Sidekick

by Carl Stubblefield

  Gus was about to go back inside when he looked upward. A super in a mechanized suit stood watching him with a curious tilt of his head. Gus assumed a defensive pose, but the super made no effort to attack.

  After a tense moment, Gus retreated toward the front entry to the manor, all the while with his hands in a placating gesture as if the mech were a wild animal. Still the super made no moves. Gus entered and half-expected the robot to have alerted his fellows, but the atrium and lobby were empty except for the abandoned female super.

  Gus checked her health and only after seeing it was mostly full did he activate Leech. Gus saw on his minimap that one team was now in the control room, while others had spread out to search the floors in teams of two. The invaders were clearing rooms in military fashion and working their way through the first floor.

  He-Man Woman Hater by Extreme. Success rates x8.

  Added effect: +10% damage to female supers. +2 Strength.

  Gus wouldn’t consider himself a misogynist, but the intro to this song, Flight of the Wounded Bumblebee, always got him pumped up. The song couldn’t have been better timed as he spotted two supers patrolling this floor, both female.

  With a thought, Gus called Jet to his outstretched hand as he ran toward the two supers. He activated Hyper and doubled his Agility, noticing an immediate increase in speed. It was only this that allowed him to move quickly enough to dodge three orange darts the woman on the right flung directly into his path.

  Bracing against one wall and taking a couple steps, Gus flipped and leaped over the pair, swinging Jet in mid-flight. There was a satisfying crack, but when Gus landed and rolled, he saw that he had not connected with his target’s head, but with her forearm, which now bent at an odd angle.

  She held it with the other and screamed in agony while her partner advanced. She let loose with a barrage of swipes and grabs, each narrowly missing Gus and forcing him back. Even with his extra speed, he was losing ground and barely reacting before she could connect.

  Jet attacked from the other side; she kept her eyes fixed on Gus, deftly blocking Jet’s probing strikes without even looking. Gus saw his stamina bar draining like it had a heavy leak.

  “What a disappointment. Too stupid to know you shouldn’t try to prevail against a superior force,” the woman spat, not even winded from her efforts.

  TNT by AC/DC. Success rates x16.

  Added effect: +10% damage to area-of-effect attacks.

  Gus felt a surge of strength with the sudden jump in power. He felt his muscles tightening. The woman’s words stung in far too personal a way. He gave in to the inner rage that he had managed to tamp down for his whole life. Every bully he had had to deal with since the punks in the parking lot, the weakness he felt in himself around his father and brother, all the times he had been cheated or pushed around. It flowed out, and kept coming. He had crammed so much in there.

  He raged that there was such disparity in the world at large. Too many went unpunished for the wrongs they committed. They took what they wanted and went unchallenged. The thought of how much this must be going on everywhere if he had seen so much of it in just his own experience. Some people were always taking, and had an insatiable desire for more.

  Gus looked at his hands and arched his eyebrows, a manic grin on his face. Time to take it all back. He pulled Jet to him and let the katas take over. The two moved and counterattacked, the space between the *thuds* and *thwacks* shortening as each blow was countered then returned.

  Gus saw a countdown timer on the lower right of his display, but was so occupied that he couldn’t see it well enough to read what it was measuring. When it ended, however, it became incredibly clear as Hyper deactivated and Gus’ motions slowed to a crawl. He tried to move to block an incoming swipe, but it was like moving underwater. A fingernail scratched along his cheek like a gentle caress.

  With this done, the woman stepped back and bowed. Gus readied himself to fight on, when he noticed his MP and his already sparse stamina bar drained to zero. A sudden dizziness caught him and he fell forward.

  The room spun and Gus hit the floor, and the world continued to twirl.

  “Yes, we’ve got him. Here are the coordinates…”

  Sounds became quiet then suddenly loud as Gus’ senses were scrambled. He fought nausea until someone flipped him over onto his back.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Basileus crowed. “Drag him over here.”

  Two supers roughly jerked Gus forward by his arms and dropped him unceremoniously at his feet.

  “You just saved us so much time, I really appreciate this.” He steepled his fingers and tapped his lips with his index fingers. “Let’s get him to the control room, and make this official!”

  Gus swooned as they pulled him suddenly upright, and when he came to, he was somewhere else, the dizziness only slightly diminished.

  “Press his hand there,” someone commanded.

  Gus felt warmth play under his hand as the scanner worked and the pinprick as the system confirmed his identity. “Okay, now you do the same, Basileus,” another super directed.

  Gus saw them cheer as ownership of the manor was transferred and all functions were switched over.

  “Boss, there is a problem with some of the functions. This little turd-merchant has been screwing with the directories. We may need him later if I can’t unscramble some of this mess. Hopefully not. I’ll keep working on this, and there’s a good possibility we won’t need him. Then you can do what you want with him,” the hacker recommended, pushing his amber-colored glasses back up his nose.

  “I have just the thing,” Basileus said cruelly, then punched Gus repeatedly in the face until everything faded into darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Falling to Pieces

  Gus awoke with wind fluttering in his ears. He opened his dry crusty eyes and began screaming, realizing that he was falling. Pinwheeling his arms around he flailed in the darkness.

  “Nick, where am I?” Only silence answered back. He tried to activate his Advanced Flight skill and found that he could barely touch the skill, it only slowed his descent slightly and was much more taxing and burned though MP with little effect. Seeing his MP quickly drain to ten percent, he let go of the skill and allowed himself to fall.

  “Hello?” Gus yelled. The sound was swallowed up in the hollow darkness. Gus toggled to his different views through infrared, ultraviolet, and beyond; all that could be seen was inky blackness. He leaned forward and pulled his arms to his sides like he had seen in a James Bond movie, seeing if he could direct his fall. He could tell he was moving in another direction from the feel of the wind rushing by but after maintaining the pose for at least ten minutes, he realized that he was not reaching anything by moving in this direction.

  Gus determinedly tried different directions but to no avail. An hour or two later, he had neither hit the bottom, nor had he found the edges of the pit. He flipped around so that he faced upward, giving his eyes a break from the drying effect of the constant wind. He swiped at the salty residue left from tears that had streamed to the side of his eyes, pushed out from the constant air flowing by him.

  So this is how it ends? Gus didn’t feel like he had died, but how would he know? Nick was gone, his powers were essentially gone, and he had been falling for enough time that he should have hit bottom by now. He waved his hand in front of him and saw nothing.

  The absolute darkness reminded Gus of a trip they had taken through the Midwest. Somewhere along the way, they went into some caves. At one point, the tour guide turned off the lights and the darkness became palpable. I can palp it, Gus thought idly. This was that same darkness.

  His stomach growled, which gave Gus pause. The word ‘nothing’ drifted into his mind as he stared out into the void. He was in the middle of nothing and nowhere. Maybe this was Limbo? Gus was never religious, but his mind could not see how he could be in this situation.

  What if it’s an illusion? Did some super do something
and trap me in my own mind? Gus had always been afraid of being trapped in a dark place where he couldn’t move.

  He’d watched a documentary movie on spelunking when he was a kid and how people would sometimes get stuck and not be able to move forwards or backwards. They showed how they would break someone’s collarbones to fold their arms in and pull people out, but the thought of being trapped and slowly starving was nightmare fuel for quite a while after that.

  Gus tried to access his display and could see nothing. No access to his visual filters, logs, or anything. Not even a clock. The absence rocked him and he felt even more powerless. What if they stripped my powers?! He had been so flippant in taking their abilities. Maybe karma was kicking him where it counted. The trapped feeling became even more intense and his heart rate spiked with panic.

  A couple years ago, his fellow henchman Chuck’s father got Guillain-Barré syndrome. Gus had no idea what it was until Chuck explained it to him. Basically he was trapped in his own body. Awake, but with no control over his limbs or any bodily functions. As he pondered the implications, the same claustrophobia made him tense in wondering what he would do in the same situation. The scariest part was that it could be temporary or last your whole life. Fortunately, Chuck’s father recovered in a couple months, but had to do some physical therapy to regain his strength.

  The few Psi abilities that Gus had been able to Leech required MP for activation, and he thought it unlikely that an illusion could be maintained for so long. With another growl, his stomach announced its disapproval at being empty. Gus checked his pockets and found a few healing gels. No, I had better save them. I may be here a while.

  Save them for what? You’re not getting out of here. Gus shook his head as he fell. Not even a day had passed and he was already talking to himself. It reminded him of his early days on the island. His thoughts got a little weird when he was alone for a long time. Is it weird that my inner voice had a point? What’s the plan? Gus’ mind came up as blank as the area around him. What could he do?

  “Nooooooo!” Gus screamed out loud, his yell disappearing quickly, leaving only the whipping air as he continued to fall. A contorted mass of emotions began to break free. Anger, frustration, then despair. Each flared and then flagged as the wind whipped by, extinguishing their ardor. Still he fell, and eventually only an emotional numbness remained. He had thought getting more powerful was the key to keeping him alive, and keeping the manor. But he had never felt more powerless. Unable to effect any change whatsoever on his environment.

  So this was his reward for using compassion? Trying to use his power for something productive, and nothing to show for it in the end. Those last damn levels came so easy and gave me a false sense of hope. Why do I keep hoping for the best after life keeps beating me down? Am I just super naive in thinking anything I do will ever make a difference?

  With the emotional numbness came a deep fatigue. Was that the sum of life? Struggle then ignominious release? Why am I always struggling? What good has it done me? Realizing the futility of his situation, Gus finally let go.

  All the ranting and bitter feelings were ineffectual. Everything was. So he stopped. For a long time he was alone in his thoughts. And for a while he thought of nothing, which was new. His brain usually got anxious if there was any down time and he got fidgety and played a game on his phone or listened to music. Rarely had he just been alone with absolutely nothing to do.

  At first, he had flashes of thought on things he should try. Why he needed to protect the manor, get back to civilization, and let his family know he was alive. It all failed to inspire him. As if the darkness had penetrated into him and smothered any kernel of hope that was trying to survive. Gus made no effort and let each spark be quenched. In time, the thoughts stopped coming and he was alone.

  It was strange, suddenly having no obligations. He had felt that fate had chosen him for something special. He’d been beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, all the doubters and naysayers were wrong about him. That he really was destined for something great. The weight of that self-imposed duty had increased day by day. There was always something that he was doing inefficiently or incorrectly.

  He had lost though. So now he could rest. At last.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Dream On

  Gus fell for quite some time. A heavy fatigue overwhelmed him and he drifted to sleep and began to dream—a new one that he knew intuitively was a continuation of the young thief who had drank the master’s potions.

  He was back in the alchemist’s manor. A hooded figure stood over his bed, mixing various reagents and pressing compresses to his body. Uncontrollable spasms arched his back until the only thing touching the bed he was resting on were the back of his head and his heels. He then would fall limp. Cold shivers would wrack his body, causing what felt like painful needles to stab into every pore. Then the pain would shift. Raw and hot, burning like he was flayed alive.

  He came in and out of consciousness as the pain grew too intense. Something pressed to his lips every time he gained a brief moment of consciousness. A golden liquid dripped onto his tongue and he gained a brief respite from the pain, until it changed modes.

  As he lay there sweating, the alchemist turned, suddenly looking for something in a rush. The cowl fell away, revealing a woman. Strangely familiar. And she was helping him. After he had stolen so much. Pain blossomed again, stopping all thought. His insides felt like they were expanding, pressing against his skin like a taut sausage casing. Tears fell down the sides of his face as if pressed out. Again a drop of liquid, this one a luminescent amber color, and the pressure subsided. Exhausted he closed his eyes and gave in to oblivion.

  The cycles felt like they went on forever. Occasionally his rest was longer, sometimes shorter as some new form of pain wrenched him out of sleep to mete out more punishment. One time he saw the master alchemist in the doorway, arms folded in stern disapproval. He had no idea why the master had not killed him for his offense. Maybe they had means of extracting that which had been stolen and needed him alive to regain what they had lost.

  He opened his eyes, sticky with some crusty exudate that had partially congealed on his eyelids. Three figures stood beside the plinth-like bed he was laying on in the middle of the workshop.

  “I can fix this, but it will cost you…” the new dark-clad figure growled.

  “Anything, anything! I will do whatever you want—” the woman cried.

  “Watch what you promise! His kind never comes cheap, and we don’t know if he will keep his word.”

  The dark figure held up a hand to forestall any more arguments. “I am all you have. So please do stop trying to negotiate. My time is valuable, so if you do not like my terms, I will be on my way. You will be left to deal with this matter yourselves.”

  “Nooo…” the woman wailed and collapsed.

  Gus came awake with a start. That was new. He’d had the dream with the apprentice thief many times in his life, but it was always the same. He could tell that what he had seen tonight was a continuation, in the weird way things make sense in dreams that sound ludicrous when you try to explain them when awake. Elements of the dream started to fade, and he tried to actively remember them, until the only thing he had left was the woman’s face, which also evaporated into oblivion.

  Chapter Forty

  Running Just to Catch Myself

  Time became a fuzzy concept. There was nothing to separate the moments, and the lack of stimulation allowed his mind to wander. After a time, the falling sensation became almost soothing, and Gus recalled his time floating in his space suit so long ago. He reviewed all of his abilities, and the only one that seemed possibly applicable was Xyzzy. He attempted to fire the ability, but it was too slippery, the high MP cost making it oily to his mind. No matter how he attempted to approach and access the skill, it would not fire.

  See what you get for trying?

  Gus felt even smaller, like a tiny sliver dissolving in the vastness of th
e void that surrounded him.

  At some point, Gus fell asleep and dreamed about some of his jobs as a henchman. While the majority of his jobs were with Purple Faction, the guys had convinced him to take a couple jobs with the Factionless.

  He awoke and for a while tried to think back on what those supers stood for. How they interacted with the world at large. He was embarrassed to say that he really didn’t know. They could have been horrible. He had just gone with the flow, and allowed himself to not feel any responsibility, since he wasn’t directly taking part in any atrocities. Maybe they had been benign, but the fact was Gus really didn’t know. He never took the time to find out.

  Too late to do anything about it.

  Was he any better now? He had gotten so much stronger than he was, but how had he really changed? Or had he? Despite all his powers, he was powerless now. Both to save Aurora and to keep the manor. It should have worked. Leech was an amazingly OP skill and only someone like him could lose despite having it.

  Just rest. These worries are past.

  Gus realized all the time he had wasted worrying about the future. Trying to prepare for things that never happened, or regretting poor choices that left lasting consequences. Always wishing he could go back in time and erase them. Then life would be better.

  He recalled his epiphany about Basileus. That could have been him. Easily. And would he be any less trapped? Would he be better off if things had gone as he had always wished? It would just be a different void, with no apparent progress. But he would have the illusion of someday finding… what? That he was worth something? Of showing everyone they were wrong? Getting the validation from those he admired?