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

by Lucas Flint

  But the question that most haunted me during the week was this: Would I ever get my powers back?

  According to Dad, the answer was probably no. I asked him if the Pokacu maybe had some kind of gas that could turn powers back on, but Dad told me that they didn't. He said that there was no known way to restore superpowers to a superhuman who lost them, not in the least because this was the very first time it had ever happened to anyone in recent memory.

  I wondered whether killing Robert would restore my powers. Like maybe, if I killed him, my powers would fly out of his body and return to mine where they belonged. Of course, that was a pretty silly thought, based more in wishful thinking than anything, but I still wondered if there might be some truth to it anyway.

  Because if there wasn't … then even if the G-Men killed Robert, I would no longer be a superhero anymore. I'd have to go back to being a normal human. I mean, I could do that, since I'd spent most of my life without powers, but I didn't want to. I didn't think it would even be possible for me to fully return to normal life, because I'd always remember how it felt to fly through the sky or punch a hole in a stone wall with my fist or run faster than most people can think.

  Mom and Dad seemed to be taking the confinement better than me. Mom spent a lot of time either cooking or in the library, which was also where Dad happened to spend a lot of time reading books. I knew they were both just as worried as me about Robert's threat, but they probably weren't as concerned about the fact that I might never get my powers again even if we beat Robert. They wanted me to live a normal life, after all, so they might actually see my power loss as a silver lining of this whole ordeal.

  But it wasn't. At least I didn't think it was. I hated the idea of having to go back to normal life. I was going to figure out how to get my powers back no matter what.

  But I didn't know where to start. I tried checking out some of the books in the library on neurology and neogenetics, because I figured they might be able to help me understand which part of the brain I could change to get my powers back, but they were big, long, densely-written books that might as well have been written in Pokacu for all the sense they made to me, so I just as often put them back on the shelves after giving up. And without Internet access down here, I couldn't just go online and search for videos or anything that might have helped explain the stuff to me better.

  In fact, I was just about to give up entirely on figuring out how to use science to fix my brain when I suddenly remembered someone who could help. It was kind of a long shot, since I was pretty sure that she wasn't that much more knowledgeable about this subject than me, but I was determined to call her when I was given my next chance to make a phone call by the Compound people.

  So at the end of the week, rather than call up Mecha Knight, I dialed the phone number of Tara Reynolds, one of my best friends in the world. As I waited for her to pick up, I remembered how Tara had told me not long ago that she was going to study neogenetics in college and how she intended to use that knowledge to figure out how to 'turn off' the powers of superhumans for those who didn’t want to have them anymore. I hadn't been exactly thrilled with that idea at the time, but now I wondered if maybe Tara was onto something. Maybe she knew of a theory or method that could restore superpowers. It was worth a shot.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, Tara answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Tara,” I said, keeping my voice as friendly as possible. “How are you? It's me, Kevin.”

  “Kevin?” said Tara in surprise. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Um, yes,” I said, taken aback by her sudden interest in my health. “Why wouldn't I be okay?”

  “Because I heard that Robert Candle is looking for you,” said Tara. “Malcolm told me. He said that you and your parents had to go into hiding because Robert is trying to kill you. Is that true?”

  I had forgotten that Malcolm and Tara probably talked a lot behind my back, so I was temporarily at a loss for words. “Um, well, yeah, that's the truth. The G-Men took me and my parents into hiding because, er, Robert developed powers of his own and is trying to use them to kill me.”

  That was the truth. Tara didn't know I was a superhero (or had been one, anyway) and I didn't see any reason for her to know it yet. And I hadn't lied to her; after all, my parents and I were in hiding from Robert, who really had developed superpowers and really was trying to kill us.

  “Wow,” said Tara. “That is crazy. Why does Robert want to kill you? I know he hates your guts and he's a big bully and all, but even I never thought he'd try to murder you outright.”

  “I know,” I said. “All that power, you know, it's going to his head, makes him crazy. He can actually steal superpowers from other superhumans. Weird, huh?”

  “He can?” said Tara. “I heard the rumors, but I didn't think that was true. That makes him more dangerous than most superhumans.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But don't worry about me or my parents. We're perfectly safe here in this place. I can't tell you where we are exactly for security reasons, but we're as safe as can be, so I doubt Robert will ever get us.”

  “Good to hear,” said Tara. “I hope they catch him soon, though. I don't even want to know what Robert will do with his new found powers. Knowing him, I bet he's going to get some kid's lunch money or something.”

  I wished that was all Robert was planning to do, but I said aloud, “He can be pretty petty sometimes, sure. But I figure the G-Men or NHA will catch him soon. They're looking for him everywhere, so he can't hide forever.”

  “I hope so,” said Tara.

  Sensing an opportunity to change the subject, I said, “So, er, Tara, are you still going to college to study neogenetics and neurology?”

  “Yes!” said Tara, her sudden giddiness a sharp contrast to her earlier worry. “I can't wait. I'm going to visit the campus this weekend and—”

  “That's great,” I interrupted. “But what kind of studying are you doing beforehand? Like, have you been reading any books or taking any courses on neogenetics, for example?”

  “Sure,” said Tara. “I've had an interest in it even before the school accepted me, so I've already read up on it a lot. But going to this school will open entirely new doorways for me and help me learn and understand neogenetics in a whole new way. Why do you ask?”

  I bit my lower lip. I'd have to think carefully about what I wanted to say, because I didn't want Tara to suspect that I was a superhuman or what my actual goals were.

  So, leaning against the wall, I said, “Oh, er, I've taken a minor interest in neogenetics myself, since I'm a superhuman fan and all.”

  “You have?” said Tara. “That's great! What do you think about the theory of neoneurology?”

  “Theory of what?” I said.

  “Neoneurology,” Tara repeated. “It's a theory that superhuman brains are the next stage in human evolution. Haven't you heard of it before?”

  “Um …” I bit my lower lip again. “Sure, yeah. It's very fascinating. And scientific.”

  “I know,” said Tara. “Personally I'm not so sure about it, but Professor Harris—”

  “Tara, can I ask you a hypothetical question?” I interrupted when I noticed that I only had ten more minutes to talk with her. “About neogenetics?”

  “Sure,” said Tara. “What is it?”

  “Let's say there's a guy I know, a guy who happens to be a neohero,” I said. “I mean, hypothetically, of course.”

  “Right,” said Tara. “Please continue.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “So let's say I have a friend who lost his superpowers. Let's say Robert stole them, hypothetically speaking. What would my friend have to do, hypothetically, to get his powers back? Is there anything he can do to fix his brain? Maybe someone he can go to who could help him out?”

  “Hmm …” Tara trailed off. “I really don't know anyone who could fix that. Especially if Robert stole them, since no one really knows how his powers work yet. That's the k
ind of advanced neogenetics that no one really understands just yet.”

  “So you're saying that my friend is screwed, then,” I said, feeling my spirits fall.

  “Not necessarily,” said Tara. “There is someone who might be able to help him.”

  I perked up. “Who? Do you know him?”

  “No, but I've read some of his books and corresponded with him through email,” said Tara. “His name is Professor Nathaniel Hernandez. He is the professor of neogenetics at the University of Fallsville and is considered the foremost expert on neogenetics.”

  “Really?” I said. “I've never heard of this guy before.”

  “He doesn't like going out and meeting people or making public appearances, so that's probably why,” said Tara. “But he's absolutely brilliant, easily the most intelligent and knowledgeable person about neogenetics in the world.”

  “Interesting,” I said. “Has he made any major discoveries that might, say, help my friend who is in this hypothetical situation that’s really hypothetical?”

  “I don't know, but it's possible,” said Tara. “He's been studying neogenetics for decades, even before it became an officially recognized field of science. He might be able to help your friend, because he has some interesting theories about how the brains of superhumans work and what might be the cause of their powers.”

  “Very interesting,” I said. “So how would my friend contact him to discuss this issue? Hypothetically, of course.”

  “Well, I've got his email address and phone number if you want,” said Tara. “I can give it to you so you can give it to your friend.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Just give them to me and I'll write them down on my phone.”

  Tara spoke his email address and phone number over the phone, which I tapped into my smartphone while she spoke. When I got them down, I said to Tara, “Thanks, Tara. I'll make sure that my friend gets this so he can contact Professor Hernandez himself.”

  “Okay,” said Tara. “But is your friend sure that he wants to get his powers back?”

  “Well, why should he want to give them up forever?” I said. “If there's even a slight chance that my friend can get his powers back, shouldn't he take it?”

  “Not necessarily,” said Tara. “The life of a superhuman, after all, isn't an easy one. Maybe it would be better for your friend if he just moved on and tried to live a normal life. I don't know much about your friend, but I don't think it would be healthy for him to obsess over something he may never be able to get back. It'd be kind of pathetic, actually.”

  Tara's words stung me like a wasp, but I said, in a calm voice, “Thanks for the concern, Tara, but I'm sure that my friend will be okay. He knows what he wants and he'll do anything to get it. His powers are just as much a part of him as his eye color or hair color, though a lot more important, obviously.”

  “I know, but your friend might just get disappointed, because even Professor Hernandez might not be able to help him,” said Tara. “If your friend can't get his powers back, do you think he'll just give up and try to live a normal life or not?”

  I had to admit that I had never thought about that. The question left me silent for a few seconds as I thought about what I would do if I could never get my powers back.

  Finally, I said, “I don't know, Tara. I'll try to help him however I can if that turns out to be the case, but I don't know if my friend has any plans for what might happen if his powers are well and truly gone.”

  “Okay,” said Tara. “I mean, I guess I don't really know your friend, but I think it would be better if he moved on. He can live a happy life without powers, after all, maybe a much happier one than most superheroes lead.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said. “Anyway, Tara, looks like I have to go. Thanks for the information, by the way. I'll make sure my friend gets Professor Hernandez's contact information as soon as possible.”

  “Okay,” said Tara. “Please be safe, Kevin, you and your parents. I hope the G-Men stop Robert soon.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Bye.”

  With that, I hung up, placing the phone back on the receiver, but I didn't leave right away. I found Tara's concern for my friend (really me) to be kind of touching, even if it was unnecessary.

  Still, even as I turned away and walked past the guard who had been watching me, I couldn't help but think about what Tara said about obsessing over things you couldn't have. A part of me wondered how I would react if my meeting with Professor Hernandez didn't pan out, assuming Hernandez even wanted to talk with me. If I was doomed to a life of powerlessness and normality, would I really be able to move on or would I just obsess about it forever?

  I didn't know the answer to that question.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You can't leave the Compound to meet Professor Hernandez,” said Renaissance, staring down at me with a cool, indifferent expression that I had come to associate with him.

  I stood in front of Renaissance in the suite where my parents and I stayed. Mom was somewhere in the library, catching up on some reading she had missed when we fled our home, while Dad was in his room tinkering with something. Even so, I bet Dad was listening in our conversation through my earcom, which was connected to his, although he was apparently leaving me to talk with Renaissance by myself.

  It was the day after I had spoken with Tara and I had called Professor Hernandez to find out if he wanted to meet with me. I had managed to get his assistant, a peppy-sounding twenty-something girl named Alicia who said she'd be happy to schedule a meeting with the professor for sometime this week. According to her, Professor Hernandez had been following the news of Robert Candle's power thefts very closely and had been interested in meeting a victim of Robert's thefts for a while now. I had managed to arrange the meeting for today, without clearing it with Renaissance, because I assumed that Renaissance would be okay with me leaving the Compound to meet the one guy who might be able to restore my powers and perhaps the powers of the other surviving victims of Robert as well.

  But instead, Renaissance was as unmoved as a brick wall. With his arms folded behind his back and his suit oh so perfect, I was starting to understand why Malcolm didn't like him that much.

  “What?” I said. “Why? Professor Hernandez might be the only person in the world who can help me get my powers back. You're a fellow superhuman. You understand, don't you?”

  “I understand that losing your powers is highly traumatic, but Director Smith was very clear when he said that Guests in the Compound are not supposed to leave until the threat to the Guests has been nullified,” said Renaissance. “Because Robert Candle is still very much active in the outside world, you and your parents must remain here. You cannot go out and meet anyone, not even friendly people like Professor Hernandez.”

  “But Robert won't be able to find me,” I said. “You guys could just sneak me into the University of Fallsville without anyone even noticing. Then, when we're done, we can go back to the Compound here and never have to leave it again until Robert is defeated.”

  “Too risky,” said Renaissance. “Robert Candle has already displayed the ability to locate you without anyone telling him where you are. If we let you leave, then he might track you down to that school and kill you, thus rendering all our work to protect you useless.”

  “Then send me with bodyguards,” I said. “Diver and Mimic are still around, aren't they?”

  “Mimic left yesterday to return to Washington on a special mission from the Director,” said Renaissance, “while Diver, like myself, has been assigned to this facility and cannot simply go off and play bodyguard with you while you travel back to the States to talk with a professor who may or may not know how to help you.”

  “Then bring Professor Hernandez here,” I said. “He can come here and talk to me in person.”

  “Only authorized government officials and agents are allowed inside the Compound,” said Renaissance. “Because Professor Hernandez is not an authorized government official or agent, I could not br
ing him here even if he agreed to travel here.”

  My hands balled into fists, but I couldn't think of a good counterargument, because it seemed like Renaissance had a good objection for each and every one. “But I need my powers. If there is even the remotest chance I could get my powers back, I might be able to help find and defeat Robert.”

  “That is not your job,” said Renaissance. “Besides, Robert has already stolen your powers once. Has it ever occurred to you that he might be able to steal them again?”

  “He probably can't, considering he's already stolen them once,” I said. “But even if he could, it wouldn't just benefit me if I went to Professor Hernandez and spoke to him about my problem. It would benefit the entire superhero community.”

  Renaissance raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “Well, Robert's stolen other peoples' powers already, so we could use the Professor's knowledge to help Robert’s other still surviving victims, too, assuming it works,” I said. “Don't you want to help your fellow superhumans?”

  Renaissance shook his head. “Not if that means going against my clear and well-defined duties. The Director would kill me if I let you leave the Compound for any reason.”

  “But you could just come back to life if Cadmus killed you,” I said.

  Renaissance looked at me like I was being intentionally stupid. “Regardless, the fact is that rules are rules, and the number one rule of the Compound is that the Guest or Guests cannot leave the Compound until the threat to their lives is neutralized or we receive orders from Director Smith or the President himself to let you out. Until and if Director Smith or President Plutarch give me orders to let you go, you and your parents will stay right where you are.”

  “But I already scheduled a meeting with Professor Hernandez for later this week,” I said. “I'll miss it if you don't let me go.”

  “Too bad,” said Renaissance. “It's your fault for scheduling a meeting ahead of time that you couldn't guarantee you would actually be able to attend. You will simply have to miss it.”