“Workstation’s in the back. Everyone take a row,” Carson said.
They crept forward, gaining some cover as the noise and flashing lights masked their approach. They realized she was on to them as small turrets dropped from the ceiling. Tiny phuts of gas sounded as tranquilizer darts whizzed over their heads. After a moment they were all hiding behind servers, out of view…and the only way to approach her was to put themselves in the line of fire.
“Brainy,” Crypto called out. “Keep ahead of her! Psy-Block! I think you and I need to mess with her mind. Ready?”
Psy-Block’s voice came around a server to his left. “I sure am. Give me one second! Here we go!”
The setting changed subtly as Psy-Block drew Crypto and Mizu into a realm of pure thought. Ideally, Mizu was so busy tapping the servers she wouldn’t even notice the change. Kyle edged around one server to see Psy-Block, who spun a mental, multi-limbed exoskeleton around herself. She clanked around the servers, attracting Mizu’s attention. Crypto could hear the pounding of Mizu’s hands on the keyboard, and he sped forward, running through the maze of servers, finally launching himself at her with a war cry. He knocked her back, and they rolled, tumbling to the floor as he punched her. Or punched at her. She threw him off without any effort, and he saw Psy-Block clank into position behind her.
“Damn you, Kyle. I’m saving the world!” Mizu shouted.
“Not with our stuff, you’re not,” Psy-Block yelled. She reached out from behind Mizu, extended her claws and slashed at her face, her arms, her legs. Raindrops coalesced around them, grew into a downpour, then turned into an ocean as if fire hoses were turned on them. One stream knocked Crypto against a server, twitching as the equipment shorted out in a burst of sparks and noise.
Psy-Block danced around the streams, grabbed Mizu’s hands, immobilizing her. Monstrous scissors extended from Psy-Block’s metal arms, bent toward Mizu and snipped her imaginary hands right off.
Mizu screamed and thrashed in a violent craze as she tried to shake her attacker off. Psy-Block finally relented, releasing the girl. The two New Angels watched bitterly as she flopped and twirled, crying bloody hands as she tried to deal with the new attack.
The scene dissolved as Psy-Block collapsed, releasing Mizu and Crypto from her mind game. He returned to his senses to see Braintrust, reaching for the console, plugging herself into SCRAM’s network, and deep diving into the works to repair the damage that Mizu had done. Psy-Block lay twitching on the floor, deep in a seizure, and Mizu sobbed and screamed about her hands, crying in a ball at the other end of the hallway. She lay in a shallow pool of water, the stone turning to liquid beneath her. Her hands, while still attached to her, flopped limply as she waved her arms. Still stuck in her head, she likely didn’t even see them.
Carson looked down at the women. Crypto had never seen him so angry as he looked back up. “What the hell did she do?”
“Psy-Block separated her from her computer telepathy,” Crypto said. “She’s still a rainmaker, but her hacking days are over. Unless she actually learns Python, that is.”
“Good job,” Braintrust said. “I’ll finish up here. You guys—”
“Too late.”
Crypto glared at Agent Carson. “I’ll clean up my mess. You clean up yours,” he said, pointing to Mizu. “If I remember correctly, the shielded holding cells are down on level five. That right?”
Carson took a step, back in control of his feelings. “They are. I…thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done this alone.”
“You could have. If you’d wanted to.”
“Not really. I’m just one person. It helps to have a solid team behind you. Doesn’t it?”
Crypto watched the New Angels as they worked. Strongarm was moving equipment into place for Braintrust’s recovery and repair scheme, and Psy-Block seemed to be shaking less, merely trembling now. These folks were as close to home as he got. What else did he have? An office in the Pentagon and piles of paperwork? No, this was better. He could see that clearly now.
“It does.” He went to Psy-Block’s side and held her hand, keeping her limbs from twisting, and waiting for her to come back to them. Eventually, the seizing stopped, and she started breathing normally. Her eyes opened. “How long?”
“A minute, maybe two. Mizu is in worse shape.”
She rolled onto her side and nodded. “Oy. Didn’t mean to take her out that harshly, but it seemed like the thing to do.”
“She’ll be fine. She has a team to take care of her. And if she’s in a holding tank, SCRAM won’t actually try to kill her.” He raised his head and his voice. “Agent Carson is good at keeping his people alive.”
Carson took a deep breath and let it out, then went to scoop his protégé into his arms and headed out. His armored vest slowly dissolved beneath her, staining the rest of his clothes as he brought Mizu over. “I’ll take her down. Mr. Armstrong. You group’s security clearances will be sent shortly. Thank you again for your help.” Carson left a wet trail as he left.
Braintrust raised an eyebrow as Crypto folded his arms. “Security clearances? You made us part of SCRAM? After what you saw today?”
Strongarm smiled. “Absolutely. We have bills to pay and being part of SCRAM helps us get noticed. Besides, I don’t think these government types can survive without us. Do you?”
A Word From Jon Frater
I’m Jon Frater: librarian, old school D&D player, and all around sci-fi junkie. I’m a fan of the MCU, but when I was in college, the worst Marvel title was the post-Chris Claremont X-Men and the worst X-Man was Cypher. Fans hated reading about him, the artists hated drawing him. And yet, I thought he had promise. A dude with the mutant power to understand and speak any language in the world was wasted working with the punch-happy New Mutants and X-Men. He needed to be working for S.H.I.E.L.D, or in my case, SCRAM. Some super spy organization that could appreciate him.
If you haven’t figured it out by now (and of course you have), “Crypto” is my tribute to Cypher. Or, the Cypher I wish existed before I abandoned the X-Men for Garth Ennis’s John Constantine: Hellblazer, Mike Grell’s Green Arrow and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I did writing it, and I want to thank Steve Beaulieu for allowing me to stretch my writer’s wings and letting me play in his super-verse.
You can also check out my last installment: Fixing Sniper Girl in Steve Beaulieu Presents: Collateral Damage.
I’m slowly but surely adding to my short and long fiction collections, and I’ll be releasing Greenstreets, the next installment in my New York City Expocalypse series in November 2017. If you’re interested in connecting with me, you can find me here:
Blog
Facebook: Jon Frater
Twitter: Jon_Frater
Amazon
Superhero Talk Show
By Dean Floyd
Skycam 1 hovered over the clapping, smiling audience, gliding down until it rested on the well-lit stage where the host laughed at an inside joke with his guests. “Welcome back to the show. I’m your host, Tony Cantrell, and in case you're just joining us, we’ve been speaking with our city’s infamous hero, Greyscale.” Tony paused while applause erupted, flashing the camera a toothy smile before continuing. “Greyscale claims that his arch nemesis, Dr. Chromatic, kidnapped his son, who had just taken up the mantle of Greyscale’s new sidekick, Pitfall. He claims that Dr. Chromatic took his son last summer, and in the time since, the doctor has allegedly brainwashed Pitfall, making him think he is not our legendary superhero's sidekick.
“Dr. Chromatic’s parole officer has graciously allowed the doctor to join us in person today. Dr. Chromatic come on out!” Camera 3 shot past Tony’s raised palm, zooming to the side entrance, stage right. On cue, a light illuminated the doorway and out stepped Dr. Chromatic shadowed by his armed parole officer. Most of the crowd booed, a few even throwing cups and snacks at the villain. Dr. Chromatic took it all in stride, slithering his way to the empty modern arm
chair designated for him, carrying with him his signature keytar.
“Dr. Chromatic, thank you for joining us today,” said Tony with genuine fervor. “This is an incredible opportunity in TV history to sit, in a neutral zone as it were, and hear both sides of the story.”
Camera 4 switched over to Greyscale, catching a glimpse of his massive pewter gloved fingers digging into the armrest.
Dr. Chromatic took a bow, propped his keytar on the side of the armchair and slumped into the chair.
“I trust that your keytar is a simple prop today?” said Tony with a nervous laugh.
“Oh, this ole’ thing? Of course,” said Dr. Chromatic, jutting a thumb at the officer behind him. “You think he’d let me in here if this thing were real? Psssshhh.”
Tony, wiped his brow. “Whew. Great. And thank you, officer, for being available today as well.” Camera 1 did a quick cut of the officer sitting on a stool behind the villain, capturing his curt nod and a bright glare from his shaved head.
“Well, Doctor, you are aware that Greyscale is claiming that you kidnapped his son. Why would you kidnap an innocent boy and drag him into your fight?”
“As most of you know, I have two passions,” said Chromatic. “Science and music. Science is a means to an end in most cases for me.”
“Like when you blew up a quarter of the city,” butted in Greyscale.
Tony held up a hand to Greyscale, and Dr. Chromatic continued. “I got bored playing music by myself, and I wanted a new scientific challenge. So I decided to borrow some of Greyscale’s DNA to make my first new band member.”
A boo escaped the crowd.
“My protege is the product of experimentation that I created in a lab while trying to clone my arch nemesis. I consider the experiment a success. I would also like to point out that ever since Greyscale was beaten by Haymaker, he’s displayed a pattern of delusion, bordering on schizophrenia. I think he made this whole Pitfall character up.”
Tony turned to the hero. “Greyscale,” said Tony, “May I call you Grey?”
“Sure,” said Greyscale.
“Grey, do you have any proof that you have a son? Maybe a birth certificate or something else along those lines. Until today, no one even knew you had taken a sidekick under your wing, let alone that you had a son.”
Greyscale’s white-out eyes frowned under his domino mask. “It’s true. I wanted to wait to reveal to the city that I had a sidekick. I didn’t want my son feeling unnecessary pressure. It needed to be his choice. As for a birth certificate, I do have one, but if I were to produce it, it would reveal the real identity of my son.”
Dr. Chromatic countered. “If ‘Pitfall’ really is your beloved son, wouldn’t you do anything to get him back safe and sound?”
Greyscale puffed out his swollen chest. “Of course I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever.” He breathed the last word like a threat and Camera 2 made sure to catch a close up of his tightened square jaw.
Dr. Chromatic flashed his sharp teeth. “Then remove your mask and reveal to the world who you really are.”
“No!” barked Greyscale.
Squinting in thought, Tony asked, “But if Pitfall is really your son, isn’t revealing your identity worth it?”
Greyscale sighed. “If it came to that, if there was no other way to get my son back, then yes I would reveal my identity.”
“So why not do that? Why come on the show at all?”
“Because I don’t think it needs to go to that. I think I can prove it without giving up my mask and cape.”
Cantrell turned his attention to Dr. Chromatic, who sat with his chin pointed upward, his hipster glasses making his otherwise beady eyes the size of plums. He sat with one leg crossed and his hands were folded, resting on his knee. “Doctor,” said Cantrell, “Is this true? Have you kidnapped and brainwashed your nemesis’ sidekick and son as part of some evil plot?”
The Dr. smiled revealing his coffee-stained teeth. “No of course not. As you said, we had not even heard of this ‘Pitfall’ until today. I created this boy. His very existence is a miraculous accomplishment of science. But Greyscale can’t stand the fact that I have succeeded at anything. He has concocted this fictional account of a son which he can never prove is actually his.”
“Now just a minute,” said Greyscale.
Tony put his hand up. “Hold on, Grey. Doctor, if this is true, how can you prove that you created this boy? How do we know that you aren’t lying?”
“That is a good question, Cantrell. Unfortunately, the common man would not comprehend the full scope of my work, suffice it to say that during one of our many...encounters I was able to obtain a small sample of Greyscale’s blood. I brought it back to my secret lab and manipulated his DNA, making an imperfect clone of him to raise and nurture as my own son.”
“Do you think,” said Tony, turning to Greyscale, “that because Dr. Chromatic used your DNA in his experiment that it makes this boy your son?”
“No,” said Greyscale slamming his fist into the coffee table between them. “I don't think that because Pitfall is my son.”
“He is my creation. You must come out of your delusions Greyscale. Live in the real world. Accept that I have succeeded and move on.”
Veins popped out of Greyscale’s neck. He tried to get words past his tongue, but all that came out was spittle.
“And,” continued the doctor, “if he is your son, as you claim, then prove it. Remove your mask. Show us.”
“I don’t need to,” said Greyscale in a low voice. “You already know who I am Dr. Chromatic. Why don’t you tell the world? Hmm?”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“What I’m getting at is, if you really cloned me, then you would be able to figure out my true identity. And if you didn’t clone me, then that means that Pitfall is my son. Either way, you now know who I am. So why haven’t you revealed my identity to the world? This is your chance to blow my top. Unless you didn’t think that far ahead?”
Dr. Chromatic began fidgeting with the neck of his keytar.
“You didn’t think ahead, because you assumed you had me cornered. Your ego can only stand to see me publically humiliated. But you didn’t realize, either way, you screwed up. You planned this whole thing to get me to reveal myself without realizing that you backed yourself into a corner. I am Greyscale, and Pitfall is my son!”
Prompted, the crowd broke into standing applause.
Tony faced Camera 1 with his signature smile. “After the break, will a blood test be enough to tell the truth?”
“If you’re just joining us, this is the hour-long special where Greyscale and Dr. Chromatic have called a truce to hold an historic hash out, here on The Cantrell Show.” Light applause followed.
“Dr. Chromatic claims that he was finally able to create human life in the form of an imperfect clone of his arch nemesis, the self-appointed hero, Greyscale. But Grey claims that Dr. Chromatic did nothing of the sort. Instead, Grey says that Chromatic kidnapped and brainwashed his son into thinking that Dr. Chromatic is his creator and father. Greyscale argues that this is all a ruse to get him to reveal his secret identity.
“Now before we went to break,” said Tony, looking into the camera, “I promised that we would have the results of a blood test. But given the controversial nature of our conflict here today, it will be somewhat difficult to prove.” He turned to Greyscale. “Grey, you do realize that because the Dr. is claiming to have created the boy from a sample of your tissue, a blood test would really prove nothing. Obviously, this boy would have similar DNA. So how do you think you can prove that Pitfall is your son with a blood test?”
Camera 2 zoomed in on Greyscale’s pearl white smile, displayed for the first time since being on the show. “Well as you know Tony, before the show I agreed to have my wife come backstage as long as you kept her identity secret.”
Some of the crowd gasped and murmured amongst themselves.
Tony nodded, and Greyscal
e went on, “I realized that getting a blood test on myself would prove nothing. But comparing my wife's blood with Pitfall’s would prove without a doubt that Pitfall is my son.”
Cantrell turned to the Dr. “And Dr. Chromatic what do you think this test will prove?”
Dr. Chromatic hesitated for a millisecond. “It will prove nothing. How do we even know if the results are real if you’re not going to disclose to us who this woman really is?”
“A good point,” said Cantrell. “Let’s turn our attention to this mystery woman and hear her testimony.”
A large flat screen monitor mounted on the wall turned on. A woman could be seen from the waist up wearing a flower patterned blouse. Her face was blurred on the screen, and her voice has been altered. Somber piano music began to play softly.
“Hello. I am the wife of Greyscale, my loving husband. And the mother of…” she took a quivering breath, “...our little boy Pitfall.
“Last year when Greyscale finally decided to take on a sidekick I thought that he had an older teen in mind, maybe even a peer. I never thought he was going to train our son so early. But my boy was eager, and he already designed a costume, and his powers developed earlier than expected.” She held up a color crayon stick figure drawing to the camera. It depicted Greyscale and Pitfall as best as any nine-year-old could draw.
“We had a lot of arguments about it. I didn’t want to see my son harmed, but Greyscale promised me that he’d protect our son. And now…” she wiped her blurred eyes with a tissue, “...now my little Pitfall has been taken from me, and he doesn’t remember us anymore.” She broke down sobbing, and the screen faded out.
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