The Superhero's Return

by Lucas Flint

  I nodded. That sounded like all of the pictures of Jake Johnson I’d seen of him, at least in his Crimson Fist costume. Actually, it sounded like he was wearing his Crimson Fist costume, which I found odd because Jake had been buried in it after his death. The idea that Jake had risen from the dead in his costume and was robbing forgotten underground vaults for weapons sounded like something straight out of a horror flick.

  “What, exactly, did he take when he got here?” I said. “What did he do, I mean?”

  “Not much,” said Freya. “He entered and walked around the Vault for a little under an hour. He didn’t say much and I didn’t speak to him because I had no reason to. He looked in all of the boxes, however, and filled a large bag he carried with a lot of Genius’ creations, such as his teleportation disks, for example.”

  I tried not to look excited, though truthfully I was more confused than anything. “Do you know why he took so much technology?”

  “I don’t,” said Freya. “As I said, he did not speak to me and I did not speak to him. He seemed to be in a hurry, however. He didn’t even test any of it to make sure it still worked. It does, of course, because I have protected Genius’ creations well, but it seemed odd to me because humans typically like to test out old equipment they find to make sure it still works.”

  “Agreed on how odd it is,” I said. “What did he do after that?”

  “He downloaded the layout of the Vaultwork onto some kind of device he carried,” said Freya. “A USB drive, if I am not mistaken. I assumed he must have downloaded the layout so he could use it to find the other Vaults later on, though I have not noticed any activity in the other Vaults since then.”

  “Is that all he did?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Freya. “After downloading the Vaultwork’s layout, he left Vault B. I do not know where he went, so don’t ask.”

  I looked down at the floor, thinking about what Freya just told me. I didn’t want to consider it, but it was starting to seem like the assassin who was trying to kill me was none other than my late uncle, Jake Johnson. Not only that, but Jake had also somehow learned about the location of Vault B—which Valerie said was a secret only she and Genius knew—and even knew the password that allowed him to access it without tripping the security systems.

  Of course, it was possible that Jake wasn’t the assassin. Maybe the assassin had actually stolen Dad’s tech from him or the two of them were working together somehow. I didn’t want to accept the idea that my own uncle—who was supposed to be dead, by the way—was trying to murder me. It didn’t make any sense, yet all of the facts currently pointed to that particular conclusion, regardless of how I felt about it.

  “Well, Freya, thanks for your help,” I said, looking up at her half of the screen again. “The information you gave me will be very helpful. I hope you know that.”

  “I don’t care how helpful it is,” said Freya. “I want my freedom. When will I get it?”

  “Soon,” I said. “Like I said, it will probably take a while for Val to figure out how to connect the Vaultwork to the Internet, but we’ll try to get it down as soon as—”

  I was interrupted by my earcom beeping, Without thinking, I tapped my earcom and said, “This is Bolt. Who is it?”

  “Brains,” came Brains’ hurried voice. “Bolt, where are you?”

  I instantly felt my heart sink into my stomach. “Uh—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Brains said. “Vanish and I need you to get back to Showdown now. More specifically, the Braindome. There’s something you’ve got to see.”

  “What is it?” I said. “Can you tell me what it is?”

  “Not over our earcoms,” said Brains, “no. But trust me, you will want to see it. And you will want to see it right away because it won’t last forever.”

  I found Brains’ worried voice extremely concerning because Brains rarely sounded this concerned about anything. He was usually calm and collected, which meant that he must have found something very bad indeed.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll be there right away. See you soon.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Less than half an hour later, I stepped in front of the door to the Braindome’s basement, panting slightly. Using the Teleportation Buckle, I had returned to my room in the Braindome, but it took me a while to locate exactly where Brains and Vanish were. I thought they might be in the Braindome’s control room—based on what Brains told me, it sounded like there was something on one of the monitors he wanted to show me.

  Instead, however, one of the Braindome workers told me that Brains and Vanish were actually in the Braindome’s basement. I rarely went down there, mostly because I spent most of my time either in my room or out on the streets taking down criminals. I did know that the basement was where the Braindome’s food supplies were stored, as well as the location of a highly advanced DNA lab that was sometimes used by the Showdown City Police Department in particularly difficult cases, but I had only ever gone down there one time, when Brains took me on a tour of the Braindome facility when I first got here a month ago.

  As a result, it took me a couple of minutes to remember where the entrance was and another minute or so to find it. It didn’t help that the basement door was not labeled and looked pretty ordinary, which meant that someone who didn’t know their way around the facility could easily walk past it without even realizing it.

  Luckily, the door was unlocked, so I opened it and entered quickly, closing the door behind me on my way in. I walked down a staircase to a hallway at the bottom, where I found two signs on the wall in front of me:

  <—STORAGE & SUPPLIES

  CRIME LAB—>

  Because the lab was where I was supposed to go, I turned to the right and walked down a few feet until I reached another door at the end of the hall, helpfully labeled ‘CRIME LAB’ in big bold letters. Like the door above, this one was unlocked, so I entered without knocking and took a quick look around at my surroundings as I came inside.

  The crime lab was a fairly spacious room, with plenty of space for scientists to work. Desks covered with computers and papers stood here and there, while weird-looking scientific equipment that I could only assume helped scientists analyzing a crime scene stood on empty desks by themselves. The room was a lot colder than the rest of the Braindome for some reason, making me shiver slightly, and it had a very sterile smell, no doubt due to all of the antiseptic used to clean it.

  But my eyes were drawn to the middle of the room, where I saw three people standing around what appeared to be a body covered with a shroud. I recognized two of them easily: Brains and Vanish. Brains had one of his spindly arms around Vanish’s shoulder, whispering something into her ear that I couldn’t hear. Vanish was staring at the shrouded body with big eyes and she seemed to have been crying. I suddenly remembered that Vanish didn’t handle dead bodies very well, which made me realize that the shrouded body was probably not alive.

  The third figure, however, I did not recognize at all. He was a short, mousy little man wearing a black suit, with thick horn-rimmed glasses fixed firmly on his face. He had a small gray mustache and was almost completely bald, save for around the edges of his hair. If I had to guess his age, I would put him somewhere in his late forties or early fifties. He was incredibly short, especially in comparison to Brains, but then again, everyone was short in comparison to Brains.

  Unlike Vanish, the man in the suit looked completely unperturbed by the obvious body under the shroud. He barely even seemed to acknowledge it, beady eyes looking in my direction as soon as I entered the room. And, unless I was mistaken, a look of curiosity seemed to appear in his eyes, as if I was some kind of scientific specimen he was dissecting in his lab.

  “Hey, Brains,” I said, closing the door behind me and walking up to three of them. “Sorry, I’m late. I didn’t remember where the crime lab was and I got turned around a couple of times. Still not used to the Braindome’s layout.”

  “That’s fine, Bolt,” said Brains.
He squeezed Vanish’s shoulder and glanced at the shrouded body. “It’s probably for the best that you didn’t get here right away. This isn’t something I like to see myself.”

  I was about to ask Brains what he meant when the short man suddenly leaned toward me and said, “Are you Bolt? The famous young superhero I’ve heard so much about?”

  I looked at the man. I didn’t sense any hostility in his eyes or his question, but I still didn’t trust him for some reason, so I said, “Yeah, I am. I take it you’ve heard of me?”

  The man chuckled. “Of course I have. You’ve had quite a few experiences with my department, although I understand that not all of them have been positive.”

  “Your department?” I repeated, confused. “Are you from the government or something? Because I haven’t had that much experience with the government unless you’re from the DMV or something.”

  “I’m from the Department of Extraterrestrial and Superpowered Beings,” said the man. “Or, as most people call us, the G-Men. My name is Orson Pars, though you can also call me by my codename Phobia if you prefer.”

  My eyes widened and I took a step back from Phobia involuntarily. I know exactly who the G-Men were. They were the federal government’s official superhero team, tasked with protecting the United States from superpowered and unusual threats both domestic and foreign. They served at the behest of the President of the United States but got most of their day-to-day orders from Director Cadmus Smith, who was the director of the department.

  At least, they were supposed to protect the US from threats. In practice, the G-Men were a threat in themselves, engaging in all sorts of morally dubious and in some cases outright evil activities for the alleged good of the US. To say that I have had a ‘few’ negative experiences with them was the understatement of the year and made me wonder if Phobia was trolling me.

  Phobia held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Bolt. I’ve heard so much about you from my fellow G-Men agents, but this is the first time I’ve met you myself. Director Smith, in particular, has told me quite a bit about his previous encounters with you.”

  I cracked a sarcastic smile. “Did Cadmus tell you about all of the crap he put my family through? Or did he forget to mention that?”

  Phobia frowned. “He warned me you might be this way, but rest assured, Bolt, that not all G-Men agents hate or distrust you. I always admired your father when he was alive and I’ve been impressed by your own deeds of heroism that you’ve accomplished at such a young age. I hope we will be able to put your previous experiences with the Department behind us so we can work together while I am in Showdown.”

  My eyes narrowed. Phobia seemed genuine, but as a general rule, I didn’t trust G-Men agents. They were typically dishonest scumbags who used every trick in the book to get you to do what they want, especially if it went against your own interests. Perhaps Phobia was politer than most, but I wasn’t going to trust him until he could prove his trust to me. I wasn’t worried about that, however, because expecting a G-Man to be trustworthy was like expecting a rattlesnake not to bite you if you touch it.

  But now was not the time to fight with Phobia, so I said, “Thanks, and nice to meet you, too, Phobia. What are you doing here in Showdown? Did Cadmus send you?”

  Phobia gestured with one hand at the shrouded body on the table. “No. Director Smith is busy with other things at the moment. I am here on an investigation I am running, one which has led me to Showdown.”

  “An investigation?” I repeated. “What kind of investigation?”

  “My job in the G-Men is to be their official investigator of superhuman crimes,” Phobia explained. “If a crime involving superhumans stumps the FBI or some other federal law enforcement agency, they bring me in to help them solve it. Prior to joining the G-Men, I was a private detective living in New Orleans, and a very good one, if I may toot my own horn for a second.”

  “I see,” I said, thinking of another superhuman detective I knew named Triplet, though he lived in New York rather than New Orleans. “And what case are you currently investigating, if that’s not classified?”

  “No, it’s not,” said Phobia, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose technically it is, but I have the authority to grant anyone access to my case. Just promise me not to post it on the Internet or talk about it in public, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. I hated keeping secrets for the G-Men, but I found Phobia’s request hard to reject, given how nicely he asked it. “I take it that the case involves this body here, right?”

  “Right,” said Phobia, nodding. “Brains, could you lift the shroud so Bolt here can see the victim’s face, please? That will make it easier to explain what is going on.”

  Victim? That didn’t sound good.

  Brains nodded. He whispered something else into Vanish’s ear and then took his arm off of her shoulder and grabbed the head of the shroud. Vanish instantly looked away, no doubt due to her fear of corpses, but I didn’t have that kind of fear, so I leaned in closer to get a better look at the corpse.

  It was a young white man who seemed to barely be out of his teens. His eyes were closed and his skin was as pale as snow. He had full heard of red hair which was speckled with a fine yellow powder, though I wasn’t sure what the yellow powder was. Hair dye, maybe?

  I looked up at Brains. “Who is this?”

  “Sean Meyer,” said Phobia. I had not noticed him move over to the other side of the table, near the corpse’s head. “Age twenty-two, born October sixth, nineteen ninety-five. He was an auto mechanic for a local garage and had a girlfriend who he planned to propose to. He loved playing softball with his friends and was quite the drinker.”

  I looked at Phobia in surprise. “How did you know so much about him?”

  “Because I had to dig into his background as part of my investigation,” said Phobia. He looked down at Sean’s face with a sad face. “It’s always tragic to see young men with so much potential ahead of them snuffed out early like this. He didn’t even die defending his country. He was murdered in his own home while he slept last night. I doubt he even got to see his killer’s face. Not that he could have, of course, given how dark it was.”

  “Who killed him?” I said, standing upright again. “And, more importantly, why would anyone want to kill an auto mechanic?”

  “Sean was no ordinary auto mechanic,” said Phobia. He tugged at the straps of his wristwatch. “He was a superhuman. As a superhuman, he could control and manipulate metals of all sorts. From what I understand, that power of his came in very handy during his work, because he could bend and shape the metal parts of cars to fix them more efficiently.”

  “Weird,” I said. “Why didn’t he become a superhero? Controlling metal seems like it could be a useful power in a fight. Could use it to destroy a bank robber’s gun, for example.”

  “Not every superhuman wants to be a hero, Bolt,” said Phobia. “Some, like Sean here, were content to live quiet lives and only use their power for practical purposes. A lot of superhuman powers could be used for profit if you thought about it.”

  “Tell Bolt who killed him,” said Brains tersely. “He needs to know.”

  “Right,” said Phobia. He took off his glasses and began wiping the lenses with the sleeve of his shirt. “Sean Meyer was murdered by the Neo-Killer. And he’s coming after you next.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “The Neo-Killer?” I repeated. “Who is that?”

  “A serial killer who exclusively targets superhumans,” said Phobia. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and immediately started tapping the screen with his thumb. “He’s been active for about three months now, though we suspect he’s been around much longer than that.”

  “So he’s a supervillain of some sort,” I said. “Right?”

  “No,” said Phobia, shaking his head. He stopped scrolling through his phone and held it out to me. “At least, he’s not like any supervillain we’ve seen, because he targets all superhumans, not just heroes. He�
�s killed fifteen superhumans—heroes, villains, and civilians—in three months and he’s still on the loose. Look at this headline.”

  I leaned forward to see what Phobia was trying to show me. It was an article on Neo Ranks, a website devoted to superhuman news and events. The headline of the article—dated about a month ago—read thus:

  MURDER OF INJ MEMBER JESSICA ‘CRYSTAL DUST’ PETERSON STUMPS LOS ANGELES POLICE

  “That was in Los Angeles last month,” said Phobia, pulling his phone away from me and putting it in his pocket. “A member of the Independent Neoheroes for Justice, Crystal Dust, was found murdered in her apartment. Her children found her after they got home from school. It was a very sad event all around.”

  I nodded. “I remember hearing about that murder, because a friend of mine from the INJ told me about it, though he said he didn’t know all the details. I didn’t know a serial killer was behind Crystal’s death, though, or that a superhuman serial killer even existed.”

  “Few do,” said Phobia. “The Neo-Killer doesn’t care much for theatrics or pulling off publicity stunts to get everyone’s attention the way that most supervillains do. He operates in a very low key fashion, committing crimes which leave local police departments stumped and which even the G-Men have a hard time understanding. Plus, the Neo-Killer’s existence is supposed to be a G-Man secret, because we don’t want the superhuman community panicking if they learn that a serial killer is specifically targeting people like us.”

  “Wait,” I said. “So you’re saying that a serial killer who specializes in murdering superhumans is yet another secret you G-Men are keeping from the general public? Can’t say I’m surprised, honestly, but—”

  “It’s Director Smith’s orders,” said Phobia. “I don’t agree with it, but he wants the G-Men to deal with it, rather than the NHA or the INJ. Says the G-Men can handle this on our own, which I am not entirely sure of myself, but that’s his reasoning behind it.”