Dark Hunter

by Andy Briggs

  Air Force One was sinking.

  Freezing water splashed over Jake’s head, instantly spurring him on. He jumped to his feet, his boots slipping on the soggy carpet.

  “Aw, no!” he cried. Things were getting rapidly out of hand.

  He jumped straight up, passing through the ceiling and out over the aircraft. The bird’s-eye view allowed him quickly to assess the situation. The front of the aircraft was just under the surface, issuing streams of bubbles. The tail was already twenty feet out of the water, still rubbing against the iceberg. As he watched, it cracked away, falling into the water with a mighty splash.

  Three full, yellow, hexagonal lifeboats bobbed away from the wreckage; the bodyguards frantically rowed to a fourth empty boat that was supposed to contain the president.

  Jake hovered above, and luckily nobody was paying him any attention. He couldn’t deal with an onslaught of bullets. He had to try something, something impossible.

  He closed his eyes and felt the superpowers charge through his system. Basilisk, Chameleon, and Mr. Grimm had all told him how special he was—and now was the time to prove it.

  Jake couldn’t explain how he knew which power to call up, but nevertheless he could feel his fingers pulse. The last time he had used telekinesis had been to push aside the security cameras at Diablo Island. Now he was attempting to lift more than three hundred tons of aircraft.

  Inside, the president and his staff had been thrown against a partition wall as water pooled around their feet. Behind them they could see only open sky where the tail used to be. The president was being manhandled toward the exit and was preparing to jump out when the aircraft rocked again, throwing everyone back to the floor. One unlucky bodyguard slipped from the gap in the tail and fell into the icy sea.

  Survivors in each raft watched in amazement as the blackened nose of Air Force One suddenly rose from the ocean and the plane leveled out, pulling away from the iceberg.

  Then they watched with open mouths as it gradually lifted into the sky, water pouring from every doorway. It rose thirty feet before they became aware of Jake hovering over it, both hands extended and intense concentration etched on his face. One bodyguard took aim with his gun, but his colleague pushed it aside, warning him that shooting the Super would probably cause the aircraft to belly flop back into the ocean.

  Jake felt charged with power, stronger than he had ever felt before.

  He looked down on the battered aircraft and hoped he could pull off his plan. He’d been told it was impossible—but he was willing to push himself to the limit.

  The crew in the lifeboats blinked—and Air Force One vanished in a massive boom. They blinked against the clear sky as the last drops of water fell from nothingness.

  The president and his secretary of defense had disappeared.

  * * *

  Mr. Grimm’s footsteps clicked on the polished black marble floor. He walked steadily along a corridor that led from one of the outlying islands to the central land mass. Windows in the arched walls offered views over the island network that would have been spectacular had the island not been smothered in thick mist.

  A heavily ornate door stood at the end of the corridor. There were eight such doors circling the chamber, each branded to suit the individual Council members from whose island they led. The door in front of Grimm was etched with curling snakes and spiders. It opened vertically with a whisper. Beyond, the Council chamber was bathed in red light. Despite himself, Grimm hesitated before entering.

  The Council of Evil’s meeting chamber was a vast dome-shaped room built in the caldera, or crater of an extinct volcano. It took a few seconds for Grimm’s eyes to adjust to the low light levels. Eight alcoves, bathed in shadows, sat on the perimeter of the chamber. They held thronelike seats for each of the Council members. One alcove was raised above the others, signifying the seat of the Council leader whose decision was, supposedly, final. Then again the position was supposed to be temporary. Henchmen, lackeys, and general administration servants took up the space between the recessed thrones; they formed the functional backbone of the Council of Evil. Mr. Grimm caught the eye of Ambassador Grutt, head of the Council’s uncivil service. The ambassador nodded slightly; he was one of the few people on the islands that Mr. Grimm respected.

  The center of the room was taken up by a huge opaque holographic image of the world slowly spinning on its axis. Various splashes of red indicated where villains were gaining territories as governments succumbed to their demands, and in some rare cases, fell completely. Yellow border lines were evenly spaced, marking the individual territories run by each of the Council members. It was in these territories that they would lobby and allow permits that enabled the villains to conduct whatever dastardly scheme they had cooked up. The permit system ensured that no single villain would be in competition with another. Of course, there were always those who did not play by the rules, such as Basilisk, and either the Council would deal with them, or the Hero Foundation would be anonymously tipped off to stop them.

  The chamber was overly warm, and Mr. Grimm had to brush away a single drop of sweat that had formed on his pale brow. The atmosphere in the room was oppressive. Malice charged the chamber and it gave Grimm the distinct impression that he had just walked into the hive of some diabolical insect.

  The door silently closed behind him, cutting out the last vestiges of daylight. Grimm took his position with the rest of the administration staff and waited.

  The image fizzled then disappeared. Clearly, he had just walked in on the end of a presentation. A plangent voice echoed through the chamber. It had such a melancholy quality that Grimm started feeling his will to live seeping away. It was the current Council leader, Necros.

  “Progress is excellent. But I still see that the more established countries are putting up resistance, thanks to the Foundation. That will soon end when the Hero Foundation falls. Already we have a threefold increase in our recruitment process worldwide. Children in particular are signing up to Villain.net in droves.”

  Grimm knew that without the necessary guidance, those new young villains, like their heroic counterparts, would be nothing more than cannon fodder. But that suited the Council’s needs perfectly, although on rare occasions talented stars were discovered.

  A deep voice spoke out. White lupine eyes gleamed from one alcove, made all the more alarming by the fact there were two pairs, one above the other. It was the bloodthirsty supervillain known as Fallout.

  “Basilisk continues to avoid our bounty hunters and yet you still find him valuable?”

  A sibilant voice came from the recess opposite. Mr. Grimm’s head did not move, but his eyes swiveled to identify the speaker. He saw only a bulbous green head lean forward, housing what he knew to be the terrifying intellect of Professor Mobius.

  “We have him to thank for bringing Hero.com off-line. He has brought together a merry little band of villains who have their own grudges against the Council. But he is proving to be quite successful in his efforts. If we allow him to proceed in toppling the Hero Foundation, then I foresee a great victory. Afterward we can punish him for the failed assassination attempt on us all.”

  “I do not trust him.”

  “Perhaps you fear him, Fallout?” An angry snarl answered that comment, and Mobius allowed himself a gruff chuckle. “Rest assured that we have Trojan watching him closely.”

  Another Council member sitting across from Grimm joined in. In the dim light he could just see a large head fanning out at the crown, and four crimson armor-clad muscular arms resting on the throne. The rest of the figure was cloaked in shadows that seemed to cling to him: Armageddon.

  “It is Viral I am concerned with. He is a threat to us all. He belongs on Diablo Island. Or better, dead. Worse still, I hear reports that Lord Eon escaped in the prison revolt after Hunter escaped and Basilisk broke in. If this proves to be true, everybody is in mortal danger, whichever side they are on!”

  Murmurs of agreement filled the chambe
r.

  Mobius raised his hand for silence. “I concur. However, Basilisk still has his part to play. Mr. Grimm, you will be inside the Hero Foundation when Basilisk arrives there?”

  “I will be.”

  “Good. Then you will aid him as much as necessary. Lower the exterior shields to ensure he has no problems on his arrival. Although I am sure that he will try to kill you.”

  Mr. Grimm gave a formal bow. “It shall be done.”

  A rapid bubbling noise, which turned into a high-pitched whistle like a kettle boiling, caught everybody’s attention. It came from close to Grimm. He turned to see that the alcove had been converted into what looked like, on first glance, a jacuzzi. Inside was a writhing mass of liquid that took a humanoid shape: Abyssal.

  “We seem to be forgetting the point of convening today. The boy … Hunter. Where is he?”

  All eyes turned to the raised seat where the spindly figure of Necros sat. Grimm could smell the stench from here and was thankful the chamber was so dark. Next to him he saw Chromosome lean forward with a calculating look on her face. Grimm knew that the look meant she was coveting Necros’s seat as Council leader.

  “Chromosome,” said Necros with a voice that reverberated with gloom. “You were tasked with tracking the boy down.”

  Chromosome stepped into the center of the chamber. She walked like a catwalk model and seemed entirely out of place—until the shadows on the floor shifted with faint arachnid forms.

  “So far the boy has been elusive. My research has shown it was probably a high-powered member of the Hero Foundation that aided his escape from Diablo Island and is now helping him stay hidden.”

  She took great delight in soaking up the sudden murmurs that circled the chamber. Mr. Grimm said nothing, but he knew it all to be lies. Most things Chromosome said were. He mused that this must be part of her plan to become Council leader.

  Necros stood. “If this is true, who was it? And why?”

  “It certainly seems like the Foundation has split views. Maybe a breakaway faction wishes to establish their own operations?”

  Further disinformation calculated to throw the Council off Hunter’s scent. Chromosome was smiling sweetly.

  “Then it must be a plan to overthrow both the Foundation and the Council!” cried Fallout, both fists simultaneously thumping his chair arms. “My spies have received reports that Hunter kidnapped the president!”

  More clamoring among the Council. Chromosome’s eyes met Grimm’s and she arched a perfect eyebrow; she obviously hadn’t yet heard how successful her plan had been. Mr. Grimm walked forward and composed himself by not making eye contact with anybody.

  “It is true. Hunter teleported Air Force One and the president from the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Gasps of astonishment filled the chamber. A voice to the left caught Grimm’s attention. It came from a huge fat man who could crush Grimm to death under his folds of flab if he fell on him. He was called Momentum.

  “He teleported the entire aircraft? That’s impossible!”

  Grimm opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he felt Chromosome’s hand on his shoulder. Several spiders crawled around his shins. Grimm tried not to pay attention to them.

  “Nevertheless,” purred Chromosome, “it appears he did it. Hunter is indeed more powerful than we thought. I shall increase my efforts to locate him.”

  “Perhaps you need assistance?” said a high voice that sounded as if the speaker was a prim schoolgirl. Chromosome’s face momentarily dropped when she heard it, and they all turned to the final Council member. She was Yohg-Shuggor, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Bringer of the Night, the Spawn of the Damned, Eater of the Dead, the Apocalypse Harbinger, and the Shaker of Worlds. But her close friends called her Amy. Her current earthbound form was that of a small girl of about thirteen, with flame-red hair and wearing a plaid skirt.

  Chromosome sucked in a deep breath, and the fake smile covered her face again. “Thank you for the offer, but my powers will be ample enough to track down the boy.”

  Chromosome met the girl’s searching gaze, and she was grateful to turn away when she heard Necros’s voice carry through the chamber like a lead weight.

  “You should focus all your time on this task, Chromosome. It is the most important of Council business.”

  Chromosome gave him a terse nod.

  “Then I shall see to it at once.”

  Grimm watched as Chromosome’s throne drifted across the floor to meet her. Only when it was close enough for her to sit, did Grimm see that eight metallic spiders’ legs propelled it. He shivered, realizing that the throne was alive, another mad creation from Chromosome’s warped mind. With Chromosome seated, the throne spun around and scurried for the door, the spider entourage following.

  “Grimm, come with me,” Chromosome commanded.

  Mr. Grimm followed her as the door snapped open, relieved to be leaving the dark chamber. He made the mistake of catching Amy’s eye on the way out, and for a moment he felt an icy finger stab his brain. Was she trying to read his thoughts? The scowl she gave him no doubt shortened his life span by several years.

  He followed Chromosome across the bridge in silence; a silence made more oppressive as the mist had closed in, allowing only a few yards of visibility. When they had distanced themselves from the Council chamber, her throne pirouetted. In the daylight Grimm could see the throne’s metal skin undulate as though it were breathing. The red padded seat resembled a raw liver and he could swear it readjusted to Chromosome’s shifting body.

  “Where is Hunter?”

  Chromosome’s delicate tones had been replaced by ice. She glared suspiciously at Mr. Grimm. Grimm’s face was blank and unreadable.

  “As I said, Hunter teleported straight—”

  He didn’t see her move, but in the blink of an eye Chromosome was standing in front of him, her slender fingers around his neck. Despite possessing no obvious muscles, she effortlessly lifted him off the floor and held him out over the mist-shrouded balcony. It was a long drop; not that that bothered Grimm because he could fly, but there were worse things she could do to him.

  “The Council may be employing you, but I am paying you much more. Your loyalty lies with me alone. Understand?”

  Grimm tried to nod. A chrome spider had scuttled into his mouth and he couldn’t talk.

  “Where is the boy?”

  The spider ran out of his mouth and perched on his head. He felt a jolt of pain as the spider pressed two fangs into his forehead, drawing blood. Grimm used all his resolve to keep eye contact with Chromosome.

  “Unknown, but he will come to me. He has carried out your wishes so far.”

  Chromosome regarded him for a few seconds, and then gently lowered him back onto the bridge. Spiders jumped off him and surrounded her as she took her seat. Grimm wiped the blots of blood from his forehead with a white handkerchief. He had seen Chromosome’s Legion strip a man of his flesh like a school of piranhas, so he considered his wound a mere graze.

  “Ready him for the exchange. The president for information of Psych’s location.”

  “Do you really know where Psych is?”

  Chromosome gave a sharp laugh. “Who cares where he is? When Hunter shows, he will be joining me whether he likes it or not. We’ll rendezvous somewhere I can demonstrate my powers if he feels the need to challenge me. Somewhere that will be the last place the citizens of America will look for their precious leader, right under their noses. Liberty Island.”

  “New York?” exclaimed Mr. Grimm in surprise. “Isn’t that a little too public? And bringing the American president back to his—”

  “The president is nothing more than a mascot. It’s access to his military might that I want. Then the Council will have a little uprising when they realize that I have agents in every one of their territories. I will have Hunter under my control, doing only my bidding. Who will be left to stop me? Then I will start the world over from scratch. Cast it in my own image.”

&nb
sp; “Kill everybody?”

  “Everything. I have the power to create life from the lifeless.”

  She tapped a button on Grimm’s suit. The plastic rippled as it suddenly grew a stubby pair of wings, detached itself and flew onto Chromosome’s hand. Grimm could see that she had indeed created life. The button bug had tiny legs; two probing antenna gently tapped her hand.

  “And I have the power to destroy.”

  She crushed the bug between her thumb and finger.

  It was a rare moment, but Grimm was genuinely rattled. He’d had no idea Chromosome was so insane. “You’re talking about being a god.”

  “A goddess,” snapped Chromosome tartly. “But not everybody will die. Be a good servant, Grimm, and you’ll see my new paradise.”

  Grimm bowed, although he knew without a doubt that Chromosome was raving mad.

  “An offer beyond any wealth,” he said humbly.

  “Yes it is. Tell me when Hunter makes contact. I wish things to start rolling right away. I have much to do.”

  Grimm nodded and watched her vanish in the mist. Only the faint sounds of her arachnid troop could be heard. He glanced back in the direction of the Council chamber. If he told them about Chromosome’s plan, then there would be uproar and they would turn on her in a fight that would lead to open feuding as accusations were thrown and allegiances questioned.

  The Council was full of ambitious villains, and not just the eight in power. Minor villains schemed and plotted to one day sit in their place. It was a world of intrigue and backstabbing, originally designed as a democracy, with the Council being voted in. But as soon as Necros became leader and tasted power, he turned it into a dictatorship.

  That would not do for Mr. Grimm. He liked to maintain the equilibrium. There was only one weapon he needed to nudge the balance back in the right direction. Jake Hunter.

  Family Ties

  Air Force One dropped three feet to the floor of the hangar when it materialized in Jake’s new lair. The resulting thunderclap was so loud that it momentarily deafened everybody on board. The hangar was big enough to house two Boeings. A set of huge closed doors led out to a camouflaged airstrip on a mountain plateau; the doors themselves were disguised to resemble the mountain face.