by Hester, Phil
He dropped Tremblor, who crawled away until he could get to his feet and limpingly run away. Fletcher didn’t bother to watch him go, instead rushing to Josh.
Fletcher tossed aside sheet metal and the twisted remains of the catwalk. He dropped to his knees to be closer to his brother. “What happened? One minute we pulled in and then as soon as I got upstairs, the place exploded.” Josh whispered. “Was that Tremblor?”
“Yeah, it was. I guess he did this,” Fletcher lied. “I came as soon as I heard. Now I’m going to get you out of here and we’re going to patch you up—”
“I can’t feel my legs, Fletch,” his brother breathed.
One look was all Fletcher needed to know that was probably a good thing. Josh’s legs bent in odd directions in places where he didn’t have joints.
“Don’t worry, Josh. You’re going to be fine.”
Josh wasn’t supposed to be here. He was at home reading a text book about Ancient Rome or playing on that video game console Fletcher had bought. Fletcher had done everything he’d done to make sure Josh would be safe, to make sure he wouldn’t ever have to worry about getting hurt or killed by some...
By some superpowered idiot trying to impress Technein.
Fletcher didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t take his brother to a hospital. No one there would treat a Revolutionary, and if Technein found out Fletcher had brought a Revolutionary to the hospital—a Revolutionary who was his brother no less—they’d both be killed...and most likely by the "doctors" themselves who often did whatever they had to in order to keep Technein happy. Besides a neighborhood clinic wasn’t going to be able to treat these kinds of wounds.
There was only one place that might be able to help.
“This might hurt a little,” Fletcher warned Josh as he gently scooped his brother into his arms. Blocking out his brother’s screams, he closed his eyes and concentrated on flying.
Slowly and gently, he descended through the entrance to the cave beneath the ruins of the Global Defenders’ headquarters.
The hologram of Android 7 seemed surprised to see them, or as surprised as an android’s hologram was programmed to seem.
Fletcher laid his brother beside the blue pillar and hopped to his feet. He pulled open the panel to get another of the Megamatrix’s hockey puck-like interfaces.
“I need your help,” Fletcher yelled at the Android. “I need to download some powers into my brother. Something that will help him. Maybe Korgus’s toughness. Or can Lord Trident perform any kind of underwater magic healing spell?”
“You have already downloaded those powers into yourself,” Android 7 reminded him. “There is nothing left.”
“Then transfer whatever he needs out of me and put it into him,” Fletcher offered.
“Once the power has been installed into a new host, it cannot be removed with this technology. The extraction process required another process. This machine only distributes the powers.”
Fletcher could see his brother slipping out of consciousness and worried whether he’d ever awaken again.
“I only took seven of them,” he recalled. “The Global Defenders were—-there were like a hundred of you guys, weren’t there?”
“At one time or another,” Android 7 confirmed.
“Then pull up someone with fast healing powers or something and download that.”
“The Megamatrix has been kept alive on batteries in standby mode for thirteen years,” Android 7 explained. “There was only power enough to download seven members’ powers. We chose the seven most powerful members and made them available for the good of all humanity.”
Fletcher stared at the blue pillar, as if some miraculous solution might spring from it at any moment.
“I am sorry, but there is nothing to be done for your brother here,” Android 7 said.
Tears welled up in Fletcher’s eyes as reality sank in. He sat down beside his brother, who reached up to hold Fletcher’s hand.
“I know you think I was stupid to join Miguel and the Revolution,” Josh whispered. “But if I’m going to die, at least I know I was trying to make things better. You thought Dad was a sucker for doing the same thing.”
“No, no, no,” Fletcher comforted.
“Maybe he was. Maybe I’m a sucker, too. But I was making a difference.”
Except he wasn’t, Fletcher thought. Even Miguel admitted the Revolution was a lost cause, at least as it stood now. “The Revolution’s not going to change anything unless they get some real muscle,” Fletcher said. “Someone who can stand up to guys like Napalm and Technein.”
Fletcher shot a look at Android 7, who seemed to be staring back knowingly. Of course, Android 7’s face was unable to express emotions, but Fletcher could gather what he was thinking nonetheless.
“Good luck finding someone like that,” Josh said with a weak laugh. And as the laugh faded, so did Fletcher’s brother.
CHAPTER 11
Fletcher wasn't ready to join the Revolution. For that matter, he doubted the Revolution would accept him after what he'd just done to their garage and their truck. Instead, he found himself speaking to the only person he thought might listen.
"My brother... he's dead," Fletcher said, trying to hold back tears.
"What? When did this happen?" Napalm asked in surprise.
"While I was out. I was fighting the Revolutionaries and he... was caught in the middle."
Napalm sat up straight in his chair and rubbed his chin, unsure what to say next. "I... I can't imagine how you feel right now. It's probably best if you head home and get some rest. You did a great job tonight." Napalm threw a stack of money across the desk. "Why don't you take a little down time and tomorrow we'll have a job--"
"Tomorrow?" Fletcher blurted. "I can't--You want me to come back tomorrow?"
"Well, not until the evening. Take some time for yourself."
"I can't do this tomorrow," Fletcher cried. "I can't do this anymore. I thought... I guess I didn't think. I didn't think about who all I was hurting."
"Oh, there there," Napalm comforted, getting out of his chair and coming around the desk. He took Fletcher's face in his hands and looked into the boy's eyes. "I know this is difficult for you, but you need to remember one thing."
Fletcher blinked his teary eyes and looked up at Napalm. "What's that?"
Napalm shoved two of his fingers into Fletcher's mouth, then pressed his thumb up against the soft fleshy part beneath his jaw. "You think it's that easy to quit? Let me make this clear. You belong to us now," Napalm snarled, leaning into Fletcher's face as the boy tried to struggle away. "And before you try anything, we all know you're pretty tough on the outside, but I'm guessing if I explode my hand right now, you're not so tough on the inside. Should we find out?"
Fletcher stopped struggling.
"Now, as I was saying, tomorrow I have a job for you. Bring that big ball and chain you love so much."
Fletcher carefully considered his options, not the least of which was thanking Mr. Napalm, grabbing the stack of cash, and showing up the next day ready for work with a great big smile. He couldn't fly away, and turning invisible when someone has his hand locked onto your jaw is pointless. He only saw one way out.
In a flash, Fletcher disappeared. Napalm fell forward without the boy to lean on any longer, but caught himself before he fell onto his face. He stood up and scanned the room, but saw nothing.
Usually, when Fletcher changed size, he tried to do it gradually. Going from five-foot-ten to a fraction of an inch in a half a second will give you a splitting headache, but considering the headache Napalm was threatening, Fletcher made the right choice.
As he tried to hold his brains in his skull, Fletcher watched the frantic Napalm search the room, completely overlooking the edge of the desk where he'd fallen. In Napalm's defense, however, Fletcher did look like a fleck of dust when he was that size.
"Kid, wherever you are in here, I'll find you," Napalm threatened. "If I have to blow myself up and burn down everything i
n this room to do it, I will. You're invisibility's not going to save you from that."
Fletcher had to act fast. And as badly as shrinking fast would give him a headache, returning to normal quickly made him want to throw up. Fortunately, when Fletcher magically appeared standing on the edge of the mahogany desk, Napalm was more preoccupied with looking at the giant ball and chain being swung at his head than he was Fletcher's nauseous face.
Napalm dealt with the threat of the five hundred pound weight swinging at his head the way he did most problems--by exploding. Flames shot up to the ceiling and the blast knocked Fletcher backward into Napalm's plush office chair, but the ball and chain sailed through the inferno without doing any harm.
Fletcher had to change tactics. He only had a moment before Napalm reformed and could explode again. There was no way to fight him. Ball and chain, punches, kicks, nothing could land and hurt him. Fletcher's only option was to get away. He stood and turned invisible, ready to run out the front door in complete silence.
Instead, pain wracked his body.
Fletcher fell backward into the chair again, clutching his chest. He felt like the device that had burrowed its way into his sternum was rethinking that decision. He panted and clawed at the device, wishing it would make up its mind.
"So, you must be Fletcher," said a nasally voice from the doorway. Fletcher turned to see Technein, his hand reaching out toward the device. "I'd always hoped our first meeting would be under better circumstances."
CHAPTER 12
As the pain surged through him, Fletcher struggled to lift himself out of the chair, but didn't have the energy. He slumped back down and tried to summon his ball and chain, but had no luck. He tried to shrink, he tried to grow, but neither worked. He even tried to flick a paperclip at Technein's eye with Archer's deadly accuracy, but only managed to clumsily flip it onto the carpet.
His powers were gone.
"I suspected as much," Technein bragged. "I told Napalm that no one could have so many powers naturally. Didn't I tell you?"
Napalm's reforming body nodded carefully.
Four of Technein's security agents came around their boss and through the doorway. "I'm neutralizing his power," he assured them. "Pick him up and move him to the couch."
Fletcher couldn't even begin to fight them off. It took everything he had not to fall to the floor in a shuddering, spasming mass. He craned his face toward the sky and let out a scream of agony that died in his parched throat. He swore he heard a heavenly choir sing to him, calling him to come to them, and he wondered if this was what it was like to die.
Each of the four guards grabbed one of his limbs and hoisted him to the leather couch near the door to Napalm's private lavatory. Technein stood over Fletcher and tore his shirt open. He examined the device on Fletcher's chest like a jeweler inspecting a rare gem.
"You can tell by the markings on here that this is an old piece of technology," Technein observed. "Ten, maybe fifteen years old. Where did you find this?"
Fletcher obviously couldn't answer.
"I'm guessing it has a bunch of different powers in it. You wear it around and can do whatever it has in there."
Technein wasn't exactly right, but Fletcher couldn't correct him. The powers weren't in the device in his chest. It was only the interface that allowed him to access them.
Then Fletcher realized, Technein couldn't have stolen his powers. The powers were a part of him, not the device. Interfering with it, could only restrict his use of them, not take them away entirely.
He knew he couldn't control his size like MaxMolecule or turn invisible like Red Wraith, and if he had Korgus or Liberty Torch's strength, he'd have no trouble pushing these security guards off of him. He had trouble concentrating on what was left. He was so thirsty it was making him lightheaded. He couldn't use Archer's accuracy, and even though Ali Babba’s all-seeing vision would be worthless, he tried it anyway and failed. What was left?
Fletcher rolled his head to the side and heard the choir singing for him again, calling for him to join them. Only the song wasn't coming from some magical afterlife beckoning him to cross over.
It came from Neptune's Spirit.
Lord Trident's magic spear glistened within the glass case above the desk. When his eyes locked onto it, the pain in Fletcher's chest, his entire body, faded to a numb throbbing. He calmly extended his hand toward the case, which caused one of the guards to grab and pin his wrist to the couch.
At Fletcher's command, Neptune's Spirit freed itself at last. For more than a decade, it has patiently awaited the return of its master and at last the time had come to reunite. In a shower of glass shards, the trident broke free of the case and hurried to Fletcher's hand, stabbing the guard who'd pinned his wrist cleanly through the forearm.
The guard fell backward, letting go of Fletcher's arm and clutching his own bleeding wound instead. But the other guards, Napalm, and Technein barely noticed his cries of pain.
That's because when Neptune's Spirit reached Fletcher's hand, they were a little distracted. For years, the ruler of the seas had been missing, but now that he was back, the water itself celebrated.
Every pipe in the entire mansion burst at once, and none in a more spectacular mess than those in Napalm's lavatory. The toilet and sink exploded in a scene reminiscent of the 4th of July if fireworks were replaced by indoor plumbing. Fragments of porcelain tore through the wall separating the bathroom and the office, allowing streams of water to spray through the hole left behind. Water from the upstairs pipes that had burst began seeping through the ceiling. The room looked more like a dam ready to burst than an office.
As soon as the water touched his skin, Fletcher realized why he'd felt so thirsty. He'd been dehydrated. Now, as he soaked up the deluge pouring forth from the wall and ceiling, he felt every cell of his body restored. Better than restored. He felt every cell rejoice. The pain from the device was gone, and with it his concentration problems.
Fletcher took advantage of the distraction of exploding plumbing, rolling off the couch and using the handle of Neptune's Spirit to trip two of the security guards all in one fluid motion. He got to his feet and grabbed the remaining guard by his shirt and tie, then tossed him across the room on top of the others as they tried to stand, knocking them all down.
He pointed the tips of Neptune's Spirit at Technein's throat. Technein stared at the handle, silently panicking at every twitch of Fletcher's hands. The ability to interfere with any electronic system was worthless against an ancient magical sea spear. That was why he'd had Napalm kill Lord Trident instead of doing it himself.
It would take next to nothing. With less effort than it would take to slice a ripe peach, Fletcher could plunge the trident into Technein's throat and end the supervillain's reign over the city. Yet something within him restrained him. He didn't want vengeance. He wanted justice. But more so, he didn’t want to be like Technein or Napalm or Tremblor. He wasn’t a murderer.
"Over by the window," Fletcher ordered, giving Technein a quick, painful poke in the chest. "You, too," he shouted at Napalm
Napalm, who was nearly fully restored and ready for another blast, happily joined them by the large bay window that overlooked his fishing boat in the marina, ready to kill Lord Trident all over again.
"You think if you get rid of me you can just take over the whole city and it's that easy? What are you going to do?" Technein said. "Kill me?"
"No," Fletcher declared, "superheroes don't do that. I'm going to bring you to justice."
Napalm and Technein both laughed. "And how are you going to do that?" Technein laughed. "There's no justice left on Earth, dummy."
"Maybe not on land," Fletcher said with a sly smile, slamming the base of Neptune's Spirit on the floor of the office.
The two supervillains shared a quizzical look for a second before they heard the roar. The first thing they noticed when they spun around was that Napalm's fishing boat was above their heads. But that didn't make any sense.
>
With a deafening explosion, tons of water came crashing down on the mansion. The tidal wave shattered the windows and filled the office with water up to everyone's chest.
Napalm launched himself toward Fletcher and exploded, but the water moved to protect its master, dousing the flames before they could cause any damage. As his body tried to reform itself, the bits that remained slipped out the window in the undertow of the water receding back to the gulf.
The current grabbed Technein as well, and though he tried to fight it, it was too strong. He was sucked out the window and shouted threats at Fletcher that were drowned out by the roar of the water.
With both supervillains pulled far out to sea, Fletcher breathed a deep sigh of relief and turned to leave the office. Lord Trident wasn't the only one of his kind and far beneath the waves, the last of his people would be eager to dispense justice to the men who had robbed their kingdom of its king.
In the doorway, waiting for him, were two dozen more of Technein's security guards, each bigger than the next.
CHAPTER 13
Now that Technein was no longer around to tamper with the device on his chest, Fletcher realized he could again access the powers of superheroes other than Lord Trident again. However, something must have damaged it, because he could now only access on set of powers at a time.
Not that it mattered much against a pack of security guards. No matter how burly they might look, they were no match for Korgus... or MaxMolecule... or Liberty Torch... even Red Wraith could probably take them all without breaking a sweat.
Fletcher decided he’d have the most fun chasing them down the hallways of the old mayor’s mansion while swinging a giant ball and chain over his head, smashing everything in sight. So Korgus it was.
“What do you want us to do now?” the lead guard asked Fletcher just as the ball and chain formed around his forearm.