The Superhero's Son (Book 8): The Superhero's Prison

by Lucas Flint

  “But how else am I supposed to know how I got in here?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” said Ivan with a shrug. “Maybe the government wants to keep an eye on you. Or maybe they’ve been looking for an excuse to jail you for a while and just decided to make one up to do it.”

  “Cadmus Smith would never do that,” I said.

  Ivan chuckled. “Cadmus Smith? I know him. Or knew him, anyway. There isn’t much I wouldn’t put past that man, at least if he thought it would help protect the United States.”

  I wanted to argue against that, but Ivan did have a point. While Cadmus Smith had always been an ally to me, I always knew I couldn’t trust him entirely. He was always extremely secretive and had a bad habit of speaking vaguely about top secret information. Not only that, but Cadmus Smith and my Dad hadn’t exactly been the best of friends when Dad was alive and I was sure that there was a reason for that, even if I didn’t know exactly what.

  “Then what am I supposed to do?” I said, throwing my hands up into the air. “Just rot away here in this cell forever?”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” said Ivan. “Of course, given the crimes I committed when I was free, I probably deserve it.”

  Ivan’s self-deprecating tone made me curious. “Why? What crimes did you commit? Who are you, anyway, and what kind of powers do you have?”

  Ivan suddenly yawned. “I’m too pooped to answer all your questions, boy. I’m just going to take a nap before the guards escort us to the prison yard for the day’s exercise.”

  Ivan rested on his bunk and turned so that his back was facing me. A second later, Ivan was snoring loudly, having apparently already fallen asleep.

  Ivan may have been able to fall asleep without trouble, but there was no way I could rest for even five minutes with all of these questions in my head. Yet I had no way to get out or escape, which meant that there wasn’t much I could do until the exercise period in the prison yard later.

  And frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

  Chapter Two

  I stood by Ivan in the prison yard, trying not to appear nervous as I looked around at the other prisoners. Most of them looked really tough; in fact, aside from a few strange appendages or hair colors, most of them looked like ordinary prisoners in their orange jumpsuits. But I knew that each and every one of these guys had been supervillains at one point, though at the moment the area was so crowded with prisoners working out or talking to each other that I couldn’t recognize any of the villains I’d put behind bars.

  I also looked up at the walls surrounding us. They were huge, far too tall for any of us to climb, and they were made of Indestructonium, too, according to Ivan. The prison yard was open to the sky, but Ivan told me that Ultimate Max had a force field generator over the prison yard that kept anyone with the ability to fly from attempting to fly out. He also told me that, in the event someone managed to make it past the force field, patrolling drones would shoot them down and generally kill them. I didn’t see any drones in the sky today, but given how tight security in this place seemed to be, I didn’t doubt that there were some drones on the outside just waiting to take down anyone who somehow managed to get past the force field.

  But I did see guards. They wore the same black armor and carried the same huge guns that the first guard I’d spoken to had carried. According to Ivan, the guards used to carry just normal guns with normal bullets, but ever since the second Pokacu invasion, they had started carrying guns that could fire pellets full of powerless gas. Of course, they still carried normal guns on their bodies as well, but the powerless gas pellets would be more useful in the event that a prisoner attempted to use his or her powers to escape.

  So it looked like I wouldn’t be able to break out here. There were at least a dozen guards on the walls, big and strong-looking guys who looked more like soldiers than prison guards, with a couple more at the entrance to the prison. Right now, they weren’t doing much more other than watching us to make sure we didn’t try to escape, but Ivan told me that the guards occasionally liked to taunt the prisoners or even beat them up. But they usually left Ivan alone, because according to him, he had ‘better behavior’ than the others.

  Speaking of Ivan, he was lying on a bench, lifting huge weights that were twice the size of my skull. He apparently worked out every day and found it nearly as relaxing as reading this month’s edition of Cat Weekly. Ivan still refused to tell me his powers or his supervillain name, but I noticed that the other prisoners gave him a wide berth, so I figured that he had to be dangerous. Granted, he seemed more crazy than dangerous, but for whatever reason, he seemed to have taken a liking to me, so if hanging around him would keep the other prisoners away from me, I was going to stick by his side until I figured out how to get out of this place.

  “What are you standing around worrying for, boy?” said Ivan, his voice strained from the effort of lifting the weights. “You should join me in weight-lifting. You probably don’t need it, but I find that intense exercise always takes my mind off unpleasant situations.”

  “Lifting weights won’t get me out of prison or help me figure out why I’m here in the first place,” I said. “Besides, I don’t want to let my guard down around here. I have a lot of enemies who—”

  “Hey, kid!” shouted a voice I recognized, even though I didn’t want to. “Long time, no see!”

  I turned around to see six prisoners walking toward me, each one wearing a look of intense hatred on their faces. Although they were all in their prison jumpsuits instead of their usual costumes, I didn’t have any trouble recognizing them, especially the lead guy.

  The guy at the front of the group was taller and thinner than me, with a face that didn’t quite seem to match the rest of his body. He was the Uncanny Mimic, or just Mimic for short; formerly a Visionist spy in the G-Men, he had helped Robert Candle try to kill me a few months back. He could shape-shift, if I recalled correctly, though he wasn’t very strong or powerful aside from that.

  To his right was a hulking behemoth of a man with skin that shone like steel. He was Steel Skin. Like Mimic, he had worked for Vision, but as a hired killer rather than a true member. He had been bailed out of Ultimate Max by the Visionary in order to try to assassinate Plutarch during the presidential election, but I guess he must have been put right back in after Incantation and I beat him back then. Even before that, he had been a member of the Vile Four, a supervillain team who had been under Plutarch’s control back when Plutarch had been the supervillain known as the Billionaire.

  Walking to Steel Skin’s left was Firespirit, yet another member of the Vile Four. Like Steel Skin, Firespirit had been hired by Vision to kill someone, though his role had been a bit different from Steel Skin’s. And, like Steel Skin, I had defeated him and sent him to Ultimate Max. He was smaller than Steel Skin and had a full head of fiery red hair, unlike his bald friend, but that did not make him any less dangerous than his fellow Vile Four member.

  Over to Mimic’s left was a short, Japanese man with a huge forehead named Stephen Yamato, or, as he had been known prior to his defeat, Intellect. My team and I had beaten him only a couple of months ago; he was kind of a joke villain, to be honest, but I still wasn’t very pleased to see him.

  To Intellect’s left was another hulking figure, Hammond Krill, or Jawtooth, as he was better known. In contrast to Intellect, Jawtooth’s powers were mostly physical; he looked like a humanoid crocodile, with tough skin and teeth capable of ripping through flesh and bone like paper. Again, he wasn’t exactly the biggest threat in the world, but he was pretty scary-looking and if he had the right guidance he could easily be a big threat in his own right.

  And finally, walking behind Jawtooth was Ernest Rebus, or, as he called himself, Enor. He had the ability to increase his size to titanic heights, with a corresponding increase in strength. Unlike the others, he had been beaten by the New Heroes, rather than me and my team, but my friends and I had fought him as well, so he was probably looki
ng forward to beating me up just as much as the other villains.

  Separately, each one of these guys wasn’t much of a threat, but together and in this prison setting where the guards would shoot me with powerless gas if I misbehaved, I found myself nervous at the thought of facing them. I looked up at the guards on the walls, but aside from a few glances at Mimic and the others, they didn’t seem likely to step in to break up a potential fight.

  “Uh, hey, Mimic,” I said, waving at him, even though I really wasn’t happy to see him or the others at all. “How’s prison been treating you?”

  Mimic and the others stopped in front of me. I hadn’t realized just how many of my enemies were big, hulking brutes until now; for that matter, I hadn’t realized just how ugly my rogues gallery was, either.

  “Awfully,” Mimic snapped. He pointed an accusing finger at me. “I heard that you killed the Visionary. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” I said, since I saw no reason to deny it. “He had it coming, though.”

  “Had it coming?” Mimic said indignantly. “How dare you. I will rip out your heart and throw your body to the dogs.”

  Mimic took a step toward me, but then Steel Skin grabbed his arm, causing Mimic to look at him in annoyance. “What?”

  “I want to tear our his spleen and make him eat it,” Steel Skin said. “You just stand back and watch.”

  Mimic wrenched his arm out of Steel Skin’s grasp and growled, “Who died and made you leader? This kid killed the man who would have changed the world. He deserves death.”

  “Who cares about some dumb cult leader?” said Intellect. He gestured at Jawtooth. “Jawtooth, rip out Bolt’s throat. A much cleaner and more efficient way of killing someone, unlike tearing out their hearts or spleens.”

  Jawtooth nodded, but before he could take even one step forward, Enor suddenly shoved him aside and ran at me, shouting, “No way! The kid’s mine!”

  Enor got maybe a few steps closer to me before Firespirit shot a fire dart at his legs. Enor immediately tripped and fell flat on his face, getting dirt in his beard, while Firespirit said, “No, no. You are all wrong. The Flame desires to consume all. We must burn his body, like a corpse on a pyre, except he will be alive and screaming.”

  Enor scrambled back to his feet and glared at Firespirit. “Oh, yeah? Why don’t we have a fight to figure out who gets the chance to kill him? I could stomp you like an ant, fire face.”

  Steel Skin stepped toward Enor and flexed his muscles. “Firespirit is my friend. You will have to go through me in order to get to him.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Intellect said. He looked at Jawtooth again. “Jawtooth, beat these morons into dust and then kill Bolt. It isn’t like those three can match your strength, after all.”

  Jawtooth nodded and then stepped forward, catching the attention of Steel Skin and Enor, who turned to face him. Firespirit summoned a fireball in his hand, while Intellect stepped back behind Jawtooth, obviously intending to stay out of the brawl.

  Just as I was about to think that maybe my old enemies would take out each other so I wouldn’t have to, Mimic suddenly stepped into the middle of the almost brawl and said, “All of you, cut it out. This is exactly what Bolt wants. There’s no need to kill each other; all of us can have a shot at beating Bolt into pulp.”

  “But I want to make him eat his spleen,” Steel Skin said, almost whined, like a kid who wanted to play with a toy first.

  “We can’t have everything we want in life,” said Mimic. “But you all must realize that we can all put aside our differences and unite for the greater good; that is, beating Bolt into a pulp for ruining our lives.”

  “I must admit that Mimic has a point,” said Intellect, rubbing his chin. “As much as I would like to rip out Bolt’s throat, what really matters is him being dead, even if that means I don’t get to kill him the way I’d like.”

  “The Flame agrees,” said Firespirit, nodding. “There is nothing more beautiful than watching the skin of your enemies melt off their bones and hear their painful screams of pure agony; but alas, beauty must sometimes make way for practicality, as it does in this case.”

  “Then it’s settled,” said Mimic. “We will rip him to shreds. I get his left leg.”

  The villains nodded and turned to face me again. And, you know, this would have been a fine example of different people coming together to achieve a common purpose greater than themselves, except that purpose was killing me, so I didn’t see this as a good thing, necessarily.

  But since it was pretty clear I was going to have to fight, I took a battle stance, even though I wasn’t sure I could beat them all on my own.

  Before a fight could break out, however, I heard Ivan grunt next to me and lower his weights. He sat up, wiping off the sweat gleaming on his forehead, and, standing up, said to my villains, “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?”

  “Yes,” said Mimic, without looking at Ivan. “It’s name is Bolt and we are going to kill it.”

  “Hmm,” said Ivan, stroking his chin. “I am not so sure I can allow that. You see, I don’t like it when a bunch of adults team up to beat up a kid. It’s rather unfair.”

  “Who cares about unfair?” said Mimic. He finally looked at Ivan. “What matters is … is … uh …”

  Mimic’s face went pale. So did the faces of the other villains when they looked at Ivan. I also looked at Ivan, but I didn’t understand what they were so scared of. I also noticed that a loose ring of prisoners was starting to form around us, perhaps because the other prisoners sensed a fight was about to start and they wanted to see it.

  “Yes?” said Ivan. His tone hadn’t changed at all, but there was definitely something threatening about the way he said that word. Maybe it was his Russian accent. “What were you going to say, Mimic?”

  Mimic gulped. He looked at me and then at Ivan again, like he was trying to figure out whether he could beat us both in a fight or not. I didn’t know if Ivan was going to help me or not, but I wouldn’t mind the back up, especially if Ivan was as powerful as he seemed.

  Mimic stepped back. “Nothing. I was not going to say anything. All I was going to say was that we wanted our revenge.”

  “I used to want revenge, too, but then I found happiness in letting go,” said Ivan cheerfully. He smashed his fist into his other hand. “Of course, I know that sometimes you need happiness beaten into you. You seem like a rather unhappy man, Mimic, as do your friends. Perhaps I need to beat the happiness into you.”

  Mimic’s eyes widened, while the other villains all exchanged terrified looks. “No, no, that will be fine. We’re just … going to go and lift some weights on the other side of the prison yard. Right, guys?”

  “Right,” said Intellect, nodding furiously. “Jawtooth agrees. Right, Jawtooth?”

  “Yeah,” said Jawtooth. “Don’t want cancer.”

  I had no idea what that meant, but before I could ask, Enor stepped forward and said, “I’m not afraid of you, Ivan. You’re just a has-been.”

  Ivan raised an eyebrow. “Has-been? So you know who I am?”

  “Yeah,” said Enor, nodding. “But I know you aren’t anywhere near as lethal as you used to be in your younger years. You couldn’t beat us even if you wanted. When was the last time you were in a fight? Thirty years ago? You’re out of shape, old man. I bet even Intellect could beat you.”

  Ivan tapped his chin. “True, I have lived a more or less peaceful life in this prison since being locked away, but that doesn’t mean I cannot fight. It means I simply choose not to.”

  “Then I’ll choose to stomp you and Bolt,” said Enor.

  Enor suddenly started growing in size. His jumpsuit snapped around him, until he was wearing only his stretched underwear that he wore underneath his suit. Soon, he towered above everyone else in the area, tall enough that he was about a head taller than the walls. None of the guards moved to stop him, but I noticed a few check their guns, probably to make sure they still worked in case they needed to use t
hem on Enor.

  “Now,” said Enor, his voice loud and deep. “Good bye!”

  Enor raised his foot to bring it down on Ivan and I. I prepared my super strength, while Ivan’s eyes narrowed, as if he saw something I didn’t.

  But before either of us could fight, an ice pillar shot from the ground and impaled Enor’s foot. Enor cried out in pain and instantly shrank back to his normal size, although now his foot was bleeding and he was lying on the ground clutching it while moaning in pain.

  The ice pillar was receding into the ground now, but I was already looking around for whoever had created it. It couldn’t be Blizzard, my girlfriend, could it? Was she also in prison? Or maybe she had somehow broken in to save me?

  Unfortunately, I didn’t see Blizzard anywhere among the crowd of prisoners who had gathered to watch the fight that probably wasn’t going to happen now. Nor did I see who had summoned the ice pillar, at least until someone stepped out from the crowd with one of his hands raised.

  Like the other prisoners, this guy wore an orange jumpsuit; unlike the others, however, his skin was tinged blue, like he had been out in the cold too long. He had a short crew cut hairstyle and was constantly shivering, even though it was fairly warm out today.

  Ivan looked over at the blue-skinned man and smiled. “Rime, thanks for the save. I thought I was going to have to use my powers, which would have been … disastrous for us all, to put it lightly.”

  The blue-skinned prisoner—who must have been named Rime—nodded as he walked over to us, though he still shivered all the while. “N-No problem, Ivan. I just didn’t want a fight to break out that would require the guards to beat us up.”

  “Good move,” said Ivan. Then he rested a hand on my shoulder. “This is Bolt. He is my new friend.”

  “Uh, hi,” I said to Rime as he approached. “You’re Rime?”

  “Yes,” said Rime, nodding, though his nodding was extremely shaky. “I have some control over ice and cold, t-though not nearly as well as I’d like.”