The Kid Sensation Series Box Set

by Kevin Hardman

  “Plus, magic typically doesn’t operate like this,” Mouse added, finally looking up from his tablet. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s magic strong enough to cause the kind of damage we’ve experienced, but you rarely ever see this level of destruction. The amount of power required is just too difficult to manipulate.”

  “I don’t follow,” I said.

  “Think of it like this,” BT said. “Imagine that magic is like a handgun. With proper training, almost anyone can safely handle it, agreed?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  BT went on. “Now, if someone wants a weapon that’s more powerful than a handgun – say, a mortar or grenade launcher – they’ll need additional training.”

  “Gotcha,” I said. “Using our analogy, a magician who wants more power probably needs to study and become even more conversant with magic.”

  “Correct,” BT said, “but beyond a certain point, there will be magic that a magician can access but that he won’t be able to control. Using it will be like setting off an atomic bomb – an uncontrolled nuclear chain reaction.”

  “So, a magician might be able to drop a magical version of an atomic bomb,” I said, “but once it goes off, he can’t stop it. He can’t control how much damage it causes.”

  “In a nutshell,” Mouse said. “But what we’ve seen – especially last night – is a high level of devastation that was held strictly in check geographically. You usually only see that in someone with enhanced abilities, which means they studied magic for a long time. That’s why the most powerful wizards and such tend to be advanced in age.”

  “So what does that mean?” I asked. “We’re looking for an octogenarian with a wand?”

  “Not necessarily,” BT said. “Just like prodigies in music and such, there are wunderkinds when it comes to mystical abilities. People who show mastery of the metaphysical at an early age.”

  “Even counting those, though, there can’t be a lot of people capable of controlling the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb,” I said.

  “There aren’t,” Mouse agreed. “There’s maybe a handful on the entire planet. There’s Rune, of course, but he’s one of us. Gloriana Mano is another.”

  “Hand of Glory?” BT said quizzically. “She’s still locked away somewhere in a medically induced coma. If it were her we’d know, because she’d be trying to destroy the world and wouldn’t be shy about it.”

  “There are also a couple of guys on other superhero teams,” Mouse said, “but I’m assuming they’re beyond suspicion. After that, the drop-off is pretty steep in terms of ability, and we go to a mid-level tier. There are a bunch of villainous wannabes at that rank – like Mystic Kabbalah and Diabolist Mage, to name a few – but then we’re back to this being more power than those dorks can control.”

  “Maybe not,” BT interjected. “Increased magical power usually comes in one of two varieties: lifelong study, or objects of power.”

  “So what, you’re thinking that maybe somebody found a charm or something that gives enhanced magical abilities?” I asked.

  “It makes sense,” Mouse said. “It wouldn’t be the first time it happened. And these guys are always hunting for a mystical this or a magical that – some trinket or relic that’ll make them the second coming of Merlin.”

  “So what if one of them did find something like that?” I asked. “Maybe not the magical equivalent of an atomic bomb, but something a little less powerful – say, an object on par with a mystical rail gun.”

  Mouse rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking. “I guess I’d argue that they still have to learn how to use it.”

  “Maybe that’s what’s been going on,” I said.

  Mouse frowned, thinking, then shot a look at BT that was so intense that you’d have thought there was some sort of mental communication between them.

  “It makes sense,” BT said a few seconds later. “Someone found a new toy and is figuring out how it works.”

  “That would explain a lot,” Mouse said. “Maybe it wasn’t just using the maces on Alpha Prime that was a test. Maybe it’s been everything they’ve done up to now.”

  “It would also clarify why they haven’t been making any demands,” BT added. “They’re still figuring out how all the pieces fit together.”

  “Okay,” I said, “so they’re not quite licensed to drive yet. What’s our next step – before these guys get comfortable behind the wheel?”

  “We don’t have one,” Mouse said. “We’re on ‘pause’ at the moment.”

  I was a little befuddled. “You’re kidding, right? We just figured this thing out!”

  “Actually, we haven’t figured anything out,” Mouse replied. “All we’ve been doing is talking, and that’s all it is: talk. Speculation, conjecture, and guesswork. We need an expert, which is why I sent a message to Rune.”

  I suddenly recalled Mouse typing on his tablet just a few minutes earlier. Apparently he’d sent for the arcane cavalry.

  “Okay,” I said. “Is he on his way?”

  Mouse shrugged. “Rune’s a bit of a paradox. He’s not the kind of guy you can think of as being ‘on call.’ He kind of does his own thing, although he’s usually there when we need him.”

  “In other words,” BT said, “you don’t know where he is.”

  “I have certain channels I can use to get a message to him,” Mouse said defensively. “And that’s what I’ve done. But no, I don’t know exactly where he is. He went abroad to check out some hoodoo ritual a few weeks back and I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked in surprise. “Rune’s here.”

  Mouse’s bug-eyed expression clearly showed that this was news to him. “You’ve seen him?”

  “Yeah, right after we thumped the bad guys in the courtyard,” I said. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

  Mouse shook his head, and then started typing again on his tablet, speaking as his fingers flew furiously. “No, we didn’t really ask for a head count, and since everyone was tired, we didn’t try to get a full debrief. We got the condensed version from Electra and sent everybody home with milk and cookies.”

  “Well, there’s not much more to tell,” I said. “Rune apparently popped up while we were fighting, got bopped on the noggin, and asked for someone to help him back to his room.”

  Mouse stopped typing for a second and looked up. “Wait a minute. Rune got hurt?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but from what I could see it didn’t look too bad, although it was a head injury.”

  “That’s one for the record books,” Mouse said as he went back to typing. “I’ve never seen that guy get so much as a scratch.”

  “By the way, how is it that Rune already has a finished room here?” I asked.

  “Rune doesn’t require much more than four walls for living space,” Mouse said. “Apparently his magic provides whatever other creature comforts he requires. I had to beg him to let me install drywall and flooring.”

  Mouse made a final tap on his tablet with a flourish. “Got him!”

  He pointed to one of the large monitors situated nearby, where the screen had changed from displaying data to an image of a wide hallway. Walking down the corridor was Rune, still dressed as I had seen him the night before. In addition, he was carrying a brown satchel slung across his shoulder.

  “How’d you find him?” I asked. “Biometric tracking?”

  “No, that doesn’t work when it comes to Rune,” Mouse responded. “His magic usually blocks it, so I didn’t even try. I just went with motion sensors.”

  Watching him on the screen, I saw Rune walking tentatively and looking around in an odd, scatterbrained manner.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I asked. “He looks like he’s lost.”

  “You said he took a blow to the head,” BT replied. “Maybe he’s got a concussion.”

  I nodded, having received a concussion myself in the not-too-distant past. I could vouch for the fact that it could definitely turn your memory in
to a block of Swiss cheese.

  Mouse sighed as Rune tried a door on one side of the hallway and timidly stuck his head inside when it opened. “It looks like he’s on the third sub-basement level, and I don’t think the PA system is working down there yet. We’re going to have to go get him.”

  “Not a problem,” I said, staring at the expanse of hallway on the screen. “I recognize that area; I’ve been down there before. I can pop down and bring him back.”

  “Thanks,” Mouse said.

  “Don’t mention it,” I said. “Besides, even if the PA system was working, he looks too confused to find his way here.”

  I teleported to the hallway where Rune was, appearing behind him. He still had his head in the doorway that I’d seen him peeking into on Mouse’s monitor.

  “Excuse me–” I said.

  Rune yelped, turning around almost in fright and slamming the door shut. I felt apprehension and anxiety – almost outright panic – pounding through him like white water rapids.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said. “Mouse wants to see you.”

  I felt his nerves settling down a bit, but not much.

  “Mouse?” he said, questioningly. Then a light bulb seemed to come on. “Oh, Mouse! Yes, of course!”

  “Is it okay if we go right now?

  “Absolutely,” he said, taking a step towards me. “That’s fi–”

  “–ne,” he finished, and staggered a little bit, off-balance. I had teleported us while he was speaking. (He had also been in the process of walking, which left his equilibrium a bit off when we appeared.)

  Mouse came over, not wasting any time on small talk. “We’ve got a situation, and I need your opinion on whether magic’s involved.”

  Mouse launched into an explanation of what was going on and our suspicions about magic playing a role in things. Rune seemed to be paying attention, but on an emotional level, he seemed to be a complete wreck. There was a mounting worry and dread in him that seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds. Moreover, it seemed to be taking a physical toll, because the unusual symbols that covered his body – and which were normally in motion – were completely still.

  “Well,” he said, when Mouse had finally finished, “it certainly sounds as though a level of mysticism is involved. I shall endeavor to consult the proper portents to see if divination of these events presages an ill omen for all affected.”

  As he spoke, Rune had casually but determinedly made his way to the door leading out of Mouse’s lab.

  “And now,” he said, grabbing the handle and opening the door, “I go to commune with the esoteric. Good day.”

  He exited, emotions still gyrating wildly, leaving us staring at the door as it closed behind him.

  “What the…?” I began, more than a little perplexed. “Was it just me, or was that completely weird?”

  “You mean what he said?” Mouse asked. “It wasn’t completely weird if you know Rune. I was more surprised to see him walk out of here. He uses the door less often than you do. Most times he just vanishes.”

  “Well, let’s just hope he gets us an answer quickly,” BT said.

  “I’m not exactly sure he said he’d give us one at all, but I’ll make sure he knows it’s a rush job,” I said.

  I shifted into super speed and dashed out the door. Rune was walking down the hallway outside Mouse’s lab, away from me. I shifted back into normal speed.

  “Hey, Rune,” I called out, jogging leisurely in his direction.

  Rune glanced back at me, then turned face-forward again and walked around a corner, never breaking stride. I turned the corner, just a second or two behind him – and bumped into Dynamo. Rune was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sorry,” I began. “I was looking for–”

  I abruptly stopped speaking as, empathically, I felt a familiar surge of emotions coming from Dynamo: anxiety, dread, and more that – just minutes earlier – I had felt coming from Rune. Moreover, now that I looked him over, Dynamo was wearing Rune’s clothes.

  The truth hit me like an uppercut from a heavyweight boxer: this wasn’t Rune or Dynamo. It was a shapeshifter!

  Chapter 27

  The shapeshifter had pulled a neat trick. Once around the corner, he had immediately changed his appearance. Most people only look at the faces of those they encounter, so even though I was right behind him and his clothes had not changed, he had been counting on my being fooled by a new face. It was actually a good strategy, and one that I, as a fellow shapeshifter, had used myself on occasion.

  What he hadn’t banked on, however, was my ability as an empath – that I would see through his ruse because of his emotional broadcasts. He did, however, see the light of recognition in my eyes and instantly sensed that the jig was up.

  The shapeshifter swung at my head. I phased, and the intended blow passed harmlessly through me, striking the wall with enough force to echo down the hallway. The shapeshifter screeched in pain, cradling the fist that had struck the wall with his good hand. Apparently, although he could mimic Dynamo’s appearance, he didn’t have his powers. Good to know.

  I swung, putting a little extra zip into the blow and making my fist solid just before it connected with his chin. His head snapped to the side. I immediately teleported behind him, gripped his head in my hands, and smashed it into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Then I teleported back in front of him and planted a solid fist in his gut. All of the air came whooshing out of him, and I phased as he fell forward, passing through my insubstantial form and hitting the floor face-first. I was pretty sure he was unconscious, but I gave him a good kick in the ribs just to make sure, and then wrapped him in my power and teleported.

  *****

  “So,” Mouse said, looking at our prisoner, “we’ve been infiltrated.”

  “Apparently,” I said.

  Our shapeshifter was still unconscious, stretched out on a cot in a nullifier cell. A nullifier is a device that – as the name implies – nullifies super powers. Alpha League HQ had several cells equipped with them for those occasions when we had to hold supervillains. I had teleported the shapeshifter to one of them after coldcocking him in the hallway. I had then contacted Mouse, who had hustled over to join me, leaving BT in the lab.

  The cell itself was essentially what you would expect, containing a cot, a sink, and a chair, along with floor-to-ceiling walls at the back and on both sides. However, whereas you would typically envisage bars at the front of an ordinary cell, ours contained a powerful force field.

  Now that he was in a nullifier cell with his powers turned off, I could see what the shapeshifter actually looked like. He was a little shorter than me – maybe five-ten – and rather on the thin side. He was about fifty, with sparse, graying hair and an oversized nose. In short, he wasn’t particularly impressive.

  In addition to tossing him into the nullifier cell, I had also taken the liberty of stripping him of his clothes and all personal effects. (Actually, I had simply teleported it all off him.) Thus, all he wore at the moment was a sleeveless white T-shirt and a pair of boxers with cartoon characters on them.

  “His name’s Proteus, by the way,” Mouse said. “He’s a well-known shapeshifter, allegedly able to fool almost anybody.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” I acknowledged. “And looking at the way he almost pulled a fast one on us, I’d say his reputation is well-deserved.”

  “Well, with his subterfuge revealed, we at least have a better idea of what last night was about,” Mouse continued. “All of the destruction around town was probably to get as many supers as possible away from HQ. Then the attack on HQ itself was to distract anyone still here, allowing our friend here to sneak in.”

  “A double distraction,” I said. “And apparently it worked – at least enough to get him in. We still don’t know exactly what he was after.”

  “We may not know, but we do have some hints.”

  With that, Mouse turned once again to the items I had removed from the
shapeshifter after capturing him, all of which were laid out on a nearby table. He had already gone through them twice before, but if anything had caught his attention, he’d kept it to himself.

  There was nothing special about the clothes, but I had found one of the beeping crystal bands (which was silent at the moment) on one of his wrists, as well as a watch on the other. Other than that, there were just some interesting odds and ends in his satchel, things that a junk dealer might have an interest in.

  Mouse picked up one of the items from the satchel, an interesting curio that looked like a miniature seashell painted a funky shade of purple. It fit snugly in the palm of his hand.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “First and foremost,” he said, “why take on Rune’s appearance?”

  I shrugged. “He’s the League member least likely to be present, maybe, decreasing the odds that you’ll be discovered.”

  “I thought that, too, but there’s got to be more to it than that, and I think this shell is it.”

  “What’s so special about it?”

  “Remember our discussion earlier, about how it’s possible to get magical power from some objects?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, whenever we recover one of those items from a villain with mystical powers, we generally hand it over to Rune.”

  “Of course. He’s the League member with the most experience with arcane objects, so he’s the best person to keep it safe.”

  “Exactly, and – as far as I know – Rune has always had a habit of keeping such things in his room. Like this seashell.”

  I was surprised. “That’s from Rune’s room?”

  “I’m almost positive, unless there are two of them. But I’m sure I’ve seen this one before in his quarters. And it’s a safe bet” – he fumbled through some of the other items from the satchel – “that a number of these others are from there as well.”