by Lucas Flint
Doyle’s eyes suddenly bugged out. “Watch out!”
I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly in front of my face. And before I could react, the gun barrel exploded and something hard struck my face point blank and sent me stumbling backward over Doyle. I fell backward onto the floor, gasping and coughing as a strange yellow gas entered my lungs.
The pain in my face was unreal, but I soon realized that I hadn’t been shot in the face with a bullet. No, I had been hit with some kind of pellet, which contained an odd yellow gas that looked an awful lot like—
“Powerless gas,” I gasped. “Uh oh.”
“Bingo, kid,” came a harsh voice from within the shadows. “And now you’re just a mortal, like the rest of us humans.”
From out of the shadows strode a man wearing full tactical body armor and gear. He looked less like a common crook and more like a mercenary or soldier. He carried twin pistols in his hands, one of which seemed to have been modified to shoot powerless pellets rather than actual bullets. He wore a featureless mask over his face, its surface clear enough that I could see my own reflection even in these low light conditions.
“Who are you?” I said, sitting up and coughing every now and then. “I’ve never seen you before. Do you work for Earth King?”
The man tilted his head to the side. “Who am I, kid? Easy answer. I’m your worst nightmare. And I’m about to get a whole lot worse.”
Without warning, the man raised his other gun and fired at me twice. I tried to roll out of the way, but the powerless gas had made me weaker and slower. I dodged one bullet, but the second bullet grazed my shoulder. My suit was bulletproof but getting grazed like that hurt even with my costume on. I grabbed my shoulder and gasped in pain, but then the man appeared in front of me and lashed out with his foot. His boot struck me in the abdomen hard enough to make me double over onto the floor, clutching my abdomen with both hands and gasping in pain.
“Pathetic boy,” said the man in a mocking tone. “This is the great Bolt, the son of Genius, I have heard so much about? To me, you seem like just another dumb teenage boy, especially without your powers.”
Panting hard, I tried to sit up, but then the man put the barrel of his normal gun against my the side of my head and I froze.
“Before I take your life, Bolt, I would like to ask you a question,” said the man. “Are you brave because you’re invincible or have you always been this stupid?”
“None … of … your … business,” I growled.
The man snorted. “Awful last words, kid. Not that I would expect much from a super freak like you. Say hi to your old man to me in the afterlife … assuming you go to the same hell that he’s in, of course.”
Right before the man pulled the trigger, he suddenly lost his balance and staggered backward. He dropped his gun, which disappeared somewhere into the darkness around us, and looked down at his feet. I did as well and saw Doyle—barely clinging to consciousness—grasping the man’s boots with both of his hands, the wound in his chest bleeding out fiercely.
“Bolt, go!” Doyle shouted. “I’ll distract him while you—”
With a snarl, the man ripped his right boot out of Doyle’s grasp and swung the back of his boot into Doyle’s face. The crunch made when the man’s boot connected with Doyle’s nose was sickening, but I didn’t hesitate to turn and head deeper into the bakery. I could hear the man calling out my name, but I didn’t stop until I got to the back of the counter and fell to the floor, panting hard as I tried to catch my breath. I couldn’t believe how out of shape I was without my powers. Then again, I had just gotten shot in the face and kicked in the abdomen with a steel-toed boot, so that was another reason I was tired.
“Come out, kid,” the man’s voice suddenly boomed through the bakery. “I thought you were a superhero! Why are you playing hide and seek like a little brat? Maybe because that’s all you really are.”
I was amazed at how personal this man’s insults were getting. I had never seen him before in my life, so I didn’t understand why he treated me like I’d murdered his wife. Maybe he was just a crazy guy who didn’t like kids.
In any case, I was not dumb enough to reveal my position to him. I got into a crouch and peered through the glass of the counter. It was still too dark to see, but I did see a vague outline wandering through the tables and chairs on the other side, knocking tables over and kicking chairs aside as he searched for me. Even without being able to see his face, I could tell he was mad and that he was willing to tear apart the entire bakery to get me if he had to.
“Val,” I muttered, sitting back down and slouching slightly to make sure my attacker couldn’t see me. “Where are Brains and the others?”
“Still surrounding the bakery, I believe,” said Valerie’s cool voice in my ear. “GPS data suggests that the police are on their way and will have the entire bakery surrounded in a few minutes.”
“Then all I need to do is avoid getting shot by that guy until the cops show up,” I said with a sigh. “That’s easy.”
“Almost as easy as shooting an unarmed brat,” said a voice above me.
I looked up just in time to see the armed man leaning over the counter. He pointed his gun at me and fired, but I rolled forward and just barely avoided getting a bullet put in my head.
Rolling to a stop in front of a set of metal shelves, I looked back and saw the man aiming his gun at me again. I grabbed a loaf of bread off of the shelves and hurled it at him, nailing him directly in the face and making him lower his gun.
I rose to my feet and rushed toward the back of the bakery, but before I could get very far, the man suddenly appeared in front of me again, causing me to skid to a stop in front of him.
“What the hell?” I said, taking a step back. “Can you teleport like Vanish?”
The man didn’t respond. He just punched me in the jaw, sending me falling to the floor. I knocked my head against the tile, causing my head to spin as my senses were scrambled.
Then the man pointed his gun at my face again and said, “Don’t you ever compare me to super scum like you, you dirty, disgusting little—”
“Halt!” an authoritative voice boomed throughout the bakery. “This is the police! Drop your weapons and come out quietly with your hands up. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to escape through any of the windows or exits, because we have the whole building surrounded.”
“Cops?” the man muttered. He swore under his breath. “Dang it. Took too much time. Shouldn’t have wasted so much time talking.”
The man suddenly holstered his gun and turned and ran. He disappeared through a door in the back, which swung in and out rapidly as he passed through it.
Gasping for breath, I nonetheless shouted, “Hey, get back here!” and rose to my feet and ran after him. I shoved open the doors he disappeared through and suddenly found myself in what appeared to be the bakery’s main office, because in the gloom I could see what appeared to be a solid wooden desk in front of me, as well as shelves along the walls lined with books and business documents. It was too dark for me to see, but I thought I could smell blood, so I groped the wall next to me until I found a light switch, which I did.
As soon as the light turned on, I found that I was correct: This was the bakery’s office. It was rather small and cramped in comparison to the rest of the bakery, but it was also obviously well-kept and clean. The desk in front of me looked like cheap plywood rather than actual wood, but it was still relatively clean and orderly as if whoever ran this bakery made sure that even his workspace was neat and tidy. There was a family photo to one side, depicting a happy, smiling family of four standing on the front lawn of a beautiful suburban house with a big golden retriever sprawled out onto the ground in front of them. A bookshelf stood off to the right, full of binders of what looked like the bakery’s financial information.
But my eyes were drawn to the man sitting on the opposite side of the desk. He was a big, portly man with a
belly so huge that it seemed to be falling out of his pants. He wore a pristine brown-and-black suit that seemed to barely fit his massive frame, while his bald head reflected the lights overhead. Oddly enough, he wore thick sunglasses over his eyes, which combined with his huge nose and jet black mustache would have made him look really goofy if I hadn’t known who he was:
Gregorio Russo, the Earth King himself.
Yet even as I recognized him, I realized something was not quite right about him. Earth King sat unnaturally still, like a puppet, and he did not seem to be breathing.
More worryingly, however, were the two scents I smelled coming off his body. One was the stinky, awful stench of powerless gas, while the other … the other was blood.
“Earth King?” I said slowly. “Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?”
That was when I noticed a folded up piece of paper on the desk. It was facing me and somehow I sensed that it had been left for me, so I snatched the paper off the desk, unfolded it, and read its contents. Written in red ink—no, blood, probably even Earth King’s own blood—was a short, yet chilling, message that sent an ominous feeling down my spine:
BOLT—
YOU SEE WHAT I DID TO EARTH KING? YOU’RE NEXT!
CHAPTER THREE
Earth King was pronounced dead at the scene of the crime. I should know because I was still there when the ambulance showed up and the paramedic declared Earth King dead. I would have known he was dead even if the paramedic hadn’t said so, however, because of how still and bloody he smelled.
The police questioned me thoroughly about what happened in the bakery. I told them as much as I could remember about my fight with the armed man, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to answer all of their questions. I did tell them that Doyle might know more than me, but the ambulance had to rush Doyle to St. Francisco’s Medical Hospital on the other side of the city, so the police would not be able to question Doyle until he was conscious again. I did give the police the letter I found, which they took as evidence from the crime scene.
Thankfully, the police did let me go after I answered all of their questions, which was good because it was late at night and I was starting to get tired. The powerless gas’ effects were starting to fade away already, which I was also thankful for, but not surprised by. The effects of powerless gas lasted only in relation to the amount of powerless gas one inhaled. I just got a face full of that stuff, hence why it wore off so quickly, but as my fight with the armed man showed, you don’t need a whole lot of time to kick a superhuman’s butt once you take away their powers.
As I leaned against the apartment building on the other side of the street, still tenderly rubbing my shoulder, I heard someone shout, “Hey, you!” and looked to the right to see two familiar superheroes walking up to me.
It was Brains and Vanish. Brains walked in front of Vanish, his spindly, almost insect-like body towering over her comparatively normal-sized frame. Though Brains was a lot thinner and weaker than me, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive as he came closer and closer to me. It was his expression. At once he looked infuriated and worried and mad all at the same time. I’d never seen him like this before, but I could guess why he felt this way. Vanish wore her skintight blue bodysuit and domino mask, her brown hair trailing behind her as she attempted to keep up with Brains.
“Hey, Brains, Vanish,” I said, waving at them weakly as they approached. “Beautiful night tonight, isn’t it?”
“Who cares about that?” said Brains in annoyance. He gestured sharply at the bakery, which was still surrounded by police cars with flashing lights. “Look at what you did. You nearly got yourself killed, even though I told you to stay put.”
“I know,” I said. I tried to hide my annoyance because I didn’t want to make Brains even more annoyed than he already was. “But if I hadn’t stepped in, Doyle would have been killed and—”
“And what?” Brains interrupted me. “Yes, it’s a good thing you saved Doyle, but you still disobeyed me. You directly and knowingly flaunted my orders, as though my orders were merely suggestions. That is not the kind of behavior I will tolerate.”
“I agree with Brains,” said Vanish. She brushed back her long brown hair. “What you did just now was very irresponsible. Mecha Knight warned us that you could be a bit impulsive at times, but this was ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? More like rebellious,” said Brains, shaking his head. He put his hands on his hips. “I just can’t believe it. And they allowed you to graduate from the Young Neos with this kind of attitude?”
I scowled. “Look, maybe you’re right that I acted too hastily—”
“For the record,” came Valerie’s voice in our earcoms, “I tried to tell him to stay put, but he would not listen to me.”
I wanted to glare at Valerie, but since she was a disembodied voice, I just continued, saying, “Maybe I shouldn’t have run into danger like that, I’ll admit it. But you didn’t see what I saw. If I hadn’t entered the bakery, Doyle would have died.”
“He still might,” said Brains sharply. He tapped the side of his helmet. “I read his mind when they were putting him into the ambulance. I could barely hear a thing.”
I gulped. I had forgotten that Brains was a telepath. “You mean he’s—”
“I don’t know what his condition is,” Brains interrupted me again. “Or if the doctors will be able to heal him. That all depends on the actions of the doctors who work at St. Francisco’s. All I know is that you directly disobeyed me, which I cannot tolerate.”
“Is it because the mission was a failure?” I said. I glanced at the bakery and saw that police had turned on the lights, perhaps to make it easier to move around inside. “It sort of was, but also wasn’t. Earth King is dead, which means that his criminal empire is probably going to fall apart on its own. Right?”
Brains rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “Earth King may be dead, yes, but that’s not as good as it sounds. We were hoping to capture Earth King alive so we could bring him into court and make him confess to the various crimes his gang committed. As it now stands, his minions are probably going to split up and lay low for a while before resuming their criminal careers somewhere else again.”
“What Brains here means, darling, is that Earth King’s death actually makes our job harder, not easier,” said Vanish, shaking her head. “We didn’t just want to arrest Earth King. We also wanted to bust his subordinates and associates, which would have crippled his criminal empire for good. As it is, we probably won’t catch them, at least not anytime soon.”
My face flushed with embarrassment. I had completely forgotten that that was what this entire operation had been about. I felt so stupid. “Well, I didn’t kill Earth King. He was already dead when I found him. Someone else killed him and wrote a death threat to me in his blood.”
“Actually, I was about to ask you about that,” said Brains. His tone shifted from angry to curious in less than a second. “One of the officers showed us the letter, plus Earth King’s body. They don’t have a final cause of death just yet, but they think he was shot in the head and probably died instantly.”
“How?” I said in surprise. “He could turn his body into dirt, couldn’t he? Why didn’t he just turn his head into dirt to let the bullet fly harmlessly through?”
“Powerless gas,” Brains replied. “His office stank of the stuff. We think that whoever killed him probably sprayed him with a load of powerless gas first and then shot him.”
“Not an uncommon occurrence, unfortunately,” Vanish sighed. “Ever since the second Pokacu invasion, it seems like there’s a new story every week about superhumans getting assassinated after being sprayed with that stuff. It’s a scary world out there and it’s getting scarier. Makes me wonder what kind of world our little Joey is going to grow up in.”
I frowned. Joey was Brains and Vanish’s one-year-old baby. He usually stayed at home with his babysitter, who was Vanish’s own mom, though Vanish had a tendency to bring him to the Brain
dome, our base in the city, whenever she could. “You means you guys think an assassin took out Earth King?”
“Sure looks like it,” said Brains. He looked at me curiously. “Did you happen to see anyone in there who might have been the assassin?”
I shook my head. “No. There was this guy I fought—some kind of armed man—who hit me with a powerless bullet and called me ‘superhuman scum,’ but—”
“Wait, he called you superhuman scum?” Brains repeated.
“And sprayed you with powerless gas?” Vanish questioned.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, nodding. “Well, more like shot me with a powerless bullet, but—”
“That must have been the assassin,” said Brains. He looked at Vanish. “What do you think, honey? The assassin, or one of Earth King’s bodyguards gone rogue?”
“Why not both?” said Vanish, looking up at her husband. “Perhaps he is an assassin who was hired by someone—probably some criminal rival of Earth King’s—to take him out, so he infiltrated Earth King’s gang and became one of his bodyguards to gain access to him.”
Brains nodded. “That makes sense. It explains how the assassin could have gotten into his office and shot him because Earth King brought one of his bodyguards with him when he arrived. Earth King was a paranoid man, but I bet even he didn’t consider it possible that one of his bodyguards was an assassin aiming to take his life.”
“Precisely,” said Vanish. “Oh, honey, you are so smart!”
Brains smiled in a rather sickening sweet way. “Oh, dear, I wouldn’t be even half the man I am without you.”
I groaned. I understood that Brains and Vanish were happily married and all that, but I still found their sweet talk grating. I was just glad that my own girlfriend, Blizzard, didn’t expect me to talk like that to her.
But then a thought occurred to me and I said, “But if Earth King was the assassin’s target, why didn’t he run as soon as he killed him? Why wait until I came inside? Why fight me at all? And why leave a death threat directed specifically at me?”
