Superheroes in Prose: The 1-4 Collection

by Paris, Sevan

  …. Demigods.

  “Okay,” Casa says, “ Pink, use the prison monitors to guide Galaxy to Deathbot. Galaxy, once you’re there, make your offer. If he accepts, get out of there with him as quickly as you can.”

  “Turning me down isn’t an option. He’s coming one way or another.”

  “Pink, can you use baldy’s telepathy to keep the guards and prisoners from seeing Galaxy?”

  “I think I can handle the guards, but the prisoners will be too many noggins at once.”

  I nod and fly into the tunnel.

  “Galaxy,” Pink says.

  I turn.

  “Don’t frak this up.”

  “Just handle the guards,” I say. “This won’t take long.”

  The vault-like door on the other end of the hallway opens to the top floor of the cell block. Guards stationed at the door ignore me.

  The prisoners are another story: After one sees me and yells, it quickly snowballs from one cell to the next and then so on. They look like regular people wearing regular prison orange. Without any kind of tell-tale power or costume, I only recognize a few.

  Liberty Girl—not ours, but the one Major Mayhem swapped from the Beta Dimension—yanks on the bars of her third floor cell, tossing her matted black hair back and forth. Two cells down, Ghost gives me that kind of look that people do when they wonder how much money they could make for killing me. On the next level, Matchstick shouts at the top of his lungs, begging for somebody to set me on fire.

  And then there are others. Countless others, screaming, crying, pleading, and begging. They’re smart enough or have enough experience with all things Super to at least have an idea of what’s going on. They want me to tell someone that they didn’t do it; they want me to bring the guards to their cells so that they might “talk” to them. The guards themselves stand idly by, every ten cells or so, and face forward, unable to see a single thing around them thanks to Pink.

  I reach the door to Isolation on the bottom floor. The Twin’s face appears on a monitor next to the door.

  “Got it,” Pink says.

  The door slides open into a dark hallway. Automated lights click on from the floor and walls. No bars here—just a heavy looking cell door every ten feet, sunk six inches into the black wall. More glassy-eyed guards ignore me as I hover past.

  A click-chick behind me turns my head. The guards handcuff themselves to the grating and throw away their weapons.

  “Just in case,” Pink says from one of the nearby monitors. “I’m feeling really strain-y.”

  I turn back to the row of cells. “Which one?”

  “He’s in cell 1024.”

  After walking down ten cells and then taking a right turn, I find it. I take a deep breath.

  Not to late to turn back, Gabe.

  “M, it was too late the day we decided to become Superheroes.”

  For you perhaps.

  The door slides up with a hiss. And there he is.

  Deathbot.

  Metal cuffs hold his slack body upright to a metal grate. Large black hoses run out of his body and disappear into the floor, walls and ceiling. Monitors beep and click with status readouts of either him, whatever the hoses are doing, or both. He wears the same orange jumpsuit as the other prisoners, but areas of it are ripped away, covered by the purple and black costume he wore the morning he tried to kill me. The chin of his bare skull rests against his chest, but the crown of green flame is missing. A piece of brown intestine slides out of a hole in his stomach and plops to the floor.

  Charming.

  I step into the cell and Pink either closes the cell door behind me or it closes automatically. “I thumb the bluetooth off and turn off the monitor next to the door. “Can you tell if he’s unconscious?”

  I can, but you’ll have to get closer. The nanite technology that composes most of his body plays havoc with my senses.

  I step forward. There are several brown stains on the floor surrounding the piece of intestine.

  Closer.

  I take another step (did his hand just twitch?). My heart thuds against my chest.

  Okay, now hold your hand up next to his skull.

  “Seriously?”

  Do you want to ascertain his condition or no?

  I reluctantly hold my hand up, four inches from Deathbot’s boney face.

  ….. He’s alive, or what passes for it. He appears to be in some sort of stasis, initiated by the equipment he is hooked into.

  “Can you tell what they’re doing to him?”

  It looks like the human scientists—and I use that term loosely—are attempting to better understand Deathbot’s technology by chemically slowing the nanites’ rate of digestion.

  “Woah—digestion?”

  M sighs. Deathbot’s nanites digest his host’s tissues, which fuels the body’s cybernetic reconstruction. Honestly, Gabe, were you even paying attention that night?

  “Why would they want to study that?”

  To build their own of course.

  After everything Deathbot has done and everything he is capable of doing, it’s hard to believe anybody would be that stupid. Still, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

  I’m much more interested in how he survived and from where he originated. I have no clue about the former, but—based on the design of these cybernetics—I’ve created a working hypothesis for the latter.

  “And?”

  M tells me his theories about Deathbot’s origin. My head pounds with the realization that there may be even more at stake here than I originally thought.

  “Okay, M. I’ve heard enough. How do I wake him up?”

  Disconnect the larger hose from the base of his cranium.

  I wince and reach behind his skull. With two good yanks, the hose pulls free and leaves a trail of green slime dangling from the attachment and the port. Deathbot’s shoulders twitch slightly.

  I step back.

  A small green flame hisses to life at the top of his skull. Spasms seize his neck and chest and then proceed to his legs. The green flame triples into a blaze. He writhes, head snapping to full attention. Two green dots light up in his eye sockets.

  “WHO DARES IMPRISON DEATHBOT?!” he says, in that creepy digitized voice.

  “Well the body’s different, but I see you’re still the same.”

  “Galaxy …”

  “Which is good ‘cause that means your memory is all there.”

  “RELEASE DEATHBOT!”

  “How are you even alive? I saw you die on the bridge.”

  Deathbot lunges forward, only to slam back against the grate. “FOOL! You have but one chance to continue the mockery you call an existence! You will release Deathbot! Or he will feast upon your organs!”

  “But I guess a better question is why do you talk in the third person.”

  “Take your teeth and scalp as trophies! Wear your bones! Force your loved ones to dine from the bucket of your remains!”

  “I came to free you.”

  Deathbot stops yanking at the restraints. “Your are a fool if you think Deathbot so easily sported.”

  “If by that, you mean I’m trying to trick you—no, I’m not. But I want some stuff in return.”

  “Assuming Deathbot agrees to this … ridiculous notion—what sort of ‘stuff’ do you require?”

  I point at his head with a spacey finger. “Somewhere inside that disgusting melon of yours is a memory of your conversations with Liberty. Like the one where he offered me and Prose up on a platter. I want a copy. I want to know how you survived. And I want to know who sent you after me.”

  “You ask a great deal more than you offer.”

  “Well, in my defense, the one thing I’m offering is pretty epic.”

  The green dots pass back and forth for a moment. “No.”

  “No? Are you insane? This is the best shot—probably the only shot you’re going to have at finishing your mission to kill the Traxel. And you say no?”

  Deathbot quickly je
rks his head in my direction. “How could you have possibly surmised—”

  “Your tech is from the Danine Consortium. There is only one reason why they would build something like you: to fight their enemies—the Traxel.”

  “…. Deathbot will not leave this wretched planet empty-handed. I seek financial compensation that can only be granted with your capture or kill.”

  “Why? What could a robot-zombie weapon possibly want money for?”

  “To rid himself of being a ‘robot-zombie weapon.’ ”

  I can’t help but laugh. “You mean Deathbot wants to be a real boy?”

  “Call it what you wish. But know that the financial condition must be met.”

  “…. Okay, help me and I’ll help you. Not with the turning me in part, but I’ll get you the money.”

  “Whatever passes for currency on this ridiculous world is of no real value.”

  “Fine. Whatever sort of space bucks you need is what I’ll get you.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I guess you’ll have to agree to find out, won’t you?”

  The green dots flick back and forth again.

  “Tick-tock, Death-y.”

  “Very well. Your terms are acceptable. I am alive because Silver Sentinel isolated a body infected with my glorious seed—”

  “Okay, let’s just use ‘nanites’ from now on, cool?”

  “ … only the nanites that were in this body survived the disruption signal he deployed. And after you destroyed my host body, my signal uploaded into this one. Now … free Deathbot from this infernal contraption.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. You still have two more things to deliver.” I point at the shackles. “This is the only guarantee you’ll come through.”

  “And if I give you all of the information you seek, I have no guarantee. It appears we are at a standstill.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not the one trapped in a jail cell.”

  “Aren’t you? If you are so desperate as to come here seeking my aid, you’re certainly trapped in some sort of desperate situation.”

  I get right in Deathbot’s face. “I’m calling the shots here, got it? And there is no freaking way I’m freeing you from this thing until you give me exactly what—”

  The lights go out in the cell. Emergency lights click on, and an alarm wails throughout the prison.

  Deathbot laughs. “You were saying?”

  Crap.

  I turn to the door and flick on the monitor. “Pink? You there? What’s going on?”

  Nothing. Deathbot turns his head to the ceiling and laughs even harder.

  “PINK?!”

  I hold up my hand, getting ready to blast the cell door … when Pink floats through it, eyes wide with fear.

  “Liberty …” she says in her disembodied voice. “He’s here.”

  Chapter Four

  I don’t have eyelids when I’m powered up as Galaxy. But if I did, I would’ve been able to do nothing but blink at Pink for a few moments. I just do the nothing part instead.

  “Liberty’s here? How is—”

  Focus, Gabe. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how do WE stop being here.

  “What happened?” I say.

  “He got here two minutes ago. Didn’t even go through a door. Just tore through the ceiling like it was rice paper. I had just enough time to vacate the Twin’s body and high tail it here.”

  “But it’s just him? No other HEROES?”

  “Yeah, my guess is we tripped a silent alarm when you came into Deathbot’s cell. Something that was Liberty’s eyes only.”

  Given the reason why M thinks they locked up Deathbot in the first place, it would certainly make sense that Liberty wouldn’t want anybody else to know if he could help it. “Wait, why didn’t you just possess him?”

  She shakes her head. “He’s had training with Thinkor to resist that kind of stuff.”

  “Tick-tock, human,” Deathbot says, mocking my earlier tone.

  Pink looks over my shoulder at the cybernetic living dead. “Has he given you the file yet?”

  Gabe, we are out of options and almost out of time.

  I sigh.

  “Guess that’s a no,” she says.

  “We’re going to have to fight our way out.” I cross the room to Deathbot and shatter the manacles around his wrists with two Grav Blasts. “All of us.”

  “All of—are you kidding?! He has a flaming skull for Christ’s sake! They don’t come any more villain-y than that!”

  With a loud metal clang, Deathbot jumps down from the machine and yanks out the remaining hoses.

  “Deathbot will give us an advantage. Liberty won’t expect it—and the nanites almost killed him last time, so Liberty will be afraid. Maybe more than he would be of just us anyway.”

  Pink rolls her eyes.

  “Hey, I’m running on empty here. If you have a better idea, I’m all for it.”

  Ripping cloth from the rear of the cell grabs our attention. Deathbot’s nanites ripple underneath rotting flesh and torn clothing. A series of blinking lights and purple metal webs out of his upper torso. His right forearm splits down the center, exposing a laser cannon still covered in red chunks of meat and bone.

  “Oh, that is messed up,” Pink murmurs.

  “It is Deathbot who shall be doing the messing up today, human!”

  Pink looks at me. “Is he for real?”

  “In the worst way. Come on.” I fire a Grav Blast into the cell door, blowing it off the hinges. I step into the hallway, turn left and pass the two handcuffed guards at the hatch. Both of them stop tugging at the cuffs just long enough to stare at us walk by. We go through the hatch, separating Isolation from General Population …

  And see Liberty on the ceiling monitors, looking down at us.

  Looking down at me.

  With a creepy quiet, the prisoners eagerly look from the monitors to us. The guards are no longer here. I guess Liberty cleared them out.

  “I have to admit, son, out of all the silly things I thought you’d try, this one didn’t even make the list.”

  I step in front of Deathbot and Pink. “Let them go. This is just between us.”

  “See, that’s always been your problem, Galaxy. You fail to see the consequences of your actions. They don’t just affect you.”

  Thank you.

  “You’re one to talk,” Pink says.

  He laughs, incredulously. “I’m not the betrayer here, Daisy, you are.”

  Daisy?

  “So what exactly were your thirty pieces of silver?”

  Pink crosses her arms.

  “That’s okay, kid. I don’t suppose I’d have anything to say either.”

  “Don’t. You. Dare.” I point at the monitor. “You’re not the hero here! You pretend this is all about the greater good, pretend you’re doing humanity a favor. But the truth is you’re nothing more than a sadist looking for an itch to scratch.”

  “And what were the prison personnel you crippled on the roof? I suppose they were sadists too?”

  “I didn’t …”

  “Suffering is suffering, Galaxy. Now who is pretending?”

  “THE CRETIN KNOWN AS GALAXY IS MANY THINGS, LIBERTY! HE IS A SIMPLETON, AN EMASCULATED WORM, INARTICULATE SCUM!”

  “Not helping …”

  “BUT HE IS NOT A PRETENDER!”

  “And now your advocate is a villain that almost destroyed the city. I would say the mighty hath fallen, but that would require you to have at least stood at some point.”

  “ ‘I figure civilian casualties will be around twenty percent. By the time we cover it up, it’ll be more like five percent.’ Remember saying that to Deathbot two months ago, Liberty? I do. And more importantly Deathbot does inside that cybernetic noodle.”

  The corner of Liberty’s mouth slightly raises into a sneer.

  “We’re going to share it with the world in about five minutes. You call Deathbot my advocate? More like your executioner.”

  Random
cell doors clank open throughout the block.

  I, involuntarily, take a step back.

  “Attention inmates,” Liberty says, “by now you have no doubt surmised there is an escape attempt in progress.”

  M gets a Grav Blast ready in each hand … “Pink, you said powers are drawn back like a magnet? What’s the range of that metaphorical magnet?”

  Pink darts from one side of me to the other. “Enough.”

  “Let me be perfectly frank, I’ve released several of you and restored your powers.” Liberty flicks some switches off screen. “A full pardon will be granted to the inmates that capture or kill these three individuals.”

  Deathbot’s bazooka blaster thing click-clacks into place above his right shoulder. His arm cannon makes a high-pitched whine.

  Matchstick, the Circus Six, and that little psychopath Liberty Girl step out of open cells.

  “Try not to make a mess.”

  The entire Circus Six—Monkey Wrench, Elephant Man, Lion, Lioness, Grizzly, and Slither—leap over the railing one at a time, falling directly at us in their animal forms.

  With a high pitched scream, Monkey Wrench is the first. He is more monkey than man, with long furry arms stretched out and lips curled away from angry looking teeth that he wants to sink into me.

  Pink never gives him the chance.

  She possesses him mid-fall and immediately angles his body’s trajectory, slamming him into Elephant Man’s trunk. In a bright flash of pink light, she possesses Elephant Man and grabs the confused Monkey Wrench around the torso. All three tons of her lands on the ground with a thunderous boom, and she then slams Monkey Wrench against the nearest wall. He falls to the ground, leaving a large red stain.

  The rest of the Six land around the anthropomorphic elephant with glowing pink eyes. Grizzly yells, flinging slobber everywhere. Lion and Lioness growl, and six inch claws slide out of their paws. Slither coils up his ten-foot body to strike.

  I raise my arm, ready to fire a Grav Blast at Slither, when Liberty Girl fly-punches me in the face, knocking me six inches into the nearest wall.

  “Do you think I’m pretty?” she says with a girly whisper. I pull myself out of the wall in time for her knee to say howdy to my gut. It doesn’t hurt, but I have to go with the momentum—back into the wall. She comes at me again, but I stop her with a blue Grav Blast to the face. She shakes her head and flies up, stopping twenty feet above me.