Dark Hunter

by Andy Briggs

  “I’m in … the hospital.”

  “You okay?” Jake realized he was truly concerned.

  Lorna laughed. “I’m fine! I’m just visiting a friend.”

  “I’d come and catch up with you but I’m … uh, stuck doing something.”

  “Oh.” There was a long pause. “Not to worry.”

  Jake wasn’t convinced she meant that. “Give me a couple of days to finish things up, and maybe we can go out again?”

  “I’d like that. I was thinking about popping by your house—”

  “No!” He sounded a little too harsh. “Not yet.”

  “Your parents still mad?”

  “You know what adults are like.”

  He looked around the room in search of something to say that didn’t involve superpowers or kidnapping the president. He caught a report on the news right at the end after the stories about global conflict and war, a silly one designed to “lift your spirits.”

  “I just saw on the Internet that yaks have prevented those space tourists from lifting off in Kazakhstan. Says herds of them had to be cleared from the launch pad. Must be great flying into space. Maybe we should go to Kazakhstan and give it a try?”

  “Yeah, my brother and I were talking about that,” Lorna said, laughing at the absurdity of it. “But yaks? Jake, you’re starting to sound funny.”

  Jake blushed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Listen, I have to go. Looking forward to catching up with you in a few days, though. Take care.”

  “You too.”

  He heard the line go dead and stared at the phone. What was he talking about yaks for? He flicked the TV off, feeling stupid and completely uncool. He could have talked about anything, but chose the most irrelevant, stupid subject he could.

  What use was that snippet of news to anybody?

  Chromosome sat on her mobile throne, which glided through her cavernous chamber. She had crafted her lair by rearranging and fusing the atoms of the rocky island around her to produce a living, breathing room. It was like sitting in the mouth of some enormous predator, with glistening columns that stretched from floor to ceiling and were never in the same place on repeat visits. A warm breeze flowed through as though the room were gasping for breath. There was a constant sound of dripping slime, and the shadowless illumination came from the walls themselves.

  Her back was still painfully throbbing from where Jake had blown her wing off. It’s great being able to grow extra body parts, but if they’re damaged, they still hurt like crazy. On the plus side, once Chromosome had created a new set of limbs, the instruction would be embedded in her DNA. That meant she could create the wings much faster in the future, just as she had done with the extra insect limbs and doubling her size—all residuals from previous adventures.

  The loss of her Legion pained her in other ways. It took time to create such perfect little creatures that could morph into different shapes for whatever task was at hand. It was like having a walking Swiss Army knife. Luckily she had left a few dozen of her Legion behind to guard her lair.

  Like the other Council members, Chromosome had abandoned her old lairs and hideouts, and moved to one of the islands circling the Council chamber. Each island was uniquely designed to suit its occupant, and on windy days she could smell a sickening decomposing scent from Necros’s headquarters.

  A soft, monotone voice echoed around the chamber, as though the room itself were speaking—which was a possibility.

  “Ambassador Grutt has arrived to see you.”

  Chromosome frowned. The Council had ambassadors who could move freely from island to island to solve problems and make sure the Council functioned efficiently. Although they were just ordinary humans, paid a great deal of money, they had diplomatic immunity and, in theory, could take Council members down for their actions. They seldom visited unannounced.

  Chromosome sat upright, her injured wing-stub folding flawlessly into her back with a crunch of bone and muscle. She summoned a small drinks stand from the corner of the room, which glided over like a high-speed snail, leaving a trail of slime.

  “Enter,” she commanded as she poured herself a drink.

  The doors to her chamber silently pulled open. Ambassador Grutt entered wearing the formal crimson robes of office. His face dropped slightly as he entered the chamber; he’d never been here before. The doors closed behind him, giving him the unnerving feeling that he had just walked through a heart valve.

  He was a portly man, built from too much of the good food and drink that was readily available at the Council. He had a deep tan, which was not surprising given the island’s tropical location, and constantly shifting eyes. He briefly dipped his head in greeting.

  “Chromosome, thank you for admitting me.”

  “As if I had a choice, Ambassador,” Chromosome said coolly. She hated the servants and bureaucrats who filled the Council’s ranks. She decided they would be one of the first things she would get rid of when she rose to power. She would replace them all with computers. “What do you want?”

  Grutt wrung his hands nervously. He thought he could see the walls and columns lean slightly in, as though the room were contracting.

  “It has come to my attention that you may be plotting Machiavellian operations against the establishment.”

  Chromosome blinked at him in surprise. Another thing she hated was the ambassador’s bombastic way of speaking.

  “If by establishment you mean the rest of the world, then yes. That’s why I am here. As we all are.”

  More wringing of the hands.

  “We received an anonymous tip-off that your schemes involve terminating key Council members so as to elevate your own position.”

  Chromosome glared at him, her mind racing for a suitable answer. Her remaining Legion appeared from the shadows and surrounded Grutt, obeying her every telepathic command.

  “Your source is confusing my plan to use the president of the United States.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Grutt as he nervously eyed the Legion around him. “The president. An unfortunate blunder.”

  Chromosome’s hand balled into a fist with an audible crunch. Her eyes narrowed. “It was no blunder. It was a perfect plan that went awry through lack of Council support.”

  “You never asked for any support.”

  “Nevertheless, it should have been offered. Is that all you have to say? Some rambling false accusations? Leave me.”

  The ambassador held his ground, his voice quivering with nerves. “That is not all. Your failure with the president raised the question of why it appeared you were working with Hunter?”

  “Are you crazy?” Chromosome stood up and began circling him. “In the chamber it was Necros himself who asked me to find the boy. And you dare lay suspicion on me for doing my job?”

  Her voice rose, echoing through the room. It was so menacing, Grutt involuntarily closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

  “It was the external e-mail we received—”

  “An e-mail?” Chromosome exclaimed, genuinely surprised. She had been wondering who could have betrayed her from within the Council. But now she had somebody from outside to contend with.

  “Y-yes, an e-mail came in …” Grutt was beginning to lose his nerve. He had received the anonymous tip-off and headed straight here to get to the bottom of it. He was now wishing that he’d spent more time fact checking. “It gave details of your … er … alleged plans to remove some of the Council as well as details of how Hunter defeated you.”

  Chromosome’s face flushed with rage. Grutt instantly knew “defeated you” was the wrong thing to say when standing in front of one of the most merciless super-villains on the Council.

  “I … I mean slipped through your fingers …”

  That was no better.

  Chromosome instantly understood who had sent that e-mail. In ordinary circumstances it would be nothing more than a prank. But the Council of Evil took every lead seriously. A number of spam e-mail companies had unexpect
edly gone up in flames when the Council’s e-mail address had found its way on to their servers.

  “It looks like you have been misled, Grutt. The victim of a prank. Spam e-mail, nothing more.”

  Grutt nodded, suddenly eager to leave. Chromosome relaxed, and a smile found her lips.

  “But no harm seems to have been done. Before you leave, tell me who else have you told? It would be embarrassing if other Council members got the wrong idea, wouldn’t it?”

  Ambassador Grutt sagged with relief as the tension in the room was dispelled. “I have told nobody, I assure you. I came straight here to see you.”

  “You did? Good.”

  The ambassador’s own smile faltered. Her words had somehow seemed very final. And he remembered that seeing Chromosome smile was never a good thing.

  “I should be going.”

  He turned to leave but the patter of tiny feet made him look at the floor. The Legion surrounded him, the palm-sized spiders rearing on their back legs, chrome fangs clicking menacingly.

  Chromosome took her seat, crossed her legs, and clasped her hands together to get comfortable. “I don’t think so, Ambassador. Questioning my loyalty is not something I take lightly. Especially when you are correct.”

  The ambassador could only give a gasp before the Legion crawled all over his body like hot needles burning his flesh. He screamed and fell to his knees as tiny mouths bit into him. Within fifteen seconds his squeals had abruptly stopped and the Legion scattered back into the darkness, leaving nothing but a pile of broken bones wrapped in torn robes.

  Chromosome had to think fast. She had to delete Ambassador Grutt’s e-mails. Then she would strike back at Hunter by destroying his only chance of ever restoring his parents’ memories.

  She would kill Psych.

  Jake thought he’d go crazy if he looked at one more Web page. He had decided to trawl deeper through Villain.net and the Internet as a whole, to try to find a crumb of information on Psych. But he had found nothing.

  He was getting restless, and that usually made him feel angry. He wanted to contact Mr. Grimm but had no number, no e-mail, nothing. Grimm was always the one to initiate contact. Jake was convinced he would have heard from him after the Statue of Liberty incident, but he didn’t seem to be returning anytime soon.

  Jake shook his head when he realized that he had been lazily watching multicolored sparks leap bet ween his fingertips as his powers swirled inside him like bad indigestion. He had never seen energy spark from any other hero or villain, and wondered if it had something to do with the mutating powers in his body. And he found himself again regretting ever opening that spam e-mail from Villain.net. But it was too late to turn back time.

  Feeling melancholy, Jake decided he’d go and visit his family again. Mr. Grimm had told him often enough that Jake was the prime target for any hero, villain, or Enforcer so he should keep a low profile. But right now Jake didn’t care. He was going to do things his way.

  Jake teleported into his old bedroom with a loud bang. He reasoned that since his family was conditioned not to see or hear him, then they wouldn’t have heard the noise coming from upstairs. Plus, it got around the motion sensors outside.

  He felt annoyed that his room was now being used as a dumping ground for any old bric-a-brac. He made his way downstairs, as loudly as he did when he lived there—but came to an abrupt halt halfway down. The hallway was decorated with bright tinsel and flashing Christmas lights arranged around the door. Even after destroying the Christmas tree in the shopping center, he’d forgotten what time of year it was—an easy thing to do within the drab gray walls of an empty Transylvanian castle.

  He entered the living room. His mother had gone overboard with the decorations as usual. A bushy Christmas tree, too big for the room, had its top bent to follow the ceiling. It dominated the corner with enough lights to outshine Las Vegas.

  Jake felt a lump in his throat. When he was younger, he and his sister always helped their parents decorate the tree. It was an exciting time, charged with the magic of the season. But as he got older and more cynical, he begged off such chores, and had long ago started taking for granted the effort his parents put into making the place look jolly.

  He noticed a line of Christmas cards on the shelf and picked them up. His name was not on a single one. Not even from his grandmother.

  Feeling utterly alone, Jake followed the sound of voices and headed into the kitchen. His family was gathered around the table eating. Beth was excitedly talking about her day at school. Their mom laughed in all the right places as she half-read the newspaper, and his dad nodded eagerly as he watched the news on the television.

  Jake pulled up an empty seat. His seat. Nobody paid him the slightest attention. He waved a hand in front of Beth’s face as she twittered on about her role in the school choir. She didn’t react, even when he motioned to slap her, stopping less than an inch away.

  Jake was nothing to them.

  He reached over and snagged an overcooked sausage from his dad’s plate. He didn’t seem to notice the theft. Jake ate half of it, but found his appetite was gone. He didn’t listen to their conversation, the words drifting over him like water. Just being with them was enough for him.

  Old Jake would have moodily picked at his food before retreating to his bedroom or slinking outside to cause mayhem with Scuffer and the others.

  That all seemed like a million years ago now.

  When his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, he answered it without moving away from the table, shouting to hear himself over his family.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hunter, this is Mr. Grimm. I … where are you? Who is talking in the background?”

  Jake quickly stood and walked into the living room.

  “That was the TV. You were right about Chromosome. She had no intention of helping me.”

  “I heard all about it. I’m sorry it turned out that way.”

  Jake found his next words difficult to say, especially after the last several weeks. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

  “To be forewarned is to be forearmed. I have some news of interest to you regarding Psych.”

  “You know where he is?” Jake’s eyes shot around the room. The festive atmosphere made him want to be part of his family more than ever before.

  “No. His team split up several years ago and he recently retired in secret.”

  “Retired?”

  “We all grow old. And with fewer heroes around these days, many seek early retirement. Out of the limelight and gaining a longer life span because of it. I have checked the Foundation computers and there is no record of where he is now. He just surfaces every now and again to do some freelance work when he needs the money. I do not have time to help you fully, so you must take the next steps on your own. And hurry, as Chromosome will have her own methods of tracking him, and I suspect after the beating you gave her that she will be looking to hurt you by killing him. That’s one thing about the Council of Evil; they all tend to think alike.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Psych was part of a superhero team. I have an address for one of them. Blizzard. I’ll text his details over now. Find him and you take a step in hunting down Psych. Good luck.”

  The line went dead before Jake could ask any further questions. Moments later a text message arrived. He had a destination: Turkey.

  Manhunt

  Chromosome walked quickly through the citadel corridors. The citadel dominated the central island, housing the Council chamber on the upper levels, with administration offices and accommodations below. Running an evil empire was big business, with profits in the billions. When the Council of Evil issued permits to allow villains to carry out their sinister plans, they took a diabolical percentage of the villains’ ill-gotten gains. It was an endless process that required constant monitoring of which villains were successful, still alive, had the correct permits, and so on. For any villain who tried to cheat the system there was a severe penalty
: death. It required a lot of administrative staff.

  Chromosome was sure that Ambassador Grutt’s absence wouldn’t be noticed for several hours. Now she had to delete his personal computer records to remove all traces of Hunter’s e-mail. She mentally kicked herself for killing him. It was one thing to dispatch a hero or wailing security guard, but murder of the Council’s own staff was heavily discouraged and often led to detailed inquiries. Chromosome couldn’t deal with that hassle right now.

  Without the president and access to his military might, her goal of restarting the planet would have to wait a little longer. She had persuaded three other members of the Council to back her, but that had created problems. She obviously couldn’t reveal her identity, so she used a code name to remain anonymous. The problem was that her coconspirators also had to use pseudonyms to conceal their identities. So she didn’t know who they were either. It wasn’t the best way to form a conspiracy.

  She passed through the open-plan section of Grutt’s domain. If you ignored the fact that the citadel looked like a crooked finger pointing skyward, and was located in an extinct volcano, run by the eight most notorious evil masterminds of the day, then the office block looked just like any other business. People chatted at the water cooler, workspaces were outfitted with advanced workstations that linked to a quantum-processor server (that was imbued with artificial intelligence, and was called “Ernie”). The walls were decked with personal decorations and there was even a Christmas tree in one corner.

  Chromosome ignored the curious looks, and people swiftly stepped aside for her. It was rare for a Council member to come down here. She reached Grutt’s private office and slipped inside.

  It only took a few moments for her to delete the e-mail and wipe his computer’s drive. Her Legion had already disposed of his bones in the ocean. Jagged cliffs surrounded the nine islands, so there was no beach for the evidence to wash up on. It was a simple crime. Now she could get on with the business of tracking down Psych.