PART TWO: SUPERTEAM
Chapter 7: THE CALL
“Lindsey, you’re sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Sure, I used to take meditation classes along with my yoga.”
“That certainly fills me with confidence. Let the out-of-body experience begin!”
“Shut up, Cal! I’m trying to read this e-book!”
They sat on a yoga mat in the middle of Lindsey’s living room floor. The furniture had been moved away and crowded up in the corners. Both of them wore old t-shirts and stretchy yoga pants. Incense burned. Tony Scott’s haunting Music for Zen Meditation played on the stereo. Though the curtains were drawn, cars plowed noisily by outside, often interrupting a gang of kids playing street hockey.
Hyperman had finished up his odyssey of good deeds with the Whorl a few days ago when they’d both needed to head back to their civilian lives. Still, the experience had left Hyperman invigorated. The people he’d encountered had real problems that had dwarfed his own. Hunger, disease, homelessness, and even lack of transportation to get medicine, food, or work; it was always something major plaguing their lives. It’d uplifted his spirits to be able to help. Now he was getting to spend the afternoon with Lindsey and that had made his mood even better.
Having had a stressful workweek full of writing deadlines, she needed to unwind. Instead of getting a drink, she’d talked him into trying this out-of-body meditation exercise. It supposedly put someone completely at ease, both in body and soul.
Hyperman considered all that kind of talk nonsense. He knew all sorts of mystics who could leave their bodies, but it was never an easy feat, and many predators lurked about the astral plane, looking for an easy meal. While he doubted Lindsey possessed the willpower to actually leave her body, he went along with it. All this New Age garbage seemed to relax her, even if it was only trippy music and funky-smelling candles.
However, he’d made sure to avoid the topic of superheroes with her as much as possible. He had ever since their one awkward conversation. Bringing it up would just make things tense between them, so he simply changed the subject if he ever thought it was about to come up. Maybe when Night dug up what he could on Lindsey, Hyperman could understand her a little better. Until then, he saw no point in drawing out the argument.
Lindsey stretched out her legs and lay on her side while clicking through the meditation manual e-book on her laptop. Even without makeup, Hyperman thought she positively shone with beauty.
“Okay,” she said, sitting up, closing her laptop and sliding it away. “Sit like this.”
She hiked up her legs and crossed them Indian-style before resting an open palm across each knee. Hyperman mimicked her.
“Close your eyes and breathe,” she said softly. “In and out. In and out. Become your breath and rise up out of yourself. So breathe! Picture a peaceful place. It’s calm, serene, and lovely. Imagine yourself floating up to it. To your own personal heaven! Let go and float up to heaven! Breathe and escape into the air! Take flight! Higher and higher!”
Hyperman matched his breathing precisely to hers, imitating her technique perfectly, holding in a gasp of air and expelling it out at a rhythmic pace. He let the warmth of relaxation trickle up through his legs and rise higher and higher throughout his being with every breath he took. He pictured the majestic blue skies and celestial white clouds he frequently soared through. He could practically feel the nippy cold of the air and sensed the often-peaceful silence. He even imagined the vastness of a sky that seemed limitless.
His body loosened up, and he almost felt as if he were flying. It had always been the easiest, most natural thing in the world for him. He’d always equated flying with complete inner peace. It gave him the ultimate freedom of going anywhere at any time. To his surprise, he found himself floating a few inches off the floor, ready to drift up and away as if in a dream.
Wow! What did he know? Maybe there was something to this new age relaxation shit after all! He was ready to let go and see where it took him, but his hyper-senses got in the way.
He heard gunshots ringing out from all across the globe. Streams of wireless communications glided through the air and tickled him, informing him of all the robberies, murders, and disasters taking place right at that moment. Energies flowed from everything and everywhere, kissing and caressing his skin, attuning him to what was wrong in the web of life spread out across the planet.
He tried blotting it all out, but someone somewhere was always calling out for help. Normally, somebody else could pitch in there. Not every emergency required Hyperman, but he still had to be on the lookout, just in case he was needed. So he had to stay alert, even in this trance-like state that had him approaching tranquility. Completely entering that state of mind might distract and slow him though, maybe even for only a half second, but that was enough time for someone to suffer and die because he wasn’t there. So he couldn’t let go, not completely, not when it might be too costly.
He forced himself to awaken. His eyes slit open, and he groggily snapped back to reality. Blinking, he studied Lindsey and measured her pulse and heartbeat as she drifted off to a dreamy, faraway place.
“Ohhhhmmmmmm, ohhhhhhhhmmmmmmm,” she murmured.
His hyper-vision showed her eyes rapidly twitching behind their lids and electric signals flashing rapidly throughout her brain.
“Lindsey?” he asked.
“Ohhhmmmmmmm,” she replied.
He shook his head. She was apparently going to be out like that for a while.
At a silent hyper-speed, he knifed up into the kitchen to make Lindsey some chai tea and strawberry scones for when she awoke. He was setting the tray down on a small table in the living room when he heard an ultrasonic siren shrieking on a frequency for his ears only.
“Hey Hyperman, sorry to bother you,” an old, gravelly voice said, “but could you drop by the Quarry? We need to talk.”
The siren abruptly cut out.
Hyperman looked at Lindsey. She’d probably not even notice he’d left. He could fly to and from Mars in no time. He might even get back before she awoke. In fact, he’d even bring back ice cream. After grabbing a strawberry scone, he launched out the back door up into space.
***
Hyperman and Paul Wrath meandered down the prison corridor together. Thick, glossy red columns and sleek orange metal walls made up the decor, and it all flickered with cryptic little lights. Cells ran up and down the length of the corridor with swirling, static-shocking energy fields sealing the prisoners in. Passersby could look inside, but prisoners couldn’t see out. Unaware anyone was even strolling by, the inmates slept, read, played solitaire, or did push-ups in their cramped confines.
“The results showed faster than anyone thought,” Paul Wrath said, his parched voice echoing off of the walls. “He’s a new man. Literally, in fact.”
“He’s once again the man he was before Mutagen,” Hyperman replied.
“He doesn’t remember much about actually being Mutagen and some other parts of his life before that.”
“What small bits does he remember?”
“Well, he says he and Mors used to be friends before he was Mutagen.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I’ll let you hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Wrath limped on, dragging one leg slightly behind the other. He wore a ragged, dirty-gray suit with a matching trench coat. A large, puckered-pink scar gouged across his throat. Wily, cloudy-white hair whipped about his shriveled head. His body had not only thickened and hardened with age, but a paunchy gut hung out over his belt. John Wrath wasn’t his real name. Not even Nightshadow had ever managed to uncover what it was, but he had learned why Wrath hadn’t seemed to age for years and years, and he shared the story with the Invincibles.
Back during the American Revolution, Wrath had been a spy for George Washington’s Culper Ring. One mission saw him keeping the redcoats from exploiting Ponce de Leon’s fountain of youth. Upon seeing the be
autiful, sparkling water, he hadn’t been able to resist a taste. The drink had retarded his aging and only now was his body catching up with time. He’d spent his long, long life working as a spy. In his time, he’d spied on and for everyone. His decades and decades of shadow ops experience had made him the ideal choice for director of S.I.L.E.N.T. when it was founded after World War II.
He led Hyperman over to a small corner cell. “Here he is,” Wrath said, and jabbed his thumb toward the shadowed figure reading a book on his bed in a cell at the end. Hyperman saw the book was about building little model ships.
Wrath smirked, and it wrinkled his face even further. “He’s all yours,” he said. “I’ve got a space pirate to interrogate, so take your time.”
His shaky, claw-like fingers tapped a code onto the control panel built into the wall. The energy field for Mutagen’s cell flicker-flashed and became transparent. Mutagen looked up and marked his place in his book. He came toward the door and did a double take at seeing Hyperman.
Like all prisoners, Mutagen wore a baggy, powder blue jumpsuit over his stocky, big-boned frame. The light gleamed off his bald head. Scars and scratches etched across every inch of his flaky, dark brown skin. His bulbous, hazel-brown eyes twitched, and a big nose squashed down in the middle of his face.
Hyperman had always wondered what Mutagen had looked like before becoming a monstrosity. He hadn’t expected him to be anything like this. He’d imagined him to be a cutthroat, addict, drunk, or just a grizzled, hateful man looking to lash out at the world. He had never thought that Mutagen could have been just a plain, simple, respectful man.
“Good to see you, Director Wrath,” Mutagen said.
“You too, Rogelio,” Wrath replied with a nod. “I’ll leave you two boys to talk.”
The old spy scuffled off, whistling “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
After exchanging an awkward glance with Mutagen, Hyperman bit his lip. A great bit of tension hung in the air. He wasn’t sure how to begin. “Hello,” he finally said.
Mutagen smiled. “Hello yourself.”
“You wanted to see me?”
“I wanted to thank you. You cured me! You made me human again! When I was…when I was that monster, I had this whole world of voices in my head, and I didn’t always know what I was thinking or feeling. It just got worse and worse, and I didn't know what was real or not or if I was really dead and dreaming or whatever. I didn’t know what I was doing or who I was hurting, but you stopped me all those times. I know I still did a lot of damage and hurt a lot of people and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it, but you kept me from doing so much worse! Thank you! With every fiber of my being, thank you! I’d shake your hand if I could, but this energy field’s in the way.”
Hyperman chuckled. “It’s in your way, not mine.”
He forced his hand through the energy field, feeling its hot, flaring particles nicking at his skin. Mutagen took his hand and gave it a voracious shake. The former villain’s hands felt cold and clammy. After pulling his hand back through the energy field, Hyperman wiped it on his pants leg when Mutagen blinked so he wouldn’t notice him doing that.
Hyperman unsteadily shifted about on his feet. Since he was now constantly tuned in to his followers’ prayers all over the Earth, hearing any type of praise made him uncomfortable. It coming from an old enemy of his, despite his current circumstances, caused Hyperman to view it as being at least somewhat suspicious. While his hyper-senses hadn’t picked up on anything odd, Hyperman had to remain vigilant, in case this was some kind of trap or set-up.
“I hear you’re in a rehabilitation program,” he said.
Mutagen nodded. “I’m seeing some doctors, and they’ve got me on a lot of meds. They put me through all these tests, but they’re nothing like the cure. Man, that hurt, let me tell you, especially with how big I was, not that it wasn’t worth it! They cut me open, jammed all these shots into me, and pumped me full of weird chemicals. Only then did I start going back down to my normal size. My head cleared up then too. The docs are still checking me out, but, once I get the okay, I’m going to help out here however I can. Cleaning labs, letting scientists study me, making speeches to scare teenagers straight, whatever they need.”
“That’s great,” Hyperman said. “I think you can really make a difference.”
“It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”
Hyperman nodded and took a breath. He hated the idea of having to question Mutagen, especially since he seemed like a newer and better person now, but he needed information.
“So I hear you were friends with Alexander Mors,” he said.
Sadly, Mutagen nodded. “I knew Alex for years,” he said, dumping himself back down onto his bed. “I used to work for him in accounting, but I wasn’t a big boss or anything. Still, he liked chatting everyone up when he was making his rounds, and we just hit it off. We both liked all these old, cheesy sci-fi movies with killer robots and giant mutated lizards and stuff. We couldn’t shut up about them. A lot of times, we’d stay up all night in his office, getting liquored up and talking about the world. He had a big vision of everyone getting super-powers and never getting old or sick, of basically everyone being like you.”
“Is that how he talked you into the Mutagen project?”
Mutagen shrugged. “He made it sound like this big adventure and that he needed someone he trusted doing it. Plus, he told me I’d have super-powers! Super-powers, man! Who’d turn that down? My memory starts getting blurry from that point on though. Back then, I was so sure Alex would take care of me no matter what. I thought I knew him! I thought we were friends! But…but I guess I was wrong.”
“He wiped away all records of your life,” Hyperman said. “It’s like you never existed. We only know who you are because of what you told us, and S.I.L.E.N.T. has mystics and telepaths who verified everything you said. Still, there’s no evidence there ever was a Mutagen project at MorsWorld either, or at least there’s nothing that’d hold up in court anyway. There’s nothing linking you back to Mors.”
Mutagen shook his head. “Well, I always knew Alex did some unsavory things, but I thought they were for the greater good, you know? He knows how to cover his tracks well, and I was all right with that because I thought the world needed him.”
“Did you?”
“Hey, don’t get me wrong! I hate what he did to me! But look at what he does for people. All the diseases he helps cure and those phones and trains he makes? He helps keep the world spinning, just like you do. Hell, he looks up to you! Prays to you and everything.”
Hyperman’s eyes widened. “Say that again.”
Mutagen smirked. “He’d hate for me to tell you this, but screw him! Alex thinks you’re a god or the messiah or something. He keeps it on the down low since being religious like that sometimes scares people, but he opened up to me. You’re his personal Jesus, man.”
“I am?”
“I know it’s really weird, but it’s true.”
Hyperman stared at him and grasped for words. His mind had trouble putting thoughts together. He wanted Mutagen to be lying, but his heartbeat and pulse said otherwise.
“You okay?” Mutagen asked.
“Of course,” Hyperman answered. “It’s just…that’s a lot to swallow.”
“Oh, I’m sure, especially given we’re taking about Alex Mors, but you’re Hyperman. I’d be more shocked if nobody worshipped you.”
***
In a small prison staff break room, Paul Wrath calmly made coffee as Hyperman glared at him from across the room. The guards in their segmented armor and doctors wearing long lab coats exchanged awkward glances and shifted nervously about in their seats. Hyperman stalked forward, and they all fled, taking their sandwiches, candy bars, and fruit drinks with them. The doors automatically slid shut behind them.
“You take sugar?” Wrath asked, holding up a cup of steaming, void-black coffee to Hyperman.
“No,” he grunted.
“
Suit yourself.”
Wrath dumped a spoonful of sugar into his own cup and stirred. After setting both coffees down onto a table, he took a seat. He leaned back, stretching and wincing, hearing his bones crack. “So you and Mutagen talked?” he asked.
Hyperman glowered at Wrath. “You knew about these cults, didn’t you?” he asked. “The ones that worship me! You’ve probably known about them for years!”
“It’s part of my job to know about things like that,” Wrath replied, taking a big gulp of coffee. “Got to watch the fringe groups and make sure they behave. You should have seen some of the Silver Seraph hate groups we’ve taken down. They thought that poor girl was the anti-Christ, just because she’s a space angel and not the biblical kind. They couldn’t fit what she is into their beliefs, and so they thought they had to kill her.”
“She never knew about them.”
“Nope. She’s too busy policing planets to worry about fools like that. I was glad to take care of it for her.”
“You didn’t tell her about it though! You didn’t tell me about any of this!”
“There’s a lot I don’t tell you. There’s a lot I’m not authorized to tell you, and there’s a lot you don’t need to know, especially about things that I should be taking care of and not you. I’m the one that gets down and dirty with the freaks while you take on the apocalypse and aliens and vampire gods and whatever else.”
“At least tell me you’re shutting all of these cults down, even the ones that worship other superheroes.”
“If and when they give me a reason to, I will.”
“Some Whorl worshippers tried to gun down a group of my people!”
“Right, but you took care of them. The local authorities then arrived and handled it from there. The crazies are now all locked up and can’t hurt anyone. They were extremists though. The rest of their group isn’t like them. In fact, most of these superhero worship groups don’t hurt anyone. I have no reason to go after law-abiding citizens, even if they have weird religious beliefs.”
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