The Superhero's Son (Book 8): The Superhero's Prison

by Lucas Flint

  I cursed under my breath. I had been hoping to call Mecha Knight and see if he could help, but it was pretty clear that I wouldn’t be talking to anyone outside of the prison for quite sometime, if ever. That meant that I was going to be in here forever without ever knowing why.

  I scowled and thought about who might be able to help. Maybe there was someone within the prison who might know what was going on. But all of the people I knew were my enemies who I had put behind bars, enemies who were just as out of the loop as I was.

  Thus, it all seemed hopeless until I suddenly remembered that there was, in fact, someone in Ultimate Max who I knew and who might be able to help me understand what was I doing here. Granted, he was not a G-Man, but he had been involved with secret government projects about superheroes in the past. Maybe if I talked with him, he would be able to use his knowledge of the government to help.

  But before I could ask Rime if it was possible for prisoners to meet with other prisoners, I heard someone running nearby and looked up to see Mimic running toward us. For a moment, I thought that he was going to try to attack me, but instead, he stopped several feet away from me, coming to a stop and putting his hands on his knees, panting like he was not used to running so much.

  “Mimic?” said Rime, looking at Mimic in disgust. “What do you want? Come to try to fight us again?”

  Mimic shook his head. “Of course not. I want to know how you did it.”

  Mimic pointed at me when he said that, prompting me to reply, “How I did what?”

  “You know,” said Mimic. “I just saw it on the TV. How did you do it?”

  “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I’ve just been standing here talking with Rime and Ivan. So, unless you’re asking me about that—”

  “Oh, yeah?” said Mimic with a sneer. “Then how come I just saw you on the news attacking the White House?”

  “What?” I said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Come and I’ll show you,” said Mimic. “I think the news is still showing the footage.”

  Puzzled but intrigued, I followed Mimic, and so did Rime and Ivan, who looked just as confused as me. We walked all the way to the other end of the prison yard, where an old, small TV had been set up, apparently for the prisoners to watch the news. A dozen prisoners were already crowding around it, making it difficult to see it, but Mimic led us through the crowd until we reached the TV itself.

  The TV was on one of the big major news channels, showing a news reporter talking about an attack on the White House that had apparently happened earlier today. She said that the G-Men and Secret Service were still investigating the attack, but footage from the White House’s own security cameras had somehow leaked online, which gave us a glimpse of the attacker.

  Then the scene on the TV switched, showing footage of one of the White House’s hallways. All of a sudden, one of the blows exploded inward, sending chunks of plaster and wood flying everywhere, the dust briefly obscuring the camera’s view of the place.

  But then a figure stepped through the newly-created hole in the wall, a figure who was briefly obscured by the dust. When the dust settled, it showed a guy in a white and blue superhero costume that looked almost exactly like mine standing in the hallway. The blue stripes on the suit were glowing brightly, and when the guy looked up, his eyes were also glowing the same shade of blue as his costume.

  But that wasn’t the most significant part. The most important part was that the guy’s face looked exactly like mine.

  We saw it for only a second, however, before the guy raised his hand and fired a bolt of blue lightning at the camera, which struck it and instantly caused the footage to go dark.

  Chapter Four

  I didn’t believe my eyes at first. The figure who had appeared in the security footage of the White House looked exactly like me. Same hair style (though a bit messier), same costume (though different colors), even similar powers … but that didn’t make any sense. I was still here, in Ultimate Max, and I didn’t even have my costume.

  I looked at Rime and Ivan. The two of them looked just as shocked and confused as I was, which told me that they had no idea who that guy was, either. The other prisoners were too busy watching the TV to look at me, but most of them were talking to each other and theorizing about the attacker’s identity.

  I looked at the TV again. It showed the news anchor from before and she was saying that the White House had still not identified the attacker. She was saying that the attacker had been fought off by President Plutarch’s bodyguards, while Plutarch himself had gone into a secret bunker where he was going to remain until the identity and location of the attacker could be determined. The attacker had fled before Plutarch’s bodyguards could beat him, but his current location was unknown, though the G-Men were already searching for him and asked anyone who recognized the attacker to come forward with information.

  “So,” said Mimic, still smirking, “do you have a twin brother, perhaps?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t have any siblings at all. I’m an only child.”

  “Then who was that?” said Ivan. “That guy looked almost exactly like you.”

  “A clone?” Rime suggested. “Maybe someone out there created a clone of you in order to frame you for something.”

  “Perhaps that is why you are in jail,” Ivan said. “Your doppelganger framed you.”

  “But I was put in jail before the attack on the White House,” I said. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Well, it certainly isn’t me pretending to be you, if that’s what you were about to suggest,” Mimic said. “Like you, I’ve been stuck in this prison this whole time, though now I wish I had come up with that idea myself. It would have been a good way to get back at you.”

  I stroked my chin, ignoring what Mimic said because I frankly didn’t need his constant jabs in my life. The news was now covering yet another terrorist attack in France, though the anchor said they would keep viewers up to date on the White House attack, but my attention had drifted from the TV now.

  Far too many mysterious things had just happened to me recently. First, I was knocked out and put in prison, despite not being a criminal or supervillain; and second, there was now apparently someone running around pretending to be me, attacking the White House and doing who-knows-what-else. I wondered how much Cadmus and the G-Men knew about this new guy and if he was somehow connected to everything that had happened to me recently.

  Regardless, I knew, more than ever, who I needed to talk with, the only person in Ultimate Max who might be able to tell me what the hell was going on here: A man named Matthew Jason, or who I knew as Grandfather.

  -

  Unlike the other prisoners, Grandfather wasn’t kept in a normal cell or allowed to be out in the prison yard with the others. According to the guard who took me to see Grandfather, this was because Grandfather was considered a ‘special’ prisoner, no doubt due to his connection to the top secret government program known as Project Neo. As a result, Grandfather was kept in Cell Block Z, which was located on the eastern side of Ultimate Max, past six thick steel doors locked with the most advanced locks available, guarded by a dozen of the best SWAT-trained guards in the country, and a whole host of other defenses that the guard was not supposed to tell the other prisoners about. Apparently, the prisoners in Cell Block Z were considered too important by the government to be allowed to mix with the rest of the prison’s population, hence their separation and being given such high security.

  It surprised me that I was allowed to see Grandfather, since I was a prisoner, too, but the guard explained to me that because I already had special privileges to meet Grandfather, I could go meet him even if I was a prisoner myself. But I could only meet Grandfather under strict supervision; there would be at least two guards in Grandfather’s cell with us, plus a security camera recording the entire exchange, just to make sure we didn’t plan an escape attempt. I wasn’t planning to escape just yet,
so this didn’t concern me too much, but I still hated being treated like a criminal, even though I understood that this was just the normal way that most prisoners in Ultimate Max were treated.

  Also, the guard put special handcuffs around my wrists. They were made of a very strong, thick kind of metal that I couldn’t identify, but a few tugs told me that I could probably break it if I used my super strength. The guard told me that if I did that, the cuffs would unleash a cloud of powerless gas that would instantly de-power me, which would render my efforts to free myself useless.

  So, like the good prisoner I was, I allowed the guard to take me to Cell Block Z without any fuss. I could see the powerless gas swirling around inside the tiny metal box that connected my cuffs together, which brought back bad memories of my past experiences with the stuff.

  Aside from the doors and the presence of more guards than usual, Cell Block Z looked just as dreary and boring as the rest of Ultimate Max. The actual cells were blocked off with thick doors made of Indestructonium, so I couldn’t see who the other prisoners of Cell Block Z were. I couldn’t even hear them on the other side; the guard reassured me that this was intentional, because Cell Block Z had the best security in the entire place due to the importance of the prisoners being held here. Aside from Grandfather, the guard didn’t tell me who else they kept in this part of the prison, which was just as well, because I wasn’t keen to meet some of the worst supervillains in the country.

  Grandfather was kept in the second cell from the back wall, almost the very last prisoner in the Cell Block. We stopped in front of the door to Grandfather’s cell, which was already protected by two men in Indestructonium armor and carrying guns that had powerless pellets in them. The guard told the other two that I was here to meet Grandfather, so the two let me in, though they also came in with me to monitor our conversation.

  Grandfather’s cell was much like mine and Ivan’s, except even smaller. It didn’t have any windows to the outside; the only illumination came from a light in the ceiling, which was very small and dim in comparison to the lights in the rest of the building. In fact, Grandfather’s cell felt almost like an abandoned broom closet rather than a prison cell, as if it had been hastily added onto the construction of the rest of the prison at some point without too much thought.

  Then I saw Grandfather himself.

  The last time I had seen Grandfather had been a couple of months ago, shortly after he and Grandmother had attempted to steal my youth (long story). Back then, he had neatly combed back silver hair, expensive-looking glasses, and a nice suit on top of that and had also lived in a nice mansion in upstate New York.

  But the man lying on the cot by himself hardly looked like the Grandfather I remembered. His hair was messier and stood up everywhere, while his fancy glasses had been replaced with a much cheaper brand with lenses that were slightly cracked. Like every other prisoner in this place, he wore an orange jumpsuit, but he was so thin and weak that the suit seemed to hang off his body, even though the suit seemed to be his size. He looked almost nothing like the Grandfather I remembered. He didn’t even wake up when we entered; he was so still he might as well have been dead.

  “Hey, Matthew,” said the guard who had brought me here. “Wake up. Your grandson is here.”

  Grandfather’s eyes blinked open. He raised his head and looked up at us, but there was a vacant look in his eyes, like he did not remember who he was or what he was doing here. Then his eyes fell on me and a look of recognition passed over his old features. “Kevin? Is that you?”

  I nodded and stepped forward. “Yes. Sorry for not visiting you before. I’ve just been … busy.”

  Grandfather didn’t nod or do much else to show he’d heard what I said. He just pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed the back of his neck. Even though he had obviously just been resting, he still looked tired, probably because he was such an old man.

  “All right,” said the guard, causing me to look over at him. “You’ve got ten minutes to talk with him. Then we’re escorting you back to your cell and you won’t get to see him for the rest of the day.”

  “Ten minutes?” I said. “That’s not—”

  “Prison rules,” said the guard. He smirked. “Of course, you could ask Warden Glass for an extension, but he’s not exactly the most flexible guy in the world, so I would suggest that you stop complaining. You’ve already wasted five seconds.”

  I gritted my teeth, but the guard was right. So, while the two guards stepped back toward the door, I turned to face Grandfather, who was now staring at me like he was unsure what he just heard.

  “Did that guard just say that he was going to escort you back to your cell?” said Grandfather. “Does that mean you are in prison, too?”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding. I gestured at my orange jumpsuit. “That’s why I’m wearing this. But not because I committed a crime or anything. I’m still a hero, no matter what the government says.”

  Grandfather frowned. “Then why are you here? If you are truly innocent, then shouldn’t you be free?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “I know I am innocent. I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

  Grandfather slumped against the wall of his cell, his head bowed. “How could I help? I’m not the one who arrested you. You should ask someone from the government.”

  “I know, but you don’t understand,” I said. “No one in the government or in this prison has been able to tell me why I’m here. I just woke up earlier today in my cell with no answers and loads of questions.”

  Grandfather just shrugged. “I’m sorry, Kevin, but I haven’t been in much contact with the outside world since being locked up in here. I’ve been interrogated by the G-Men, of course, but they haven’t told me anything about you. I ask, but they never say anything.”

  “Well, I thought you might at least help me understand how the government thinks, since you were involved in Project Neo,” I said. “You see, before I was thrown in here, I was working with the G-Men to destroy Vision. You know who they are, right?”

  Grandfather nodded, though still without looking at me. “Yes, I am aware of them. What of it?”

  “Well, we destroyed Vision,” I said. “but I was then knocked out by the G-Men and thrown into here. Do you know anything about the government that might help explain why they decided to turn on me all of a sudden?”

  Grandfather didn’t look up at me, but I noticed that he began tugging at the sleeve of his prison uniform. I probably would have written it off as nothing more than his idle hands looking for something to do, but given how his eyes were clearly locked on his sleeve, I figured it was his way of not answering my question.

  “Grandfather?” I said. “Do you have something that you need to tell me?”

  Grandfather did not respond, at least at first. He just resumed tugging at his sleeve, but then a drop of sweat ran down his forehead. That told me that he knew something, but what, I didn’t know. Wish I could read minds like Cadmus right now.

  “Grandfather,” I said, “you know why they put me in prison, don’t you?”

  Grandfather shrugged. “I … have my theories, but I don’t know for sure. I haven’t been very deeply involved with the government for many years. And even when the G-Men interrogated me, they’ve always been careful about what information they share with me about their current operations.”

  “But you clearly do know something,” I said. I glanced over my shoulders at the guards, but they didn’t seem like they were going to interrupt. “You can tell me. I don’t care if your theory is wrong; I just want to hear it.”

  Grandfather hesitated. He looked up and said, “Come closer. I don’t want the guards to hear this.”

  I stepped closer, but then heard the guards shuffle their feet behind me. I looked over my shoulder again and saw the guards were now looking at me and Grandfather with warning in their eyes. They probably thought we were planning a break out, so I stopped walking toward Grandf
ather.

  “Looks like you’ll just have to talk,” I whispered to Grandfather.

  Grandfather sighed, but said, “Fine. I imagine the government already knows, so it won’t be that much of a problem if these two hear what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Then tell me,” I said. “I’m listening.”

  “All right,” said Grandfather. “Kevin, do you remember what Jane—your grandmother—said before she died?”

  I frowned when I remembered Grandmother. “She said a lot of things. What do you mean?”

  “When she told you her reasons for starting Project Neo and kidnapping you,” said Grandfather. “You remember how she had a vision of the future, yes?”

  I nodded. Grandmother, like me, had been a superhuman, though with the ability to see into the future instead of super strength or super speed. “I remember. She said something about ‘angels’ coming down from the sky to lay waste to cities, right?”

  “Yes,” said Grandfather. “She wanted to take your youth and the soul of that young woman in order to make herself young and strong enough again so she could lead ten warriors against the angels and save the world.”

  I remembered that as well. “I thought she was just crazy.”

  “Her sanity did fracture toward the end there, but her visions were always correct even when we couldn’t understand them,” said Grandfather. “It’s why I so faithfully supported her throughout the years. Whatever her flaws, I truly believed that she wanted to save the world, to be a true hero.”

  “And she would have done that by sacrificing her one and only grandson,” I said. “Without his permission, by the way.”

  Grandfather spread his hands. “I never said I agreed with everything she did. It’s just that I agreed with her that we needed to stop the angels or at least be prepared for them when they came.”

  “Right,” I said. “So what does this have to do with me?”

  Grandfather folded his hands over his lap. “Because Grandmother was not the only person concerned about these angels. The government is, as well; more specifically, Cadmus Smith is.”