The Superhero's Powers (The Superhero's Son Book 4)

by Lucas Flint

  My parents were already standing near the weird plane, along with the rest of the Young Neos, plus someone I'd never seen before. He was a strong-looking guy whose age I couldn't guess due to the fact that his face looked … off. It was hard to describe, but his face didn't really look like it fit the rest of his body. It was almost like he had stolen someone else's face and was wearing it like a mask over his own. What made it look even weirder was how the rest of his body looked pretty normal, which made me wonder what his superpower was.

  As I walked up to the plane, I noticed that Dad, Mom, and the other Young Neos were standing away from the G-Men agent. Dad, who was wearing his full Genius costume, stood between Mom and the agent as if he didn't trust the guy. And, even though I didn't know who this particular agent was, I had to admit I didn't trust him much either, mostly because of his weird face.

  “Ah, Bolt,” said Dad, looking at me as I approached. “Glad you came here promptly.”

  “And you've packed all your things without having to be told, too,” said Mom, smiling at me. “I'm so proud of you.”

  I was determinedly not looking at the rest of my team— who I could hear giggling and snickering among themselves—when Mom said that, because I was pretty sure that Mom had singlehandedly destroyed whatever respect my team had for me as a leader with that one comment. I sometimes thought that Mom actually did have a superpower: The ability to embarrass me in front of other people at any moment.

  Regardless, I said, “Are we leaving right away, then?”

  “Of course not,” said the G-Men agent, rolling his eyes. “We're just going to be spending the next several minutes standing around awkwardly in the cold New York wind.” He shook his head. “Kids these days.”

  I looked at the G-Men agent in confusion. “Are you the pilot?”

  “Aye,” said the agent. He glared at the plane behind him. “Mostly because I'm the only one in the whole Department who knows how to fly the damn thing.”

  “What's your name?” I said. “Uh, I mean your superhero name, that is.”

  “I am the Uncanny Mimic,” said the agent. “But you can just call me 'Mimic' for short, if you can't remember my full superhero name.”

  Mimic's abrasive attitude rubbed me the wrong way, but I tried to speak to him politely anyway. “Mimic? Does that mean you can shape-shift or something?”

  Mimic sighed heavily, as if he was anticipating my next question. “Yes. I can change my face and body shape to look however I want. I am one of the best spies in the federal government as a result, and a fine pilot, as well.”

  “Can you shape-shift right now?” I said excitedly. “Like, give me a demonstration of your powers?”

  “Demonstrate my powers?” Mimic repeated. He turned his nose up at me. “Such disrespect! I am not some kind of sideshow attraction at a circus. I am a respected and experienced member of one of the most efficient superhero teams in the world. I will not demonstrate my powers just to amuse a teenager.”

  Dad made a weird noise— which sounded like a distorted snort through his helmet—when Mimic said 'efficient.' Mimic, however, must not have heard it, because he didn't look at Dad. He just stood with his hands on his hips, looking as offended as if I had just slapped his mother.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “It's just that I've never met a shape-shifter before and I always thought it was a cool power.”

  “Yes, we are a rarity in the superhero community, which is why I am so important,” said Mimic. “But I shall accept your apology, as it appears to be done in earnestness and I am not one to withhold forgiveness from those who apologize for offending me.”

  “Is that why you still haven't forgiven me for that time I punched you in the face?” said Dad.

  Mimic glared at Dad. “Because you have never apologized for it. And besides, it wasn't just a 'punch.' You hit me with your electrified gauntlets and I had to have facial surgery to put my face back together.”

  “What a waste of our tax money,” Dad commented. “After all, that surgery clearly didn't help you look good.”

  Mimic looked like he was about to start arguing with Dad, but then he closed his mouth and shook his head. “Ah, never mind. What's past is past. I have orders from Director Smith to make sure that you three get to the Compound quickly. Director Smith does not like lateness, so all three of you should get on board the hovercraft now.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But I want to say good bye to my teammates first. It'll take just a second.”

  “Fine,” said Mimic, though he sounded annoyed. “Just be quick about it. I do not want to be on this stupid Island any longer than I must.”

  I nodded and walked over to my teammates as Mom and Dad climbed up the ramp into the hovercraft itself. I stopped in front of my teammates and looked at each of them.

  “Guys, I don't know how long I'm going to be away or when I'll get back,” I said. “I don't even know if I'll get my powers back. This might be the last time I ever see any of you, at least here on Hero Island.”

  “We understand, Bolt,” said Stinger. “We're going to do everything in our power to find and beat Robert while you’re away. Maybe we'll even figure out how to get your powers back.”

  “Thanks for the thoughts,” I said. “You guys just stay safe while I'm away, okay? Robert is dangerous. He's got a ton of powers and is probably looking for more. I don't want to return here only to discover that he's stolen your guys' powers. Or worse, have killed you to get them.”

  I looked at Blizzard, who hadn't said anything yet but seemed like she wanted to, though I was really looking at her because she was the second strongest after me in the team. “Especially you, Blizzard. I don't want to know what Robert would do if he had your powers.”

  Blizzard nodded, but seemed like she wanted to say something to me. I didn't really know what, though, so I said, “Blizzard, do you have something to say to me?”

  Then Blizzard did something I didn't expect: She actually hugged me. It was a very brief hug, probably no longer than a second or two, but it took me by surprise anyway. In fact, it was so brief that I wasn't even sure it had actually happened or if I had imagined it before Blizzard said, “Good luck, Bolt, and stay safe.”

  I could still feel Blizzard's cold hands on my body, but I said, stuttering just slightly, “Uh, sure, thanks.”

  Then I heard an impatient sigh and looked over my shoulder to see Mimic standing there, his arms folded over his chest and his foot tapping against the platform. He even glanced at his watch, which told me that I needed to go fast.

  So I just said a final goodbye to the rest of the team (lingering just slightly on Blizzard, but only because her hug was still fresh in my mind) and then turned and walked over to the hovercraft.

  Passing Mimic, I heard him mutter under his breath, “Teenagers …” in a dismissive, contemptuous voice.

  Chapter Six

  The interior of the hovercraft was quite roomy, with seating for about ten people, though today it was just me, my parents, and Mimic. Mimic made his way to the controls at the front, still muttering about something to do with stupid teenage crushes or something. I didn't really pay attention because I was looking around at the hovercraft's interior.

  It was different from the Neocopter or the plane that the New Heroes used to travel around the country. For one, like I said, it was fairly roomy, but the seats were arranged almost like thrones, sitting at various sizes that didn't make much sense to me. Weird, technicolor lights blinked across the trim and ceiling and it had the distinct feeling of having been re-purposed from another type of vehicle. The ceiling was kind of low, too, and I noticed a bunch of panels along the walls that might have hid robotic limbs behind them or something.

  Mom and Dad were already seated in two of the seats, so I made my way over to the seat next to Dad. Sitting down in the chair, I noticed that its stuffing was very bouncy and springy, almost like jello. It didn't really feel like any substance I was familiar with, nor did it feel particularly saf
e, at least until I pulled the straps down across my chest and strapped myself in.

  As soon as I did that, a robotic hand came down from the ceiling, grabbed my bag (which contained all my belongings), and went back up into the ceiling before I could even stop it.

  “Hey!” I said, looking up at the panel that covered the hole that the sneaky hand had taken my bag came from. “This plane just stole my bag!”

  “It didn't steal your bag, Bolt,” said Dad. He looked completely unfazed by the ship's strange design, unlike Mom, who looked just as uncomfortable as me. “It merely took your bag so that you would not have to hold onto it for the duration of the flight. It took our things, too, and will return them to us when we reach the Compound in a few hours.”

  I looked at Dad and frowned. “How do you know that? Have you been on a plane like this before?”

  “It isn't a plane,” said Dad, “but yes, I've been on this type of vehicle before, though it was only once and under very different circumstances.”

  As Mimic took his seat at the controls in the front, I said, “If this isn't a plane, then what is it? I've never seen anything like it before.”

  “Of course you haven't,” came Mimic's impatient voice from the front of the vehicle. “The government has made sure that no one has gotten an especially good look at this vehicle, which is technically a prototype, though if it fell into the wrong hands, it would certainly be a potent weapon in its own right.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “What he means, Bolt, is that this is a very unique vehicle,” said Dad as Mimic started to press buttons and tap on touch screens. “Unlike most vehicles, this one is of extraterrestrial origin.”

  “You mean its from space?” I said. I immediately looked around eagerly. “Where are the aliens?”

  “Dead,” said Dad flatly. “Killed by the NHA, INJ, and G-Men fifteen years ago or so.”

  “Wait, are you referring to the Pokacu?” I said. I looked at Dad as understanding dawned on me. “Is this a Pokacu ship?”

  “Yes,” said Dad, nodding as the ship started to hum, like it was about to take off. He patted the armrest of the chair he sat in. “The only ship to survive the Pokacu invasion, though I can see that the government has obviously made some adjustments to it over the years to make it more habitable for humans.”

  “But of course,” said Mimic, though without looking at us. “I made many of the adjustments myself, but I have still been unable to replace the controls with controls that are a bit more … human-friendly, to put it lightly.”

  “Why does the government have a Pokacu spaceship?” I said.

  “Because they got their hands on it before we could,” said Dad. He sounded annoyed. “And before, of course, I could get a chance to analyze it myself.”

  “Finders keepers, Genius,” said Mimic, his tone smug. He glanced around his chair to smirk at us. “You were just too slow to get it, even though you were on board it when it crashed.”

  “You were?” I said, looking at Dad in amazement. “But I thought you had retired from superheroics before the invasion.”

  “I briefly returned to superheroics to help fight off the invasion,” said Dad. “And yes, I was on this ship, trying to keep it from destroying New York City. Mimic was on it, too, and I punched him in the face because, if I recall correctly, he was under the control of the Pokacus' mind control serum at the time. It wore off eventually, however, so you don’t have to worry about Mimic being a secret Pokacu mole or anything like that.”

  I noticed that Mimic didn't have anything to say about that. He just grunted and focused on the controls, which looked pretty complicated from what I could see of them.

  “Nonetheless, it was a successful mission,” said Dad, “though it's been years since I last saw this ship. I knew the government had gotten their hands on it, but I haven't seen it since then. Where have you been keeping it, Mimic? Area Fifty-One?”

  “None of your business,” said Mimic. “The location of the Spinner is top secret.”

  “So how long will it take for us to get to the Compound?” I said.

  “Three hours, assuming we do not run into any obstacles on the way there,” said Mimic. “And no, do not make any smart alecky comments about whether we have an in-flight movie or peanuts, because we do not.”

  “Really?” I said. “This is going to be one boring ride, then.”

  “It isn't meant to be exciting,” said Mimic. “In fact, 'exciting' is the absolute last thing you should want from this mission. We are only to go to the Compound and nothing else.”

  I nodded, but then a horrible thought occurred to me. “If we're going to be flying, how will we evade Robert, if he comes after us? He took my powers and that includes my power of flight. He could catch up with us and knock us out of the sky if he wanted.”

  “Firstly, Robert Candle does not know that we are transporting you and your family to safety,” said Mimic in a matter of fact tone. “So even if he wanted to catch us, he couldn't. And secondly, the Spinner has a cloaking ability that allows it to turn invisible to the naked eye and most radar systems. Even if Candle is flying around the sky searching for us, he would not be able to find us unless he flew smack dab into the ship itself.”

  “Oh, that's good to hear,” I said, but Mimic apparently wasn't done talking.

  “And furthermore, even if by some cruel twist of fate he found the ship, the Spinner has a unique mixture of Pokacu and Earth weapons and defenses that would knock him out of the sky before he even knew what happened,” Mimic continued. “Missiles, lasers, electrical force fields, and a variety of other defenses would make any exterior assault on the ship nigh impossible for most neoheroes. Even Omega Man himself would have a tough time taking this baby down if he tried to attack us.”

  “So what, exactly, does the Spinner have?” I said.

  “That is top secret,” said Mimic, “but trust me when I say that you will be quite happy to be a passenger inside it if we find ourselves under attack by Candle or one of the Visionists.”

  Mimic sounded very confident in the Spinner's abilities, which made me feel safe, but Dad said, “If I recall correctly, didn't Omega Man destroy the most Pokacu ships during the invasion?”

  “Yes, but that was before we improved ours,” said Mimic. “Anyway, enough talking. We are about to take off, so hold on tight.”

  Suddenly, the Spinner shook and shivered around us. Mom and I grabbed our straps tighter, while Dad looked as cool and unconcerned as always.

  Then, slowly but surely, the Spinner started rising up into the air. There weren't any windows for me to look out of, so I could not see much, except for the small view of New York City that the front windshield provided, although even that was covered with a projection of a bunch of writing and numbers and lines that made no sense to me but which did not seem to confuse Mimic in the slightest.

  Then Mimic pressed a few buttons and the ship took off to the east, heading toward the Atlantic Ocean.

  -

  I got bored pretty quick. While it was pretty cool flying in a re-purposed alien spaceship to a secret government facility, it was only cool for maybe the first ten minutes of the flight. Then I started to find the engine noises, wind turbulence, and Mimic's mutterings about stupid teenagers annoying and boring.

  Unfortunately, there wasn't much to do on the ship. Mimic insisted that all passengers remain in their seats until we got to the Compound (which was apparently somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean; either that or Mimic was just going to drop us into the Ocean and let us swim back to America), so I had to stay in my seat. Mom and Dad took this time to rest, so I couldn't even talk with them. And Mimic certainly wasn't in any mood to talk; he was focused on the controls and the maps (which was what I figured the lines, words, and numbers on the windshield were) in front of him. That was good, obviously, because as the pilot he had to focus on that stuff so he wouldn't crash us into the Ocean, which would kind of defeat the whole purpose of
the Relocation Program.

  But that left me with practically nothing to do. I tried to watch something on my watch, which had Internet connectivity, but unfortunately there seemed to be some kind of interference because I couldn't get any connection in here at all. Either we were flying through a part of the world that had no Internet connectivity or there was something on the ship blocking all Internet signals in and out of the ship.

  So I did what any bored teenager in my situation would do: Ask Mimic if we were there yet.

  “Are we there yet?” I said.

  “No,” said Mimic, without looking at me. “We are not.”

  “When will we get there?” I said.

  “Two hours,” said Mimic. “Longer if you keep asking me stupid questions.”

  That shut me up. I just reclined in my seat and decided to try to catch up on my sleep, but the problem was that I wasn't very tired and couldn't even sleep if I tried. The seat wasn't very comfortable anyway and the Spinner kept shaking every now and then. Despite being an allegedly high-tech alien spaceship, it was easily the bumpiest vehicle I had ever had the displeasure of riding. I wondered if that was because it was always like that or if this was the result of whatever adjustments that the G-Men made to it.

  I wondered what everyone else was doing. I hoped that Malcolm was okay; I doubted Robert would go after him again, especially if Malcolm's family had protection, but given how crazy Robert was, I wouldn't put it past him to try again. And I worried about the rest of the Young Neos, too, because if I couldn't beat Robert, I doubted any of them could, either.

  It made me wonder where Robert was right now anyway. Despite Mimic's assurances that we would be safe, I couldn't help but worry that we were actually very vulnerable. Every shake, every jerk of the Spinner made me wonder if that was Robert landing on its exterior or using one of his many stolen powers to attack it.