullets, and pulled several disks out of my pouch. I threw them all in a hurry, which meant that most of the disks missed, but one of them hit an Injector in the forehead, knocking him down. That seemed to cause the other Injectors to scatter, but they didn’t take their guns off me, nor did they stop shooting. They just kept firing at me, forcing me to do all sorts of aerial maneuvers just to avoid getting shot.

  “How did the Injectors find me?” I said, zipping through the air as I avoided the hail of bullets coming from below. “This doesn’t make sense!”

  “I don’t know, Jack, but I think it might be wiser to flee than fight,” said TW. “There are far too many Injectors for you to take on by yourself. Best to escape and go home. As long as they don’t know your secret identity, they won’t be able to track you down back to your house.”

  “Did you just tell me to run away?” I said, stopping on the catwalk briefly in order to catch my breath. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that. Either help me take down these goons or shut up.”

  “But you’re outnumbered.”

  “I don’t care.” I heard bullets strike the bottom of the catwalk, but luckily none of them had pierced the underside yet. “I’m going to teach these guys a lesson and find out how they knew I was here in the first place.”

  I launched off the catwalk and flew down straight toward the Injectors. They aimed their rifles at me, but I was too quick and landed right in their midst before they could react. I swung my fists this way and that, taking down two Injectors in an equal number of hits, but had to fly straight back up into the air to avoid another volley of bullets.

  Landing in front of the abandoned forklift, I picked up the forklift with both hands and flew into the air, still holding the forklift above my head. Once I got high enough, I threw the forklift directly at the largest group of Injectors. The Injectors scattered at the last second, which was a smart move, because when the forklift crashed into the floor, it created a huge crater and sent pieces flying everywhere.

  Now that the Injectors were distracted, I flew toward them again. I grabbed two of the Injectors by the collars of their shirts and threw them at another pair of Injectors, knocking them down in a confused heap of limbs. I heard some of the Injectors cursing in Spanish, but didn’t stick around to listen to anything else they had to say, because their friends immediately began shooting on me again, forcing me to fly toward the ceiling to avoid getting shot.

  I flew across the ceiling, deftly dodging the bullets that came at me from below, and then rushed toward the Injectors again. They aimed their guns at me, but at the last second, I pulled up, causing them to shoot pointlessly in air. I landed behind the Injectors and kicked one of them in the back, sending him flying forward into another Injector, knocking them both out instantly.

  The remaining four Injectors turned toward me, but I rushed toward them before they could shoot me. I smashed the gun of one Injector before punching him in the face, followed by grabbing two other Injectors and smashing their skulls together before throwing them both aside, leaving only one Injector left.

  The last Injector backed away from me quickly. Though his hold on his gun was steady, I could see the fear in his eyes as he realized exactly just how screwed he was.

  “G-Get away from me, you monster,” said the Injector in a voice that wasn’t anywhere nearly as steady as his grip. “Or I promise you, I’ll sh-shoot and—”

  I rushed forward, knocked the gun out of his hands, and then pinned him to the floor, twisting his arms behind his back and putting the full weight of my body on his so he couldn’t get away.

  “Sorry, buddy, but you started it,” I said. “Now that this is all over, however, tell me how you knew I would be here. Who told you I came here?”

  “I’ll never t-tell,” said the Injector, whose voice was surprisingly sharp now. “It was an anonymous tip, so I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.”

  “Wrong answer,” I said. “I can tell you know, but for some reason you don’t want to tell. Why is that?”

  “I said I don’t know,” the Injector repeated. “It was anonymous. I wish I could tell you, but I c-can’t. Please don’t break my arms.”

  “He appears to be telling the truth, Jack,” said TW in my head. “I don’t sense any deceit from this one. Just cowardice.”

  I decided that TW probably had a point, but I still wasn’t letting this guy go, because he might be able to tell me other things about the Injectors that I wanted to know.

  “Okay, I think you’re telling the truth,” I said, “but I’m still not going to let you go until you answer a few questions for me. First off, where’s your boss, Michael Jones?”

  “Mr. Jones?” said the Injector. “Why do you want to know w-where he is?”

  “You’re not very smart, are you?” I said. “It’s because I want to take him down. If I take him down, then the rest of your little group of criminals will go down with him. It’s pretty simple. So tell me, where is he?”

  Oddly, the Injector smiled. “Why don’t you ask Ferdinand?”

  I frowned. “Who?”

  A large shadow suddenly appeared over me. Before I could react, two large hands grabbed my shoulders and threw me against the other wall. I smashed into the wall so hard that I almost crashed through it, but I ended up just leaving a huge dent in it that was the size of me. I fell to the floor, where I lay briefly stunned before I shook my head and looked over to see just what had thrown me.

  Standing on the other side of the room was a bull. No, it wasn’t a bull. It was a huge, muscular man with the head of a bull. Sharp, curled horns stuck out of his skull, while his massive hands curled into boulder-like fists. He wore jeans, but no shirt, though he didn’t really need clothes given how hairy his muscular body was. He easily towered over me, probably a head or two taller, and was as thick as a brick wall. His brown eyes were strangely human, though they twitched every now and then like he was crazy.

  “Who are you?” I said, rising slowly to my feet, my back
aching from the impact of the throw. “Another Injector?”

  The last Injector stood up, dusting off his clothes, his eyes full of laughter. “Did you honestly think Mr. Jones would send us to fight you alone? Mr. Jones knows that us ordinary Injectors are no match for superheroes like you. That’s why he sent Ferdinand here with us.”

  The giant bull-man—apparently named Ferdinand—snorted and growled. He pawed the floor, his massive feet leaving deep ruts wherever he pawed. I estimated he had to weigh a ton, and that was without the horns.

  “But what is he?” I said. “A genetic experiment gone wrong?”

  “Ferdinand is no experiment,” said the Injector. “He was once one of us, before he volunteered to be injected with Power. Now he has the appearance and physical strength and endurance of a full-grown, very angry bull. It was risky, of course, because Power could have killed him, but luckily that was one batch of Power that worked. Right, Ferdinand?”

  Ferdinand just snorted in response. His eyes seemed to be getting angrier and angrier, as if my very presence was an insult to his existence.

  I gulped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Not even slightly,” said the Injector. He pointed at me. “Ferdinand, kill him!”

  Ferdinand bellowed like a bull and rushed toward me like a runaway freight train. I flew into the air, but Ferdinand suddenly jumped into the air toward me and grabbed me before I could get very high.

  Ferdinand slammed me into the floor hard enough for me to hear something crack underneath me, though I couldn’t tell if it was my back or the floor that broke. Either way, intense pain flowed through my body and for a moment everything went black.

  When my senses returned, I found myself hanging upside down in Ferdinand’s grasp. He was pulling back his other fist, ready to smash me into pulp and, though I was still in pain, I flew upwards, jerking Ferdinand’s hand up and wrenching myself out of his grasp. Ferdinand tried to grab me, but I flew out of his reach and then back toward him. I punched Ferdinand in the face, sending him staggering several feet backward, but he recovered quickly and thew another punch at me, which I dodge by flying into the air out of his reach again.