by Lucas Flint
Listen here, you stupid costume, I said, I know I’m not Grandfather and I know that you don’t trust me because of it. But guess what? I’m your owner now. So you have to listen to me, even if you don’t like it. Got it?
Still no response. I was frustrated enough to seriously consider taking off my suit and trying again another day, because I was starting to lose my patience with this costume and I didn’t want to keep telling it what to do fruitlessly like this.
But then it occurred to me why the suit wasn’t listening to me and what I could do to get it to pay attention to my commands.
So I said, Okay, I know you probably miss Grandfather, because you were his costume for thirty years, which is a pretty long time to work alongside someone. But Grandfather gave you to me because he wants me to use you to save Rumsfeld from some threat, probably the Injectors. If you don’t do what I tell you to, Grandfather will be very disappointed in you, and you don’t want to disappoint him, do you?
Once more, no response. That was almost enough to make me rip off this dumb costume and throw it away, but then, without warning, strength flooded my limbs and I suddenly felt like I could lift the entire warehouse over my head.
My eyes popping open, I grabbed the forklift with both hands and lifted it above my head, yelling all the while. The forklift weighed practically nothing in my hands. I almost threw it away, but then remembered what TW told me about being quiet, and so I gently rested it back on the floor where it had stood before.
I stood back up and turned around to face TW, who was looking at me with an impressed look in his eyes.
“Impressive,” said TW. “How did you master it so quickly?”
I shrugged. “I just told the costume that Grandfather would be disappointed if it didn’t help me. I’m surprised it worked myself.”
“Interesting,” said TW, though he seemed to sense something more in that than I did, based on his tone. “Well, let’s resume our training. You need to be able to call upon your powers consistently, so keep lifting the forklift. We’ll do that until lunch and then take a break.”
I nodded and turned around to pick up the forklift again, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but think about what TW found so interesting about how I managed to get the suit to work for me. Maybe there was more to this costume than met the eye.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the end of my first lesson, I felt great. Though the suit was still rather finnicky—at times, it didn’t want to give me strength and at other times my super strength would nearly give out while I was lifting the forklift over my head—I had still made a remarkable amount of progress in a fairly short amount of time, according to TW. He mentioned that Grandfather mastered the Watch faster than me, but he said I did well nonetheless.
We decided to take a quick lunch break. I had packed a peanut butter sandwich and chips for lunch, but I was still very hungry even after eating that.
“Not surprising,” said TW when I mentioned that. “You did a lot of work today. You should probably have a larger than usual dinner tonight in order to make up for all of the calories you burned.”
Sitting on an overturned crate, I sipped my soda and nodded. “Yeah, I think I will. But if I keep working like this, will I get big and buff?”
“The costume isn’t magic,” said TW, floating next to me. “It won’t grant you muscles like that. To build muscle, you need to eat good foods, work out, and get plenty of sleep, regardless of whether you have powers or not.”
I frowned and looked at the forklift, which no longer looked quite as intimidating as it did before. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But if I can master this suit, then I won’t need to hit the gym to get strong, right?”
“Right,” said TW, nodding, “though I recommend maintaining a strict training regimen nonetheless. There will be times where you won’t always have access to the Watch, so learning how to defend yourself when you are not in costume is important.”
“What, are you a personal trainer now in addition to being an alien AI?” I said jokingly. “Because you sound just like the guy who trained Thomas for a while there.”
“Thomas?” TW repeated. “Who is Thomas?”
I tilted my head to the side. “You mean you don’t know who Thomas is? He’s my oldest brother. Or was, I should say, before he died.”
“Ah, now I remember,” said TW, nodding. “Gregory told me that he had two grandsons, though he didn’t tell me what happened to Thomas.”
I looked away, trying not to show any emotion. “He injected himself with an illegal dosage of Power. It was too much for his body to handle and he … he died.”
“Oh,” said TW. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is that common?”
“Sort of,” I said with a shrug. “Lots of people just want to become superheroes, but either can’t or don’t want to pass the Superhero Exam. So they go to the Injectors to get Power, but it rarely works out.”
“Is that what Thomas wanted?” said TW. “To be a superhero, but without first passing the Superhero Exam?”
I folded my arms in front of my chest. “All I know is that he was desperate. He’d been fired from his job, broke up with his girlfriend, and had other problems, too. I think he turned to Power because he thought it would solve his problems.”
“Why didn’t you or your parents offer to help him?” said TW. “Surely he could have stayed with your family while he was trying to get back on his feet?”
“We did offer to help him,” I said. “But Thomas didn’t want our help. He and Dad … they had a falling out when he graduated from college.”
“May I ask what they fought about?” said TW. “Or is that private?”
“No, I can tell you,” I said. “You see, Thomas wanted to become a superhero, but Dad was against it, because he didn’t want Thomas to go through the same things Grandfather did. He wanted Thomas to go into construction like him, not try to follow in Grandfather’s footsteps.”
“Why didn’t your father want him to follow in Gregory’s footsteps?” said TW. “I was under the impression that most people are proud to be the children of superheroes.”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I said. “I think Dad just didn’t like growing up with a superhero dad, because Grandfather wasn’t always around or something. All I know is that the two had a big fight, which I think was probably one of the reasons Thomas took Power.”
“So you think your father would not be very happy if he learned that you are the new Trickshot?”
“Probably.” I shrugged again. “But it’s too late now. I’m going to use this costume and these new powers to take down the Injectors. If I can do that, then we’ll finally have some closure over Thomas.”
“Yes, I remember you telling Michael Jones that you were declaring war on the Injectors,” said TW. “I didn’t know you meant it literally, however.”
I looked at TW. “Why wouldn’t I mean it? The Injectors are evil. If they hadn’t been around, Thomas would still be alive. So would a lot of other people, actually, because their drugs have ruined the lives of countless families. The police haven’t been able to stop them and neither has Bug Bite, so it’s up to me to do it.”
“That seems like a big responsibility for a sixteen-year-old boy to take on his shoulders,” said TW. “Perhaps too big for someone your age.”
“You yourself said that Grandfather sent me the Watch so I could defend Rumsfeld from a threat,” I said. I held up the Trickshot Watch. “And the Injectors are definitely a threat to Rumsfeld, no matter how many there are.”
TW frowned, as if he was not entirely convinced about that, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like TW could stop me. Even if he tried, I would just stop him, because I had zero interest in hearing him or anyone else tell me how I should use these new powers when I knew quite well what to use them for.
“Be that as it may, it will be a while before you are fully ready to handle the Injectors in a fight again,” said TW. “You still need to learn to master your powers
, as well as gain some real fighting skills.”
“How long will that take?” I asked.
“No idea,” said TW. “It all depends on how much effort you put into it. You’ve already displayed a small amount of talent, but you are still quite a ways off from being ready to take on the Injectors in a fight again.”
I bit my lower lip, but said nothing about that. TW was right. If I wanted to fight the Injectors again, I would just have to work even harder than I already was in order to master my powers faster. By the time I was done with my training, I would definitely be a force to be reckoned with, one that would make even the Injectors shake with fear. Of course, if the Injectors were smart, they’d be afraid of me already, but no one ever said those guys were smart.
My phone started ringing in my pocket. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, saw that Mom was trying to call me, and answered the phone, saying, “Hi, Mom, what’s up?”
“Jack, are you all right?” said Mom in a worried voice. “Are you and Kyle safe?”
“Me and Kyle—?” I said before I remembered the excuse I gave Mom earlier and quickly said, “Uh, yeah, we’re okay. What’s the matter? Has something bad happened? Did the Injectors attack again?”
“No,” said Mom, “it doesn’t really have anything to do with the Injectors, but it also does have something to do with them.”
“Mom, you’re not making any sense,” I said. “Look, you’re obviously letting your emotions mess with your thinking, so I’ll just hang up and head back home and we can talk there, okay?”
“You should come back home, but I still need to tell you about what I just learned first,” said Mom. “The police called to follow up on the Injector attack yesterday.”
I frowned. “Why would they feel the need to follow up again? I already spoke to that Christina lady. What else could we possibly tell them? Did any of the guys they arrested spill the beans on the Injectors’ plans?”
“No,” said Mom, “at least, not as far as I know. I told them what you told me, about Christina coming over to our house for the interrogation, but they were surprised to hear it.”
“Surprised?” I said. “Why? If Christina works for the police—”
“That’s just the thing, Jack,” said Mom, fear rising in her voice. “The Rumsfeld City Police Department had a Christina Madison working for them as a detective … ten years ago.”
“Wait, you mean the woman we spoke to is retired?” I said, glancing at TW worryingly. “And they didn’t know it?”
“Not retired,” said Mom. “Dead. The real Christina Madison died ten years ago in a car accident while chasing down a suspect. The woman who spoke to us and interrogated you … she’s not with the police at all.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
That Monday, when the lunch bell rang, I was among the first students to leave my classroom and get my lunch from the cafeteria. I wasn’t particularly hungry, because I’d had a big breakfast of bacon and eggs before I left for school this morning, but I just wanted to make sure I got my table, which was in the upper right corner of the room away from all of the entrances. That was where Kyle and I normally ate lunch, but it was even more important that I get that spot than normal, because I wanted to be able to keep an eye on all of the entrances, exits, and windows of the cafeteria.
Looking around the large cafeteria that was rapidly filling with hungry students, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was Ryan Bond with his girlfriend Steph, as well as his other jock friends, getting lunch at the cafeteria; near the main entrance was Mrs. Helga, the English teacher who also pulled double duty as the cafeteria security; and out the window, I saw the large oak tree which had been planted in front of Rumsfeld High over a century ago, which was a favorite eating place for a lot of students due to how shady and cool it was.
Everything looked as it should, but I didn’t let my guard down whatsoever. As I started to eat my soup, I thought about the conversation I’d had with Mom back on Saturday about the mysterious Christina Madison.
According to Mom, the last Christina Madison who worked for the Rumsfeld City Police Department had died ten years ago during a car chase. Furthermore, the police confirmed that no one with that name was currently working for them, much less as a detective whose job was to follow up on these kinds of cases. That meant that someone had impersonated Christina Madison and used a fake police badge to trick us into letting her into her home to talk about a case that the police were still investigating themselves.
At this point, no one knew for sure who this ‘Christina Madison’ lady really was, but I was already assuming the worst: Namely, that ‘Christina’ was an Injector agent who was trying to find out who Trickshot really was. It was very probable that the Injectors were looking for Trickshot in order to avenge their friends who were currently rotting away in prison, because the Injectors were well known for forgiving those who harmed them.
I had gotten really lucky by not revealing to Christina who I really was. Even so, I had become somewhat paranoid ever since Saturday, keeping my eyes and ears open for any signs that the Injectors were following me. Every bustling bus, every creaking tree limb, every footstep behind me would make me jump or look twice, only for it to turn out to be nothing other than a cat or another person. This paranoia wasn’t doing me any good, but at the same time, I felt like I couldn’t be too careful, because I’d heard a lot of stories about how the Injectors kill people they don’t like and I didn’t want to be another one of those stories that circulated in my high school.
Yes, I had the Trickshot Watch, which meant that I was not nearly as defenseless as most people, but at the same time, I wasn’t invincible. The Injectors got a glimpse of my power when I took out all seven of their men, which meant that they were probably packing more power than normal in order to take me down. I would be safe as long as they never suspected me of being Trickshot, but if they ever found out my identity, then I would be in for the fight of my life.
“Hey, Jack!” said Kyle suddenly, dropping his tray on the table and plopping down in his seat directly in front of me with his usual cheerfulness. “When I saw you get out of class earlier, I thought you really needed to use the bathroom, but when I saw you in the cafeteria, I realized that you just wanted to get here before everyone else. Not that I blame you, ‘cause lines suck, especially lines for school lunches.”
I almost started when Kyle sat down, but then realized who he was and sat back down on my seat. “Sorry about that. I just, um, wanted to get the best stuff before everyone else gobbled it up.”
“Hey, I’m not blaming you,” said Kyle as he opened his soda can and sipped it. “I should have done what you did, but I got caught up discussing whether or not Superpower would give the same power to twins with Mr. Ferguson.”
Mr. Ferguson was the science teacher who had also been a Superpower scientist in his youth. It didn’t surprise me to hear that Kyle had been talking with him about that subject. Kyle, after all, wanted to become a Superpower scientist himself someday.
“So what did you two figure out?” I said as I scooped up some mashed potatoes from my plate. “Yes or no?”
“We didn’t figure out anything,” said Kyle. “Mr. Ferguson said that there hadn’t been a case of twins being injected with Superpower, despite how long the drug has been in use, but he did give me a link to a new study on siblings who were both injected with the drug. Not quite the same thing as twins, but I guess the same principle more or less applies, huh?”
“Right,” I said, glancing toward the entrance again. “Maybe that’s something you can study when you become a scientist.”
“Eh, why not?” said Kyle with a shrug. “It might lead to new breakthroughs in the science of Superpower. If that happens, don’t worry. I won’t forget you or any of the other little people who supported me, though I’m going to have to charge you for an autograph if you ask.”
I rolled my eyes, but saw something out of the corner of my eye and looked to the right. Two
students sat at a table not far from ours with a tiny red laser dot, which they were using to tag a guy sitting at the table next to theirs. The guy didn’t seem to notice, because he was too busy stuffing his face with food, but the two girls were giggling at the red light, which they flashed on and off rapidly.
“What are you looking at?” said Kyle. He looked in the direction I was looking and frowned. “Just a couple of girls being girls. Not sure what’s so interesting about them.”
“Uh, nothing,” I said, looking back at Kyle. “I just thought I saw something.”
“Like what?” said Kyle in between French fries. He paused and smiled. “You didn’t think you saw Debra, did you?”
“I … what?” I said.
“Debra Ackerman,” said Kyle. “You know, the girl you’re head over heels in love with?”
I looked around the cafeteria again when he said that and noticed Debra immediately. She was still in line with her friends, laughing and joking about something I couldn’t hear over the sounds of the cafeteria, but even from a distance, she looked really beautiful, especially her green eyes.
But then I shook my head and looked at Kyle. “It’s not Debra. I’m just … it’s nothing.”
Kyle smirked. “Come on, Jack. I know you well enough to know when you’re lying. You’re clearly afraid of something and, unless you’re just really paranoid, I bet it’s something real.”
“Real?” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Like the Injectors,” said Kyle. “Or Principal Jacob, though given how the Principal is currently at home because of the flu, I’m thinking the Injectors are more likely.”
“How could you tell?” I said.
“Because you survived the Injectors,” said Kyle. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “And if there’s one thing I know about the Injectors, it’s that they don’t like anyone who manages to escape them, even if you weren’t the one who beat up all those guys.”
I slumped slightly. “You’re right. I’ve been worried about the Injectors attacking me if I let my guard down, and not just because I survived that one attack, either.”