Ordinary Champions

by Hayden Thorne

  Welp—apparently whatever ‘roids he’d been taking did zilch to his bad Hallmark card lingo. I guess that would’ve been hoping for too much.

  “Yeah, well—can’t blame me for being new at this superhero shit,” Freddie grunted. I couldn’t even see him. The Trill’s ginormous form was in the way.

  “He was caught transforming from one of my men into another one of my men outside this warehouse. From Mr. Bowles to Mr. Franks, who was, unfortunately for this morphing youth, communicating with me via phone from the subway tunnels. A double whammy, as they say, Mr. Plath, caught in the act of transforming, and caught in the act of transforming into someone I was talking to.”

  The Trill paused and smiled.

  “I need a nap,” Freddie piped up, yawning loudly. “Man, this is seriously messed up.”

  “You should’ve thought about that first before diving in the way you did, sir. Why can’t teenagers slow down and use their brains?”

  I glared at him. “Maybe because some psychopaths have already tampered with their brains. Just sayin’.”

  “And as for you, my failed protégé, I certainly had high hopes.”

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, my initial fear of his size fading gradually. “I guess you’re having a pretty sour taste of what motivated your parents into screwing around with your genes, huh?” I paused for a moment. Then, craning my neck a little, I called out to Freddie, “Sorry! No offense meant!”

  “None taken, dude,” he returned.

  The Trill chuckled and leaned over my table, resting his weight on his hands as he held me down by his stare. Even with his mask on, I could feel it.

  “So charming,” he purred. “My mistake where you’re concerned was in failing to detach you from your emotions, as you already know. The Noxious Nocturne—the program I used on you—was specifically designed with you in mind.”

  I stared at him. “Me?”

  “Yes, dear boy. I know about your doubts. Your feelings of inadequacies around your friends and especially Calais. Insecurities were the program’s source of power, you see…”

  “Calais?” Freddie blurted out, his tone totally incredulous. “What—you mean you’re going out with Calais?”

  “Was!” I said, my face heating in embarrassment. “Not anymore!”

  “Wow. No, that’s cool, really. I’m not against that. I mean, you’re free to date whomever you want, man. It’s just that—I didn’t know Calais is gay.” He paused. “Dude…”

  I rolled my eyes. “We broke up. Now can we drop it?”

  “Okay, okay.”

  The Trill shook his head. “As I was saying, Mr. Plath,” he continued in a louder volume, “I knew about your insecurities. It’s quite common sense, don’t you think? In a love affair that isn’t equal, the lesser of the pair will suffer the pangs of jealousy and uselessness.”

  I swallowed but didn’t say a word. He was right, of course. The bastard. What Brenda told me before about insecurities and how the manipulation I suffered in the Trill’s hands fed off those—it all made sense now. I wanted desperately to kick the Trill’s ass, even if it meant getting blasted into oblivion in the process, but I also wanted to kick my own ass for letting my weakness take over. I made Peter break up with me because of it. Then I gave the Trill better leverage in his “ownership” of me.

  Those insecurities were still there, still mocking me and trying to convince me Peter didn’t love me even though he’d said so when we talked that night during the bank robbery. They bugged me then, and they bugged me again, when Althea found me out and “chatted” with me afterward. The really scary thing was that I saw how I was more likely to believe them than Peter, no matter what he’d said about him and Wade and about what he felt for me. I didn’t know what that said about me other than that I didn’t seem inclined to think someone like Peter would love me for me, considering what it was Wade could give him. Yeah, despite the fact Peter was totally gay.

  I understood everything now. When the Trill said all my ideals of morality would go out the window once I was faced with Magnifiman and especially Calais, I realized what he meant. Seeing Calais—Peter—and more so when he showed up in Wade’s company was enough to trigger my insecurities again, which turned me into a killing machine of some kind. No wonder I couldn’t control myself when the moment came.

  I didn’t even know if my powers subjected me to visual hallucinations, just like that night at the private auction. I remembered catching sight of Peter holding Wade’s hand when they flew into the hall. It was a super quick moment, so much so it could easily have been nothing more than a figment of my imagination, but, God, the effects were potent.

  “I can see the wheels turning in your head.” The Trill laughed, breaking up my thoughts. “It’s too late, though. My protégé proved to be a failed experiment.”

  “Yeah,” I snarled. “I guess you didn’t expect me to, you know, accept the fact that I’m nothing special. I’m not one of the good guys, and I’m sure as hell not one of you psychos. That was a major relief, let me tell you, when reality sank in, and I learned to be okay with it.”

  He smirked beneath his mask. “Which means that you’re satisfied with mediocrity. How sad.”

  “Hey, listen—being an ordinary guy isn’t mediocre. I’ve got something to give, you know, even if it doesn’t involve superhuman powers.”

  The Trill waved a big hand. “Please, spare me the After School Special lecture.”

  I shrugged despite my shackled situation. “I frankly don’t give a rat’s ass what you think.”

  “No, you never did, Mr. Plath, which makes you an even greater disappointment. I had to go back to my labs and continue work on the Noxious Nocturne…”

  “Which you started to use on your own men,” I cut in. “Boy, you’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

  “My men allowed themselves to play the role of guinea pigs. They’ll do anything for me, you see. I saved them from life in the gutters. They’re fed and clothed and properly trained in offense and defense. In brief, young man, these men owe me.”

  “You’re sick,” I retorted, which only drew a round of hearty laughter from him. “And I’m sure what you saw to be the effects in them were better than what you saw in me.”

  “But of course! With a little more tweaking, I managed to completely eradicate risks in the Nocturne’s program. The downside to experimenting on ordinary folks like you and my men is that the Nocturne’s effects don’t last very long, and in your case, your powers deteriorated rather quickly. Such is the way with emotions, alas.”

  “Yeah? Then you should’ve screwed with an adult, not a teenager,” I snapped.

  “I’ve heard that argument before—”

  “That was me,” Freddie cut in. He actually sounded triumphant at one-upping the Trill as a fake Mr. Bowles. Yeah, I remembered him saying something about recruiting adults instead of teenagers when he was disguised. Ha! Smart ass.

  The Trill shook his head again, a tired little smile curving his thin, white mouth. “Yes, Mr. Jameson, I’m quite aware that you fooled me there—even as Dr. Dibbs.”

  “Sucks to be you, man.”

  “Freddie, shut up!” I said, my freak out levels shifting in Freddie’s direction. “You want to be killed or something?”

  “If I get a chance to rub salt into his wounds, I don’t mind.”

  “Oh, great,” I grumbled.

  “The weakening effects of emotions play only half the part in your powers’ deterioration,” the Trill continued. “Your energy abilities, planted while you were unconscious the first time around via injection—”

  I gave a small start. “I thought you said you never poked a needle in me!”

  He grinned and leaned closer. “I lied, Mr. Plath.” A burst of quiet laughter escaped his throat when I fought against the restraints, desperate to get my hands on him. Ayup, like I could actually give him a world of butt hurt, considering his “evolution”. Go me.

  “Now, now, ki
d, calm down. The game’s over as far as you’re concerned. Your weakened energy abilities were supplemented through an oral formula, which proved to be another failure. You were injected when I saved you from self-destructing that day you turned the Zippy Art Storage into a crude jail for my men and the Puppet’s dolls, but your powers had already progressed so far in their decaying process that even an injection wasn’t going to help you.”

  “Oral formula?” I echoed, not liking where this was going—not that I liked any of the proceedings, really, but this was leaving a sick feeling in my stomach.

  “Your overly-sweet lemonade, young man.”

  “Okay, that figures. And for the longest time, I thought your kitchen staff just sucked big time.” Christ on a cracker, that pissed me off. I wanted to beat the crap out of him twice over, so I had to turn my face away and glare at something else. If I looked back at him, I was sure I’d throw up. Then again, that might not be a bad idea, as long as I aimed well.

  “As a supervillain’s sidekick, you were a disappointment, I’m afraid. I suppose I’ll have to swallow such a bitter pill. Then again, I don’t really need an assistant. My men come in handy for important, oh, errands, in a manner of speaking, but I’m quite satisfied that I work independently and will flourish alone.”

  I stared at the stacked crates and so on, my mind whirling after a certain elusive idea, one that had just been planted by something the Trill said. Or maybe didn’t say. Eventually I caught up with it, and more things began to fall into place.

  My breath hitched, and my eyes widened. I immediately turned to look back at him, my eyes taking in every crazy abnormal feature of his. It all made sense—his evolution and its freaky quality.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed. “You—you used the Noxious Nocturne on yourself, didn’t you?”

  “Bingo,” he whispered. “You’re smarter than I thought, Mr. Plath.”

  I couldn’t form words as my mind tried to wrap itself around the possibilities. He watched me in amused silence for a moment before chuckling softly.

  “Yes, you understand everything now. Ordinary humans have severe limitations, no matter what I do. Your energy abilities or my men’s super-strength—none of you are made for this kind of manipulation. I am, however. I wouldn’t say that I’m a blank music sheet, awaiting a masterpiece. No, sir—I’m a piece of music that’s just been transformed into a work of genius.”

  Yep, that proved it. The super-enhanced super abilities didn’t include an improvement in communication. Über-juiced or not, the Trill still talked like a bad Valentine’s Day card, as far as I was concerned.

  “You’re sick,” I said.

  “Repetition doesn’t become you, young man. At any rate, I’m quite done with you and your mole friend here…”

  “Mole?” Freddie sputtered, and I heard him struggle against his shackles. “Mole? I’m not a mole!”

  I coughed. “Dude, you kind of are. You mimic people to gain access to the Trill’s hideout, no?”

  “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  “Heard that before…”

  The Trill finally stepped away, and the air surrounding my table suddenly felt lighter and more breathable. Whether or not the effects of his incredible size on me were psychological, I didn’t care. I was just glad he wasn’t beside me.

  “Well, I shall leave you two youngsters to chat. I’ve got business to attend to, and you know what it involves—or, rather, whom.” He turned around and walked away, and in my state, I could almost swear that the ground shook with every step he took. It was all bull, though, and I held my tongue until I was sure that he was gone.

  Chapter 17

  If anyone had aimed a camera at me, I’d have been captured looking as though I were suffering from some major, painful bout of constipation. That had included occasional breaks during which I just sagged against the table, sweaty and panting. God, that would’ve made a pretty nasty sequence to watch, even with just a close-up.

  The thing was that, once we’d been left alone, I tried to break free of my shackles with my powers. I hadn’t realized until then just how badly they’d degraded since I’d last used them.

  I powered up; I definitely felt the surge of warm energy through my body; I strained, bending all thought on my powers, so they’d be released against the cuffs; I felt a surge of energy ripple through my limbs, going outward.

  The sucky thing was that the bursts of energy that finally escaped through my hands and feet were pathetic little clouds of weak stuff that did nothing more than warm the metal.

  “Christ,” I ground out, watching the last lame attempt dissipate in the air. “What the hell was that? I’m not blasting energy. I’m blasting farts!” I sagged against the table for the hundredth time and stared desperately at the wooden beams and flickering fluorescent lights above me. “So much for Plan B.”

  On the next table, I could hear Freddie alternately grunt and yawn as he struggled to free himself as well. I turned to watch him, feeling defeated.

  “Hey, how about transforming into something that can wriggle out of your cuffs?” I suggested. Hopefully I didn’t sound too sarcastic, but I was at my wits’ end, and, man, I needed to pee so badly. The hypothetical situation I came up with when I regained consciousness? It wasn’t hypothetical anymore.

  “I can’t,” Freddie snarled as he tugged at the shackles holding his feet down. “I can only transform into something that’s about my size. Trust me, I’d rather be able to turn into a cat or a hamster, but my masking powers have limits. At least at this stage of my development. Only magical types can do stuff like that.”

  I frowned, mulling things over. “How about transforming yourself into a giant hamster—like—human-sized? At least your feet will be small enough to slip through the cuffs.”

  Freddie stopped and stared at me with that, “Do you ever listen to yourself talk?” kind of look. “A man-sized hamster,” he echoed blandly and rolled his eyes when I nodded in desperate hope. “Sorry, but my powers allow me to transform into people and animals au naturel.”

  I perked up. “Naked?”

  “No, no! I mean—realistic, you know? Not blown out of proportion or exaggerated or anything.”

  “Crap. How about an animal with small feet that’s about your human size?” I prodded. “Can you think of something? Does it have to be a real animal, or can you mess around with mythical things, too?”

  Freddie fell silent as he thought things over. “So far I’ve only been aware of real animals,” he confessed. “What mythical kinds are you thinking about?”

  “God, I don’t know. I just need to get out of here and get to the toilet before I embarrass myself. Just—whatever you do, don’t try to change into Medusa.”

  “Medusa used to be a woman, dude.”

  “She’s got snakes for hair. That counts for being a part of the animal kingdom. Besides, she freaks me out, and I don’t want to turn to stone just by looking at you.”

  “Whatever. Okay, wait. Let me think.”

  “Don’t think too long, ‘kay?” I urged. I left Freddie alone for a bit and continued with my sad, sad attempts at breaking free with fart blasts. God, how the mighty had fallen! Nothing happened; more weak surges of energy, more lame puffs of the same stuff escaping my hands and feet. I was growing tired by the minute, and it wasn’t long before I had to give up completely. Now I knew what Freddie meant when he said he’d always wanted a siesta break after using his powers.

  “It’s hopeless,” I said, panting, and then called out to Freddie, “Hey, how’re you doing back there?”

  “Got it!”

  Just as I was about to look at him, a sudden flash of light burst from the table where he lay, and I had to turn away and pinch my eyes shut with a small yelp of surprise. Did he do it? Did he transform, finally?

  I waited a few seconds to make sure that he finished.

  “Dude, you rock!” I breathed, elated, and turned my head to look.

  Then I shrieked and nearly
pissed my pants.

  “Uh—I guess this isn’t a good choice,” Freddie said with a sheepish little laugh.

  Only it wasn’t Freddie—his human form—that looked at me from the table. It was this gigantic octopus or squid, practically dwarfing the table with its slimy, wet bulk. Tentacles dangled off the edges of the table and collected on the floor. From where I lay, I managed to spot a massive tentacle being held down by one of the metal cuffs. I strained to catch a glimpse of Freddie’s feet—or what used to be his feet—and saw that a tentacle was also shackled at the other end of the table, and it was most likely that two more tentacles were held down at other points as well. In a bizarrely poetic way, the sight could be regarded as…poignantly symbolic to animal rights activists.

  “What the hell is that?” I demanded, still freaked out. My voice sounded like I’d just been castrated.

  “I—uh—I’m supposed to be a kraken. A miniaturized version, anyway; otherwise, I’d be burying this whole warehouse with seafood material. A kraken’s supposed to be a mile wide or something.”

  “I thought you said the size has to be realistic!”

  Freddie shrugged. I’d never seen a squid shrug before. It was a very enlightening moment for me, to say the least.

  “Dunno. It looks like it’s easier to take a giant and shrink it than take a small animal and enlarge it. Look, I’m still working on my powers. This came as a surprise to me, too, you know. Besides, you asked me to test out mythological things, so don’t come around riding my black ass if I gave you what you want.”

  Giant-ass seafood was mythological? “You’re a squid! How’re you going to get us out of here? I mean, look! You’ve got tentacles that are still held down!” I paused, frowning at them. “Damn. Does that hurt? Your tentacles look like they’re about to pop.”

  “Yeah, it’s a little…tight, now that you mention it.”

  I sighed as I watched him test his bonds, which did not look very pretty. In the end, he just cussed and stopped, complaining of restricted blood flow—if squid had any blood, anyway.

  “Your tentacles are too big!”