by Adam Graham
Powerhouse grabbed the captor’s shoulders. The pain intensified.
The captor growled, “Let go of me, or I will triple your agony.”
Already the pain was too much. Powerhouse released the villain and fell back onto the cot.
The villain clapped his hands. “Very good, you will learn well.”
“You won’t triumph.” He imagined the jerk tied up.
All he got was a headache.
The villain said, “Your mental powers are restrained by your collar.”
Powerhouse felt his head. He had revered him back to his own face, but they had not removed his mask. He touched his neck. It had a metal collar. Pain shot through him. He let go of the collar.
The sadist laughed. “That wasn’t wise. That collar causes you pain at my mental command, and it will hold you here until you die unless you break it.”
“You think I can’t break it.”
“I have been assured you can, though you will experience extreme pain before you do. However, if you break it before you lose consciousness, you go free. So it is only a matter of time before you return to your own world.”
Powerhouse blinked. “That seems kind of pointless.”
The villain shrugged. “Who am I to question the will of mighty King Bel? However, he has required me to provide you a detail you are bound to find irrelevant. Your collar is tied to the seven other inmates on my team. If you break it, they will be executed by their collars. If you leave our underground system of caves, they will be executed.”
Powerhouse blinked. “What is irrelevant about that? You just told me, if I escape in any way it will kill seven people.”
The villain stared at him like he was the strange alien. “And your problem with this is?”
“I don’t kill people.”
“That is a violation of a commandment of Perdition! ‘You shall kill your evolutionary inferiors.’ You are by all physical specifications a great specimen and the superior form of life to your teammates.”
“I don’t fear Perdition. I follow the Lord.” Hopefully his super-language power would translate that into the locals’ name for God. “He says not to kill.”
“Who is the Lord?” The sadist grinned. “Perdition’s first commandment says, ‘the Lord did not deliver you out of the pond, for you delivered yourself. You shall not bow down to the Lord, nor shall you serve him, nor shall you have any other gods before you.’ If you still regard a useless myth, then I do have some work to do before you’ll reach your next stage of evolution.”
“You sound like a self-help guru.” Pain coursed through Powerhouse’s body. He screamed. “Stop that!”
“No. I enjoy causing you pain, and it’s necessary for you to fulfill your evolutionary destiny. You’ll get to go home as soon as you fulfill that destiny. Now, I’m going to take you to your team. If you tell them what you breaking your collar will do to them, they will all die and be replaced by another team. Now get up and come with me.”
Powerhouse ran his hands down his arm. His force field control and his rocket pack control had been smashed to bits. Since he wasn’t a mechanical genius like Grandpa, there was no way he could fix them. Powerhouse got up.
The sadist led him onto a platform, and it flew through a vast network of filthy underground mines. Alien men were at work digging holes and breaking through rocks.
They landed in the middle of a mining campaign. The area was lit by bright electric lights that shone on eight of the white-scaled alien men. Seven of them were tall and muscular, and one was about the same size as James.
The sadist clapped. “Attention, this is our new inmate. He is 234569. Everyone, exchange your numbers. I am overseer number 157354.”
Each man said a number.
Oh, this is Math hell. If names are forbidden, I’ll have to give everyone nicknames.
“I leave you to get to know each other.” Overseer cackled and left.
Powerhouse groaned. “What are your names?’
The short one recoiled. “King Bel only bestows the honor of a name on a new immortal.”
Which made everyone else forgettable. “Tiny Tim, I don’t do numbers.”
The biggest one snarled. “You’ll learn not to defy the kingly law. We’ll annihilate you. Let’s give him a proper introduction.”
All but the short one rushed Powerhouse.
Powerhouse jumped over the six miscreants and delivered a roundhouse kick that knocked them over like dominoes.
Grinning, Tiny Tim stood beside Powerhouse. “I declare an alliance with the newcomer.”
Gasping, the others backed away and stood.
Powerhouse blinked. Was this another, uh, short ninja?
“This is not finished,” the biggest one said to Powerhouse as they left.
Tiny Tim grunted. “This will be finished when I finish it.” He pivoted to Powerhouse. “That was a good move. You’ll do well in the arena.” He peered at Powerhouse’s forehead like he was reading a tattoo. “Two, three, four…”
“Please call me Powerhouse.”
Tiny Tim gasped, glanced around, and whispered, “Who named you? The Lord?”
“No, the Lord named my first ancestor and granted parents the right to name children. Though, I got the name Powerhouse from my youngest son.”
“How is the Son either inferior or your property?” Tiny Tim scrunched his eyebrows together. “Few of us remember that name of the Forbidden God, let alone know what it means.”
“Uh, I meant my own male offspring.”
“So your cyber-guardians give every male spawn in their care the name Son? Interesting.” Tiny Tim peered over his shoulders again. “When it’s just the two of us, sir, we may use our gifts from the Lord, Tim and Powerhouse, but if we are caught accepting names from any source but King Bel . . .” He pretended to slit his throat.
Powerhouse smirked. “I bet it’s legal to taunt people with name calling.”
“Oh, there’s no law against that.” He winked. “But don’t you dare.”
What was something that Overseer wouldn’t find suspicious? “I’ll call you whatever I want, Shorty, and I’ll call the guy with the pain powers Sadist.”
“I’d rather call him a miserable failure, but that will take some time to be proved. Now, we need to get to work.” Shorty led Powerhouse to a shack.
“Why are those guys afraid of you? They backed off when they saw you.”
“Most of my people are like them: clumsy, hulking fools. They think I am an aberration when I’m in truth the future: compact, intelligent, and quick. I’ve achieved eight battle points.” He grinned like that was impressive. “With no forbidden help, of course.”
Powerhouse rubbed his head. “You’re good at video games?”
Shorty chortled. “I matured past the point of simulations fourteen cycles ago. You truly are a stranger. Here, the only legal objective in life is the survival of the fittest. The most fit become overseers. They schedule battles between members of their teams. When you have ten points, you may challenge the overseer. They said I would perish in the first battle. Instead, I’ve won my first seven battles, then fools attacked me, and I killed two of them, earning another point. I get half a point for each time I kill in self-defense. Now, I have been waiting two cycles for my next bout, but the overseer has not scheduled it.”
“Why not?”
“He fears I’ll win my last two points and then challenge him. I’ll reek vengeance on an enemy of my true king, inflicting on Failure the pain he’s inflicted on Son’s people.”
Powerhouse grimaced. Surely ‘Son’ isn’t thinking I’d make a terrific missionary.
A bell sounded from somewhere.
“We have to get our supplies.” Tim AKA Shorty grabbed a shovel from the shack, handed it to Powerhouse, and grabbed another for himself. “Let’s make haste, metal man, to the dig.”
He led Powerhouse to a pit dug half a mile down and half a mile across.
Shorty snorted. “We must cl
ear this hole of dirt. We’re only half done.”
Powerhouse whistled. “Piece of cake.”
“What is cake?”
“Usually, I’d make you some, but I meant it’d be easy.”
A big guy was down in the hole.
Powerhouse hollered, “Take a break. I’ll finish this.”
Big Guy laughed mirthlessly. “You think you can finish the hole?”
Shorty glanced Powerhouse over and nodded. “If my compatriot can’t, I will give you my day’s rations. If not, you will give me your day’s rations.”
Big Guy stuck out his tongue. “How long does he have?”
Shorty licked his upper lip. “I wager he can complete this by the time of an arena battle.”
“Now that is a wager.” Big Guy climbed out of the pit. “I’ll enjoy your rations, imp.”
Shorty tugged on Powerhouse’s arm. “You can do this, can’t you?”
“Stand back and watch me do it.” Powerhouse jumped in the pit and dug across it at super-speed. Darting back and forth, he flung all the dirt into neat piles at the stop of the canyon. At the bottom, his shovel hit a rock and broke. Powerhouse dug it out with his hands.
Powerhouse gasped. It was a gold nugget the size of a boulder.
He pulled it out and ran up to the top where his teammates sat dusty and gaping at him.
He grinned. “Look what I found!”
Shorty groaned. “Why are you impressed? That is the most common element we encounter. This hole was supposed to be empty. That proves you dug past the bottom.” Shorty shouted to the giants, “Your rations are ours!”
The sadist emerged, frowning.
A jolt of electricity passed through Powerhouse and the others cried out.
Overseer sneered. “What’s the meaning of this? Refill that hole.”
“Don’t worry, guys.” Powerhouse moved at superspeed, shoved all of the dirt back into the hole, and stomped.
“Mother of Spawning King Bel!” Overseer stomped to Powerhouse and shook his shoulders hard. “The purpose of this is to exercise your bodies—all of them. Not for you to show off your supposed powers.”
Electricity shot through Powerhouse’s body.
The sadist wagged his tongue. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” Powerhouse grunted.
The pain intensified.
Overseer snapped, “Slave, that’s ‘Yes, overseer, yes!’”
Powerhouse screamed. “Yes, Overseer, yes!”
The electricity stopped.
Overseer said, “The increase in production will not be repeated again if 234569 does not wish to experience an entire day full of pain. Today, we will move to the arena early.”
Powerhouse followed his group of eight through the caves and boarded the overseer’s flying platform.
Shorty said, “I knew I picked a good ally in you.”
The overseer’s platform landed outside of what looked like a gray stone gym. He said, “Go and shower.”
Powerhouse shuddered. Of the many evils I’ve faced, few have equaled community bathing—and in a place like this it could be a euphemism for getting gassed to death.
They ambled into the gym. The overseer ran ahead of him. “You are to bathe separately, as we cannot devise how to remove your metal outfit.”
Without superimagination, I don’t know how to get it off, either. He sighed. “Thus is Powerhouse delivered from the peril of the group shower.”
Overseer blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Narrating my life. I do that sometimes.” A small electric shock went through Powerhouse.
“This way.” Overseer led him to a dark blue room. “Enter.”
Powerhouse backed away. “That doesn’t look like a shower.”
A low-level shock hit his neck.
“Put these goggles on.”
Powerhouse obeyed. “Okay, I’m going, Mr. Cranky.”
Overseer closed the door.
A chemical sprayed his costume and a light filled the room.
“Exit!” the Overseer screamed.
Powerhouse walked out, removed the goggles, and stared at his costume. It was all bright and shiny. “Nice.”
“This way to the arena.”
He and his team followed Overseer to an area the size of a small gym. Crowded around were twelve others who looked just like everyone else except one guy was taller. In the center of the arena, a man stood inside a cage. He had black hair and bright pink skin. He paced back and forth, using his frog tongue to move from spot to spot. Finally, two of the albinos were ushered in.
The pink man glanced them over. “Acceptable.” He handed both of them a sword in a sheath. “Both contestants have one point.”
The two left the sword in the sheaths and fought hand to hand.
Powerhouse grunted. That’s just as well. It’s stupid to have those big swords in that little cage. It’s too cramped to maneuver.
The two almost identical contestants pummeled each other with brutal ferocity. Within minutes, they were both bloody messes.
Powerhouse groaned. It’s as bad as some of the guys in my ultimate fighting days, though I usually took them out quickly.
One fighter ferociously kicked his opponent’s knee and felled him.
Scowling, Powerhouse cupped his hands into a megaphone. “Boo! That’s a sissy move.”
Everyone in the arena stared at him.
Sissy stomped on the thigh of the fallen guy and kicked him repeatedly. Fall Guy grabbed for his attacker’s foot, but Sissy kicked the hand.
The crowd began to cheer. “Let the fittest survive!”
Sissy raised his sword in the air over Fall Guy’s head and leaned back.
“No!” Powerhouse dashed towards the cage, ripped the bars, and hurtled towards the two fighters. He knocked the attacker off his feet.
Scandalized gasps rose from the assembly of Perdition.
Powerhouse puffed his chest out. “The real commandment is ‘you shall not kill,’ and it will be strictly enforced on my watch.”
“Death to Blasphemers!” Sissy shouted as he swung his sword.
Powerhouse ducked, sped behind the cowardly villain, and squeezed his arm. “Drop it!”
Sissy dropped his sword, whirled on Powerhouse, and slammed his fist into Powerhouse’s chest plate. He screamed.
Snickering, Powerhouse said, “That wasn’t very smart.”
Both fighters screamed and broke apart into particles.
Gasping, Powerhouse glared around the arena. “What happened?”
His sadistic overseer entered. “You’ve proven yourself their evolutionary superior.”
The crowd chanted. “Let the fit survive and the unfit perish.”
“That’s wrong!” An electric shock knocked him to the ground.
Overseer sneered. “It is most unfortunate the way you proved your evolutionary superiority violated the rules. Therefore, while you still get two battle points, you will also receive a severe taste of Perdition’s wrath.”
Pain coursed through Powerhouse like a thousand knives stabbing. He writhed on the floor. All I’d have to do is break this collar. He glanced up at the smiling, laughing faces of everyone but Shorty. No, mustn’t grab the collar.
The pain continued for ages until finally the world disappeared.
Naomi stood in front of the mirror wearing her Justice Woman mask.
Beside her, Carmella tapped her cheek. “It looks fine, though maybe a bit old-fashioned.”
Naomi stared at her reflection. “Black jeans are practical, but I’ll make them a bit looser and add a Kevlar lining and change the shirt to match.”
Carmella touched Naomi’s black cowgirl hat. “I love this, if you can keep it on while in flight.”
“I can, but you’re right, I need to be able to fly. Let’s give the boots the ability to hover. And now for a cape.” A black cape with red lining appeared.
“Whoa, girl. It’ll get tangled in everything, and what does it actual
ly do?”
Naomi bit her lip. Superheroes should wear capes, right? Powerhouse didn’t, since his jet pack would burn up a cape. She’d be flying by boot, so that wasn’t a problem, plus it would look cool. “I’ll make it flame-proof and bullet-proof, so I can use it to protect bystanders.”
“I guess that works.”
“I also borrowed a couple personal force field generators Dave kept in the basement.”
Carmella put up her hand. “You’re not expecting me to play sidekick?”
“No, the extra one’s for the horse.”
Carmella blinked. “You’re going to ride a horse through Seattle?”
“It’s part of my theme.”
“But a horse? It can’t do high speed chases.”
“When I need to do that, I’ll do it on foot.”
Carmella blinked. “Well, glad you planned for that.”
Naomi grinned and hopped a little. “Now the sword.”
Carmella smirked. “Are the Pirates of the Caribbean invading Seattle?”
“Maybe a sword’s not practical.” Naomi slumped but then straightened up. “How about a whip? I can do a lot with that. I’ll make it retractable, so I can extend to long distances like a hundred feet.” She stared at her waistline. “I don’t have enough emergency gear. I need to figure out a way to pull anything I need out of thin air without anyone thinking of Powerhouse when I do so.”
Carmella snapped her fingers. “Give yourself a black belt with a bunch of pouches on it. Imagine something is in one and pull it out.” Carmella pointed to a Batman action figure on the bed stand by Dave’s side of the bed. “No one will suspect a thing.”
Naomi laughed. “True, but I can’t create something out of nothing.”
Carmella opened her purse and pulled out a bag of candy. “Change a regular belt into a utility belt and stuff candy in its pouches. You can turn the candy into whatever you need.”
“Eventually, my boys would find it and eat it all.”
“Don’t I know it.” Carmella laughed. “If they find the temptation and surrender to it, replace it with a dried vegetable they don’t like.”
“I see that prank and raise you.” Naomi giggled. “Candy, taste like hot tamales with a heat index only a fire-breathing dragon would love, but don’t do serious harm.”