Rogue Superheroes

by Matt Cowper

  Nightstriker tried to remain still, but he couldn't prevent his mouth from twitching slightly.

  “Yes, you know I'm telling the truth,” Lancaster said. “You probably set up Blaze's escape, or at least knew some details. But that's all over now. The poor kid apparently still doesn't have his powers, and Mr. Flexible is a lightweight. They will be brought here shortly – that is, if they don't die during the confused, futile fighting that's sure to occur.”

  Nightstriker raised his bandaged head up as far as it could go, and glared at the President with such fury that the hologram stepped back.

  “Know this, Lancaster,” Nightstriker growled. “If you harm those people in any way, you'll be awakening a power you cannot fathom.”

  For a moment, the President was speechless. Then he laughed – a forced laugh.

  “Did I finally get under your skin?” he mocked. “Good. A person blinded by anger makes mistakes. And if you're angry, those irritating little ploys of yours will die on the vine. Well, I must be off. I'll keep you informed of this group's capture – or of any unfortunate deaths.”

  The hologram blinked out, leaving Nightstriker staring at a smooth white wall with a tiny lens in its center.

  Nightstriker lay his head back down and closed his eyes. It lessened the physical pain, but not the mental.

  Lancaster was right, of course: he hadn't meant to kill himself. He'd meant to do exactly what he'd done: fake a suicide attempt to sow confusion and shock. While he'd been patched up, his teammates had been given a reprieve.

  But that reprieve would be short-lived, and soon they'd all be back under the proverbial guillotine.

  Even though he hated to admit it, he was running out of ideas. Constrained and separated from his team, there was only so much he could do.

  And Blaze...and the Boyd family...and Mr. Flexible...for the first time in a long while, he prayed. Prayed for their safety. Prayed for Blaze to once again become the superhero they needed.

  But his muttered words died in the air as soon as they left his lips.

  Chapter Twenty

  Blaze

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

  Sam tried to make himself smaller and flatter, but he was already scrunched up against the pine tree so tightly it hurt. He wished the tree was bigger, or that it was hollow so he could hide inside.

  Not that either possibility would save him in the end. Midnight, the shadowy, teleporting Patriot, was near, and he had their scent.

  “You're wasting my time, idiots!” the villain called out again. “I know you're here. Reveal yourselves, and I promise I'll teleport you all directly to MegaMax Prison, instead of somewhere far less hospitable.”

  Sam glanced around him, to his parents, Mr. Flexible, and Achilles. They were each hiding behind their own tree, with his mother wrapping her arms tightly around Achilles and pointing at him sternly to keep him quiet.

  A rustling among the pinestraw and leaves, so close it seemed deafening. Any other time, Sam would've thought it was just a squirrel zipping about. But now he knew it was Midnight, walking or teleporting towards them slowly.

  He regretted stopping here, but at the time everyone had agreed that bouncing around in the open would just allow Midnight to teleport right on top of them. They'd thought they could lose him in the forest, but these trees were old-growth pine, with little undergrowth to provide cover. By the time they realized their predicament, they only had a few moments to dive behind their respective pine trees.

  Sam glanced at Mr. Flexible, hoping the superhero was concocting some plan. Was he strong enough to topple one of these pines onto Midnight? Could he slingshot himself at the villain? Could he scoop up a large amount of leaves and toss them at Midnight, hopefully distracting him?

  But Mr. Flexible was just as paralyzed as everyone else. With his powers, he had flattened himself against the pine, so that his body was only as thick as a ruler. Sam had to stop himself from shouting at the superhero angrily. That would give away their position, of course, but it also wasn't fair to Flexible; he had, after all, helped Sam's parents leave Z City, and carried them all this far, with a heartless criminal in hot pursuit.

  What, then, could they do, if Mr. Flexible wasn't going to take charge?

  Sam's desperate deliberations were cut off when a black cloud appeared above his head. He felt the shadows before he saw them. It was like waking up from a nightmare in a cold, dark room.

  “There you are,” the shadow said. “Samuel Johnson Boyd, aka Blaze.”

  Sam yelped like a puppy that's had its tail stepped on, and scrambled away towards his parents. The shadow twisted upright, and its features formed the outline of a man.

  “Well, well, well,” Midnight hissed. “I finally found the last piece of the Elites puzzle. Plus his loving parents, a huggable dog, and a bottom feeder superhero.”

  At this, Mr. Flexible's form puffed out, until he looked like a hardcore bodybuilder. He strode out from behind his tree and faced the Patriot. Sam regretted his earlier mental condemnation of the superhero; Mr. Flexible looked truly valiant as he stood between them and the living portal.

  “These people are under my protection,” the hero said stoutly, crossing his large arms. “Leave, before you get hurt.”

  Midnight laughed, an echoing sound that made Achilles growl and paw the ground.

  “You're hilarious,” Midnight said. “Mr. Flexible, right? Some Class C jiggling superhuman is gonna stop me? Please. But I do have orders – unfortunately – so excuse me while I bring some backup.”

  Suddenly, the shadow was gone, and the forest became much brighter and warmer. Achilles relaxed, and the birds resuming singing. Even Sam felt his heart slow down, though he knew they were still in grave danger.

  Then an enormous black man stood in front of them. He grunted and pounded his fists together, making a sound like thunder.

  It was Breaker, aka Lucas Flint, the ex-follower of the Giftgiver who was now a Patriot.

  “Hey, folks,” he said, his tone mockingly cordial. “Nice day for a stroll in the woods, ain't it?”

  Achilles began growling again, and the shadow returned. Midnight stood by Breaker, a malicious leer on his dark face.

  “Boss's orders,” he said. “He didn't want me taking you all on alone. Though teleporting in the big guy here does use up my energy.”

  Breaker grunted. “You ain't so tired you can't join in on the whupping, are you?”

  That soul-killing laugh. “No, I'm not.”

  Now faced with two Patriots, Mr. Flexible's muscles deflated a bit. But Sam was again proud to see he didn't retreat an inch.

  “I repeat: these people are––” he began.

  “Shut up,” Breaker said. “You're about as threatening as an action figure from a cereal box.”

  “Surrender, and you'll be treated humanely,” Midnight said. “Resist, and you will suffer. Decide now – or I'll make the decision for you.”

  Mr. Flexible glanced back at Sam, his eyes moist. Sam felt his own eyes become watery. The superhero let out a heavy sigh, causing his chest to deflate even more, then turned back to the two villains.

  “Run!” he shouted, before shooting his elongated arms at his opponents.

  Sam didn't stop to watch the battle unfold. He grabbed his parents and Achilles, and they all rushed away, slipping on the pine needles and crashing into trees in their haste.

  Achilles was much quicker than them, but he only ran a few dozen yards ahead before he stopped and waited for them to catch. Sam loved the dog for his loyalty, and wished he could move as fast as the husky.

  Behind them, a few pine trees thumped to the ground, seemingly causing the whole forest to shake, and there were shouts and curses. Then a pitiful scream, followed by eerie stillness.

  They kept running, hoping to find better hiding spots, or to encounter someone who could help them.

  But all the trees looked the same, and there was no other help nearby.

  Then
a shadow appeared in front of them. They all skidded to a halt, except for Achilles, who raced around Midnight, nipping at him ineffectively.

  “That elastic buffoon lasted longer than I expected,” Midnight said. “I thought he'd fall in under five seconds, but he lasted about twenty.”

  “You...you,” Sam sputtered. “What did you do?”

  “Killed him, of course,” Breaker said. The behemoth had lumbered up behind them, and was now leaning nonchalantly against a tree. “Turns out, his stretchiness did have a limit. He tried to wrap himself around my hands, but I just ripped him in two. Sorta felt like opening a plastic freezer bag.”

  He opened his hand, and a thin, slick object, like a blown-out tire, plopped to the ground. With dawning horror, Sam realized it was Mr. Flexible's rubbery flesh.

  “You...you murderers!” Sam's father shouted as he pointed at the gruesome remains. “Mr. Flexible didn't deserve that!”

  “Shove it, pops,” Breaker said. “He knew the deal when he attacked us.”

  He walked towards them, his steps causing the ground to rumble. They all backpedaled, but behind them was a malicious shadow, capable of teleporting them to instant death. Sam wrapped his arms around his parents, and they hugged him tightly back.

  “You know how we found you idiots?” Breaker asked. “Go on, guess.”

  “They wouldn't believe it if you told them,” Midnight said.

  “Well, I'll tell 'em anyway. It was Nightstriker. He told us he'd assigned Mr. Flexible to look out for Mr. and Mrs. Boyd here. He even told us you'd all end up at that cute little B&B at Cape Covenant.”

  “You're a fucking liar!” Sam shouted. “Nightstriker would never break, no matter how much you tortured him!”

  “Still worshiping your dear leader, huh?” Midnight said. “Even though he's captured and helpless? Well, some people just have an invincible cult of personality. But to return to the point: Breaker is, actually, lying to you. The truth of how we found you is much simpler – and much more disheartening.”

  “Yup, it just confirms that the masses are bigoted morons,” Breaker said. “When your parents and Mr. Flexible arrived in Cape Covenant, some townsfolk thought they looked a little suspicious. When you showed up, with your hunted look, and went into the same bed-and-breakfast they did, it looked even more suspicious. We got some anonymous tips, and Midnight 'ported in to investigate.”

  “And there you were,” Midnight said, his form rippling in what Sam thought was his version of joy. “The people you fought so hard to protect, turning on you without remorse. Makes one rethink the whole superheroing thing, doesn't it?”

  “He ain't a superhero, not anymore,” Breaker said. “If he was, we would've seen those fire powers of his by now. But he's just standing there hugging his parents like a lost little kid.”

  “Well, then, it should be easy to dispatch the Boyd family, shouldn't it?” Midnight said.

  Breaker opened his giant hands. “Yeah. It should.”

  One hand smothered his mother's head, and one hand smothered his father's. He yanked Sam's parents from him, and though Sam tried to hold on, he tumbled to the ground like he'd been hit by a truck.

  “No!” he shouted, trying to rise. “Stop it!”

  Breaker stuck out his foot, tapping him lightly. If a normal person had done it, their foot wouldn't have moved a water bottle. But with Breaker's superstrength, it felt like he'd kicked Sam full-on, with a steel-toed boot.

  “Thing is, kid: we're interested in you, but we ain't interested in your parents,” Breaker said.

  A gray blur flew by Sam. Achilles! With a growl that brought to mind a wolf fighting a challenger on the tundra, the husky leapt at Breaker, claws and teeth ready to kill.

  But Breaker kicked the dog in the chest, and Achilles yelped and went flying into a tree, hitting with a horrendous crack.

  Sam willed their beloved dog to rise, but Achilles's eyes were vacant, and he did not move again.

  “And we ain't interested in your dog,” Breaker continued. “So say goodbye to everyone, Sammy boy.”

  He closed his hands, and there was a sound like watermelons cracking onto the pavement. Suddenly there was a lot of blood on the ground, and on Breaker's hands.

  Two headless people stood before him. Then gravity asserted itself, and they toppled. The bodies twitched for a few seconds, before falling as still as Achilles.

  “Noooooooooo!” Sam screamed.

  Anthony and Isabel Boyd, Sam's parents, husband and wife of twenty-five years, were dead.

  Sam stared at the horror of blood, flesh, and brain matter. It didn't seem possible. It was an illusion, a trick. Even the worst supervillains didn't crush the skulls of their enemies.

  But the gore didn't disappear, and his parents didn't step out of an illusion. Midnight and Breaker didn't laugh and reveal their deception.

  This was real. He could feel it, as clearly as he could feel Midnight's shadows shifting behind him.

  He also felt something else.

  The fire.

  Breaker knelt down and wiped his bloody hands on the pinestraw. “Doing that is so messy. But it always makes an impression – right, Sammy?”

  “Yes,” Blaze said. “It does.”

  The fire poured out of him. From his hands. From his mouth. From his eyes. From his ears. From every pore. More fire than he'd ever felt. More than when he'd been trying to save Metal Gal from danger. More than when he'd absorbed the energy from the Beacon's core.

  He was the fire.

  “Shit!” Breaker said, holding his hands in front of his face. “Get us outta here, Midnight! He's gonna––”

  Blaze opened his hand, and flame roared out of him, surging in every direction, screaming like a banshee, incinerating everything in its path, turning any water it came across to steam, superheating the very air until the atmosphere threatened to disintegrate.

  He closed his hand, and the inferno ceased. He turned around slowly, surveying his work.

  The forest was gone. Acres and acres of trees, reduced to ash. The ground was black and smoldering. Sam shaded his eyes, trying to see if there were any trees within sight, but there was nothing.

  He'd also incinerated the bodies of his parents and Achilles, and for this he felt a brief pang of regret. They'd deserved a proper burial, not to be cremated here, at the site of their horrible demise.

  But the fire burned those thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to second-guess oneself or mourn.

  Now it was time for revenge.

  Something moved nearby. Blaze turned, calm and unhurried. He instinctively knew that few things could hurt him now. He was barely thinking about maintaining his Fire Shield, yet the shield felt as thick as triple-plated ultimatium.

  It was Breaker. He was somehow still alive, though badly burned. The flesh on his arms and the front of his body had been burnt almost to the bone. He rolled over and looked up at Blaze, his lips quivering.

  “You...you did this,” he whispered.

  “Yes. I did.”

  “You...melted Midnight. I saw him go, just before...that wasn't supposed to be possible.”

  “Yet it happened.”

  “Can't...can't....”

  “Can't what?” Blaze said, walking towards the muscle man. “Kill you?”

  “No...please....”

  Blaze put a superheated foot on the villain, and Breaker squealed in agony. He flailed, trying to knock the foot away, but his vaunted strength didn't cause Blaze to move an inch.

  “I'm supposed to forgive you, after what you've done?” Blaze asked, flame spewing from his mouth with every syllable. “After seeing you shatter my parents' skulls?”

  “President Lancaster...he's the one...forcing us to––”

  “I intend to pay our President a visit. But that doesn't absolve you of responsibility. You knew what you were doing was wrong, just like you did when you followed the Giftgiver.”

  “Not true. I––”

  “Shut up.”<
br />
  He reached down and grabbed the man's head, lifting him up easily. Again, Breaker flailed, but he succeeded in doing nothing but sloughing off his own ruined flesh.

  “I think I'll give you a death similar to the one you gave my parents,” Blaze said. “Except instead of crushing your head, I'm going to melt it.”

  “Please...oh God...stop!”

  Breaker's face melted away, the skin and meat sizzling like grilled steak. His eyes ran down his body like hot milk. Then the flesh and hair were gone, leaving only the skull. That melted just as easily, leaving nothing but a stump flecked with ash.

  Blaze dropped the decapitated body, then looked down at it curiously.

  Deep down, he knew what he'd just done was wrong.

  He didn't care.

  He considered incinerating Breaker's body, then decided to leave it as it was. It would be a ghastly warning for whoever found it. And people would be showing up soon to investigate; it was hard to miss a surge of power that obliterated an entire forest.

  Blaze took to the air, flying faster than ever before, so fast the landscape below was a blur.

  His destination: MegaMax Prison, to free his teammates.

  His next destination: Washington, D.C., to kill the President and his entire administration.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nightstriker

  The door to his room opened, and two guards marched in, followed by the Judge. Nightstriker glared at them, but none of his visitors felt like a contest of wills. They looked, in fact, sheepish, and this concerned Nightstriker more than if they'd come in hurling insults.

  Even the Judge's face was slick with sweat, and his eyes darted around the room like he expected the very walls to attack him. He had a parcel of some sort in his hand.

  “What are you waiting for?” he barked at the guards. “Untie him!”

  The two guards slung their AR-999s over their shoulders and busied themselves undoing the dozens of straps holding down Nightstriker. The Judge began removing the wires connected to Nightstriker and shutting down the medical equipment.