The Invincibles (9 page)

“
Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he said with a hint of a Greek accent. “Now how can I help you?”

Mors boasted a sharp, svelte figure with acidic blue eyes. His long, greasy black hair curled down into a tightly bound ponytail. Stubble cropped up on his chin and complemented his dark-tanned skin. The collar of a gawky, blue shirt flared open and a gray undershirt showed beneath. Baggy black pants bunched down over his worn blue tennis shoes.

Thirty-five years ago, he’d been born during a meteor shower outside of Athena City. Hyperman had saved his parents from a crashing meteorite and even helped with the delivery when it started minutes later. Unfortunately, the interstellar radiation had mutated Mors’s young infant brain. Even now, Hyperman saw the tumor squeezing against Mors’s skull. However, instead of killing him, it had phenomenally increased his intelligence.

Using his ultra-advanced IQ, Mors had built an intimidating fortune and his own international corporation while just a boy. He had only become more successful since. MorsWorld designed technological marvels for common use, including gadget phones, cars, computers, pharmaceuticals, medical equipment, and more. The company also created weapons for militaries, governments, and private individuals. Wormhole guns, teleporting bombs, toxic gases, and underwater battle armor; the list went on and on.

For the right price, MorsWorld even gave people super-powers or found guinea pigs to experiment on and turn into monsters using Diatomite-x, radiation, or outlawed genetics. Oftentimes, once MorsWorld created a super-being, they sold it to the highest bidder as a living weapon. Mors often enjoyed testing his creations against Hyperman to showcase how deadly they were. After all, Hyperman was the gold standard for super-powers and all super-beings were compared to him. A MorsWorld superman proved his worth by how much he frustrated Hyperman.

Despite Nightshadow and Hyperman’s best efforts, they’d never been able to put Mors away for his crimes. They knew he was dirty, but couldn’t prove it in a court of law. Mors never ceased to dot the i’s, cross the t’s, and cover all his tracks. They couldn’t touch him and Mors obviously loved it. However, Hyperman refused to play games with him. He’d come here to send a message and intended for it to get through.

“
I found your satellites in space,” he told Mors, scowling. “I know you created El Dorado and Mutagen too. I scanned their DNA. I know your work, Alex.”

While taking a swig of his drink, Mors swiped his hand through the air. His holo-screens lit up with images of luminous planets, glowing blue flames, and static.

“
It’s unfortunate our deep space probes got in your way while you were fighting that menace Mutagen,” he said, “but we have the next generation satellite models ready to launch anyway. More importantly, you kept anyone from getting hurt. So thank you for that. I will have you know that MorsWorld is aware our research was stolen and corrupted to create those two poor souls, Mutagen and El Dorado. We’re cooperating fully with the authorities to get the bottom of it, I assure you.”

A smug, self-satisfied look crossed Mors’s face. His heart rate and pulse stayed steady as he spoke. Even when caught red-handed, he remained the very picture of calm and a perfect liar.

It needled Hyperman and put him on edge that he couldn’t do anything to Mors. He needed proof before bringing him to justice, much as he wished he could just throw Mors into space. Mors deserved it, but Hyperman insisted on abiding by the law. Despite his powers, he wasn’t above or better than the system. For the most part, the law worked and played fair with everyone. It was only really Mors escaping the consequences of his actions that rankled him so much, but Hyperman would see that he didn’t get off completely scot-free here.

“
I’m going to watch you and all your operations, Alex,” Hyperman said. “All your offices, labs, stores, and factories. I can hear and see everything you and your people do. At the slightest hint of anything wrong, I’ll shut it all down. You’ll lose everything, I’ll see to that. I’d prefer not to though. Too many people work for you and need their jobs and millions more need your medicines and technologies. Don’t force my hand on this.”

Mors sipped his drink and studied Hyperman for a moment.

“
You really do believe the worst about me, don’t you?” he asked.

“
Of course I do!” Hyperman replied. “You just tried to kill me with one of your monsters! It was the second time in the past few weeks, too!”

Mors rolled his eyes. “I know we’ve had our differences over the years, but for you to accuse me of such a thing? And without any evidence? Surely, the fact that you of all people can’t find proof against me shows that I’m innocent?”

Hyperman laughed and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“
Just don’t go too far with your accusations and actions,” Mors said. “You might frighten people and the response will probably be worse than anything you can imagine.”

He set his empty glass down on the mini-bar and stretched his neck. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work. Do let yourself out.”

He brushed past Hyperman over to his desk, where more holo-screens appeared and a stack of paperwork awaited him. Without looking back over his shoulder, he dove right into his work, filling out forms, signing off on reports, and switching the holo-screens around with his fingertips.

Hyperman stood awkwardly about for a few seconds before realizing that Mors was now ignoring him. Well, he’d said what he wanted, but he’d add an exclamation point to it. He bolted out the window into the sky, making sure he fluttered and scattered all of Mors’s papers around on the way.

***

Back at home, Hyperman vibrated his outfit into faded black sweats and lounged about on his couch with the windows open and a faint, ticklish breeze gusting in. He grabbed his laptop and cracked it open to go online.

He whirled through the thousands of unofficial Hyperman Facebook profiles with their millions and millions of friends, reading all the comments. Most thanked him for all he did, asked him to marry them (whether they were a man or woman), or claimed he was cool, the man, the best, and god. Despite the lower case “g,” being called that bothered him. How many of his fans actually worshipped him? Had there always been people like that, and what more did they expect of him than his other fans? He noticed a few people complimenting him on taking down the MorsWorld satellites. That news had gone viral fairly quickly. The comments all vaguely sounded the same though.

“
Hyperman! Standing up for the working man!”

“
Showing that rich asshole who’s boss!”

“
Money can buy you power, but not HYPER power!”

Of course, the public at large remained unaware of MorsWorld’s unsavory activities. To many, Hyperman had only taken an obscenely rich man who’d bought too much political influence and paid too few taxes down a peg.

Curious now, Hyperman trolled all the major sites to see how the MorsWorld satellite story was being reported. MorsWorld’s official statement claimed Hyperman’s fight with Mutagen had gone all over the solar system with their satellite probes becoming casualties. Luckily, all their data had been saved and transmitted. The press release closed by thanking Hyperman for again saving the world and stating that the satellites were a small price to pay for safety. After reading that, Hyperman rolled his eyes.

Next, he glanced over the commentaries and opinion pieces running about the satellites’ destruction. More than a few complained that Hyperman was far too powerful and could basically do whatever he wanted without consequences. They said he could maim, kill, destroy, and even conquer the world without anyone being able to stop him. He found that offensive. As if he’d ever abuse his hyper-powers like that! He wasn’t a super-villain! He’d saved these people from scum like that time and again, and now he was getting lumped together with the bad guys?

Hyperman bit his lip and read on. Some of these people sounded scared to death of him, and what could he do? A few crazies even called for a war on super-powers before they took over the universe! He shook his head. How many times did he have to save the world to win over everyone? How could anyone in the world not trust him? Despite all his power, he’d never crossed the line and never would. He was a hero, damn it!

His phone buzzed, and he snatched it up. Lindsey’s text message went, “Did u hear about Hyperman and the satellites? Isn’t that scary? He just took them all down and MorsWorld can’t even complain about it! What if those satellites were orbiting earth? They might have hit us when they fell! They had data too. And think of all the science and medicines and inventions we’re losing out on because those satellites were destroyed!”

Hyperman crushed the plastic phone in his hand.

Chapter 4: MEMORY MAN

Green flames whooshed throughout the firehouse. Thick blue smoke dirtied the air. Sirens and smoke alarms shrieked. Fireballs flushed left and right, torching and toppling the walls. The trucks, equipment, axes, lockers, furniture, papers, and boxes of stale pizza all burned.

At the center of the blurry, fiery chaos, Pyro stood with a flamethrower under each arm. The big, bulging gas mask on his face resembled a bulbous fly’s head, and he wore a heavy, bluish-black fireman’s coat over his fire-resistant armor. Nightshadow’s wing-suit had been pushed to its limit. It burned hot and green and seemed ready to fall apart, but still somehow stayed on. Smoke hazed up his mask’s lens, but he still managed to shove the last of the firemen out a window to safety.

He’d gotten lucky and overheard gossip about Pyro planning his latest rampage from a listening device he’d planted in Torchlight’s bathroom. Only a certain number of companies and laboratories had the equipment Pyro needed and Nightshadow searched their inventories, finding key items were missing. He traced them back to the warehouse Pyro was using and found his plans to burn the city’s firehouses down to the ground. He’d gotten to the firehouse too late to stop the flames, but had at least managed to save all the firemen. Of course, they had proven to be a big help, holding off Pyro at first with their fire extinguishers and fire truck hoses and then in escaping the firehouse when things got too hot. They were extremely well trained, and Nightshadow vowed to give the city’s fire academy a huge donation when he had the chance.

The floors and ceiling were collapsing. Fire vomited everywhere. Nightshadow dodged the detritus and flames, hopping onto more stable flooring. Pyro silently went on spraying his flamethrowers, not even noticing the horrible heat nor the firehouse falling down all around him. His gas mask twisted left and right, trying to pinpoint Nightshadow through all the flaming mess. Nightshadow emerged from where he hid in the smoke and dropkicked the fire-blackened fireman’s pole into him. Pyro crashed heavily down to the floor and dropped his flamethrowers. He reached for them, but Nightshadow kicked them away. However, Pyro’s hand flicked up and pulled down on a small lever poking out of the large gas canister strapped to his back. An explosion bloomed out in fierce, beautiful green waves.

Nightshadow jumped away in time. He smashed out through a window the flames had smudged dark ashy blue, but the force of the blast threw him across the street. He crashed down hard on top of a mini-van’s windshield. His head bashed against it, and cracks spider-webbed through the glass. Rolling over, he hit the sidewalk like a sack of smoking, overcooked meat.

Dazed and groggy, he gazed up at Hyperman ripping down out of the sky and blowing a massive gushing breath that put out the fire. As Salome City’s citizens crawled out of the woodwork to stare at the spectacle and cheer on the big hero, Nightshadow managed to slither over to the nearest manhole cover.

***

He hobbled through the putrid, stomach-turning sewers to his lair beneath State Street, a smaller, more cramped version of the Triangle Park one. Naturally, Hyperman, the six-foot-tall super-god with inhumanly perfect abs and flawless, eternally youthful good looks, was waiting for him there. Despite the new enhancements Nightshadow had made to the lair, Hyperman had still easily bypassed all the security safeguards.

Seeing Nightshadow, Hyperman frowned. “You smell like charred meat,” he said.

“
Feel like it too,” Nightshadow muttered. He tore off his mask and began stripping off his sweaty, fire-scorched wing-suit, tossing its ruined components down into a trash chute. Now clad only in the black bodysuit he wore beneath his wing-suit, he collapsed down into a chair in front of his main supercomputer.

He rolled his head back and took a deep, controlled breath. Burns and bruises ached across his entire body. His skin felt hot and itchy. A massive, light-dimming headache exploded against the insides of his skull. The grimace tightening across Hyperman’s face told Nightshadow he looked worse than he felt. However, Nightshadow had already begun locking all the pain away into a box deep inside his mind. That would hold off all his agony for now and allow him to function.