Superhero (An Action Thriller)

by Victor Methos

  The man began tearing at her clothes.

  Jack flipped into the air and landed silently next to the car. He was no more than three feet from them but they hadn’t seen him. He tapped the man gently on the shoulder. The man spun, surprise causing him to gasp.

  “There’re easier ways to get a date,” Jack said.

  The man’s lip curled slightly. He swung his gun around and fired.

  As if he were watching the scene in a movie, Jack could see where the bullet was going. He shifted his weight just to the right and the slug zipped past him. Like a man with chopsticks catching a fly, Jack snapped out his arm and caught the slug before it was out of arm’s reach.

  The man’s eyes were wide and Jack flipped the slug toward him, hitting him in the chest.

  “What the fuck are you?” the man gasped.

  Attempting to fire again, the man abruptly realized he was shooting at air. Nothing was there. He stood up, the gun in front of him, and walked out from between the cars. He looked to the left and right, but didn’t look up in time to see Jack falling through the sky, his arms folded over his chest, his legs straight, his heels parallel to the ground.

  The man only heard a wisp of air as Jack’s heels crushed his sternum and collarbone. The man couldn’t breathe and blood and spittle foamed at his mouth as he lay on his back, looking up helplessly at the creature above him.

  “What are you?”

  Jack looked up. The woman was standing there, holding her torn blouse up to her exposed chest.

  “I’m…a dragon.”

  It was the first creature that came to Jack’s mind. He turned from the woman and sprinted away, leaping twice before he was too high for her to see.

  CHAPTER 31

  Jack awoke the next morning to the sound of someone opening his bedroom door. He was up and out of bed so quickly, he startled Heidi who held a tray with breakfast.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  She placed the tray down on a side table. “Where were you last night?”

  “Testing the suit.”

  “How did it go?”

  He grinned as he dipped some toast into his eggs and took a bite.

  “That good, huh?” she said.

  “I did things last night…impossible things.”

  “It’s hard for you to see, but, essentially, you’re not just human anymore, Jack. You’re a hybrid between humanity and whatever species it was that developed berridium. And there’re only two of you in existence.”

  Jack nodded as if he had already thought of this. “I’m going for Agamemnon tonight.”

  “You’re not ready.”

  “I can’t imagine that he’s more powerful than me.”

  “Well imagine it because he is. His doses of berridium were far in excess of yours. He’s flung over to the other side of the spectrum and much more closely resembles the foreign species while you retain a predominantly human biology.”

  Jack took a sip of orange juice. “I can hear the city. Like it’s a person and it’s speaking to me. I hear people crying for help.” He paused, emotion clearly choking him. “There’re so many. I had no idea there were so many.”

  “Is that what you were doing last night? Helping people?” He didn’t respond. “Jack, I know you think you can use these new…powers to benefit everyone, but that’s not how it works. They’ll turn on you. People are unappreciative. They won’t stand for someone this superior to themselves, even if you are trying to help them. They will try to destroy you if they find out about you.”

  “A child was in a car accident last night. The car was on fire; I heard him screaming. His mother was being held back by firemen. I flipped the car over and got him out. What do you think I could’ve done? Just ignored it? I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself, Heidi. I have to help.”

  She shook her head. “You’ll have to learn the hard way then.”

  Reese Stillman stood in the middle of the empty lot, leaning against the truck he had stolen. A joint dangled from his mouth and every once in a while he would take a puff. He was getting too high and wished he’d mixed the weed with tobacco.

  He was alone, as Agamemnon had ordered. Once, he didn’t mind being alone. He had even thought it made a person stronger. But now he had to have other people around. Deep down, he knew it was a type of fear. Something no one in the Myrs would’ve tolerated. But that’s all he saw there anyway. Little boys running around in the dark, not acknowledging their fear. All except Agamemnon, who truly seemed to lack fear. But he was barely human anyway.

  He’d never spoken of how he had attained the size and strength he had, or what his suit, which enabled him to jump a hundred feet in the air and have bullets bounce off him, was made of, but Reese had his suspicions. When he had been a boy, he moved around a lot and had been exposed to diverse ideas. He’d heard of experiments the government did on people. That the CIA used acid on people that didn’t know they were being drugged. He guessed the government did a lot that people didn’t know about.

  He heard something farther down the dirt road that led up to this lot. Lights blinked in the distance and a van came roaring up. It pulled to a stop in front of Reese. Two men sat up front and a third opened the sliding door. He looked at Reese. The man was bald expect for black hair on his temples and he wore a tracksuit. The men stared at each other before Reese threw his joint on the ground and opened the door to the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  The men in the van got out and removed something that appeared heavy. It was circular and made of metal. They secured it in the bed of the truck with cables and chains and then climbed back into the van and drove away.

  Reese started the truck and glanced to the device in the back. He knew what it was; he was the only one in the organization that knew other than Agamemnon.

  It was death.

  He put the truck in drive, and took off down the dirt road.

  CHAPTER 32

  Veronica Gables waited outside the hospital room. She checked the digital recorder in her pocket and her ID badge that showed she was a reporter with the Times and with channel seven. She’d excused her camera crew to the cafeteria. Interviewees like this one had to be prepped first. If she had shoved a camera in her face, she would’ve recoiled and told them to go to hell. After two years chasing stories, Veronica was amazed at just how much she had learned about human behavior in such a short time.

  The hospital door opened and a doctor stepped out and smiled at her. She smiled back and waited until he was far down the hall before going into the room and shutting the door behind her.

  Inside, a woman sat on a chair next to a hospital bed. A child, no more than one or two years old, lay on the bed. He had a few burn marks on his forehead and cheeks but nothing too severe. Veronica walked near and the woman looked up.

  “Mrs. Klipfel?” Veronica said.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Veronica Gables. I’m with the Los Angeles Times. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  The woman turned back to her child. “I already had two reporters try to get in here with their cameras and I told them I didn’t want no cameras in here.”

  Veronica grinned. “I don’t have any cameras. It’s just little old me.” She immediately felt foolish for phrasing it that way and cleared her throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to check on you and Andrew. How’s he doing?”

  “Doctor said he’s fine. Just some minor burns and a dislocated shoulder. He’s lucky God was looking out for him.”

  “It wasn’t God you described to the police.” She quickly added when she saw the woman’s face, “I mean, the man, or whatever it was, that you described didn’t sound like an angel.”

  “No, he wasn’t an angel. Not in the Biblical sense anyway.”

  “What did he look like exactly?”

  “He was big. Very muscular. Like a bodybuilder or something. He was tall too. Maybe six foot.”

  “Did he drive down there or…how did he get down there?”


  “I don’t know. One second he was just there. He was next to the car and he just walked through the smoke and the fire like it wasn’t there.”

  “What did he do then?”

  “He lifted one side of the car and flipped it over. It wasn’t hard, he did it softly. I guess to not hurt my boy. Then he ripped off the door and pulled my boy out. Tore his car seat right out of the car and came and handed him to me.”

  “He came up to you? Did he say anything?”

  “He just said ‘take care of him.’ That was it.”

  “What did his face look like?”

  “It was covered with a mask. It was like a black mask, like the uniform he was wearing. But the eyes were white.”

  “Did he mention what his name was?”

  “No. He didn’t say nothing else. After he gave Andrew to me, he just ran off and disappeared.”

  “What do you mean disappeared?”

  “I mean disappeared. He kinda twitched or something and was gone. I ain’t never seen anyone move so fast.”

  Veronica asked a few follow-up questions and then thanked the woman for her time. Now wasn’t the place for an on-camera interview. She would hit her up later at her home, once she didn’t have the image of her son in a hospital bed right in front of her.

  Veronica took the elevators down to the cafeteria, thinking about a masked man gently flipping over a car. Reports had come in over the past few years of another man, one that called himself Agamemnon, but this sounded entirely different. People that had seen Agamemnon reported that he was probably eight feet tall and had a helmet as well as a mechanical device attached to his throat.

  This city’s getting too freaky for me.

  She got off on the lower level and followed the signs to the cafeteria. Her cameraman, Jeff, and her sound guy, Steven, were stuffing their faces with Cheetos and Mountain Dew.

  “You guys ready to go?”

  “Yup. She ready?” Jeff said.

  “We’re not interviewing her today. She’s too shook up. I wanted to follow something else.”

  “What?”

  “A victim of a sexual assault reported someone injuring her attacker and then flying away. I disregarded it at first, but I think I’d like to talk to her now.”

  Steven took a large gulp of Mountain Dew. “Where do you hear all this stuff?”

  “Cops,” she said, taking a Cheeto. “You gotta love the low salaries. They love gifts. Come on, let’s get going.”

  Veronica stepped out of her Mercedes and signaled to Jeff and Steven to stay in the van. They were in a quiet residential neighborhood that probably didn’t see too many news vans. Already, people had gathered on their porches, wondering what was going on. She quickly texted Jeff to pull into a different street and the van started up and took off.

  Veronica checked the address in her iPhone and looked to the numbers on the small blue home in front of her. They matched and she walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell.

  It took a few more rings before a young woman in a UCLA sweatshirt answered.

  “Yes?” she said, leaving the screen door closed and locked.

  “Are you Jessica Dillon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jessica, my name is Veronica Gables. I’m with the LA Times and Channel 7 News. I’m following up on the police report you filed today.”

  The girl looked confused. “How did—”

  “It’s perfectly routine. I promise you that we won’t talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. I’m just interested in the man that you said hurt your attacker. Apparently he matches the description of someone else that witnesses said saved the life of a child. I just want to learn a little bit more about him.”

  Jessica nodded before unlocking the screen door and stepping outside. “What’dya want to know?”

  “Did you see where he came from?”

  “No. I was on the ground. This guy…he tried to grab me and when I went to run he pulled on my legs and got me on the ground. He was on top of me and this other guy just appeared and said something to him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said ‘there are easier ways to get dates’ or something like that.”

  “Hm. What happened then?”

  “The guy that was attacking me, he tried to shoot the other guy. But the other guy like disappeared and then was just on top of him. He hurt that guy bad.” She paused. “I wish he would’ve killed him.”

  Veronica nodded. “I’m very sorry you had to go through this, Jessica.”

  She glanced away at a car that was passing by on the street. “Yeah, well…”

  “The man that saved you, what did he look like?”

  “He was wearing, like, black spandex or something. Really tight. And he had a mask on, and it was black with whites on the eyes.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “Yeah. I asked him who he was.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he was the Dragon.”

  “The Dragon?”

  “Yeah. But he didn’t say it in his normal voice. It was weird. He like growled it really loud. It was weird.”

  “Jessica, is there anything else you can think of that I should know?”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s it. I heard the guy that attacked me is on a respirator ‘cause he can’t breathe on his own. Is that true? That’s what the cops said.”

  “I think it is.” She placed her hand gently on Jessica’s shoulder and then reached into her purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. “If you think of anything else that might help me find the man that helped you, or if you just need anything at all, you call me. Okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Veronica walked out to the sidewalk and began making her way back to her car.

  The Dragon, huh? Well, Dragon, let’s see if you can hide from me.

  CHAPTER 33

  Jack sat across from William on the veranda of the trendy café in Beverly Hills. He took out his badge and department issued firearm and slid them across the table.

  “You sure about this?” William asked. “You just barely got them back.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised. If I had the money you have I’d be on a beach somewhere surrounded by señoritas.”

  “I have a few plans.”

  William stared at him a moment. “You’re not thinking of going after who I think you’re going after, are you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, William. Old age is going to your head.”

  “Old age? I’m forty-seven, you jerk bastard.”

  Jack smirked. “I need your help, William. I can’t take him down on my own.”

  “You shouldn’t be taking him down at all. Leave it to us. The Feds are building a case against him too, on RICO charges. We’re talking twenty to life.”

  “And how are they going to arrest him? A tank like in Waco? They don’t do that anymore. The backlash from Waco and Ruby Ridge cut their powers. They’re not a paramilitary unit anymore. A bunch of guys in SWAT uniforms followed by a bunch of guys in suits will try to take him down. He’ll plow through them like a train.”

  “Then they’ll send the military in.”

  “I don’t think they can do anything either.”

  William laughed. “You telling me one man is more powerful than our entire Armed Forces? Then why hasn’t he made his move yet? Why not just take us out and take over the whole damn country?”

  Jack shook his head, staring off at a man bicycling across the street. “I don’t know. He has something planned. I can feel it. But I don’t know what it is.”

  “Jack! Listen to yourself. This guy will take one shot to the dome and he’s done. You don’t need to get all doomsday on me.”

  Jack realized he wasn’t getting through to him. He remembered something Emerson had written: “What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.”

  Jack
took the clip out of the gun that was sitting on the table. He bent the barrel and twisted the grip and trigger guard up, forming it into a ball. It was like something you’d see in a cartoon, except it wasn’t funny now. Using both hands, he squeezed it into a perfect sphere of metal and placed it back on the table.

  William’s mouth had fallen open. He sat in stunned silence, staring at the metal ball on the table. The waitress came over to take their order and she had to ask him three times if he was ready before she turned to Jack.

  “We’re not quite ready, thank you.”

  William reached over and picked the gun up. He twisted it in his fingers a few times and then placed it back down before looking up at Jack.

  “And he’s more powerful than I am,” Jack said.

  William sat a few more moments, staring at the ball of metal and then said, “All right. What do we need to do?”

  CHAPTER 34

  Jack was at a local gun store when he happened to glance up at the flat screen that hung on the wall. It was the mid-afternoon news on channel seven. A young reporter with dark, chestnut hair spoke about the heat wave that was roasting the city before she turned to another reporter, a blond with fake breasts, whose name appeared in a graphic underneath her face. It was Veronica Gables. Veronica was on location at the scene of an accident.

  “And now, our own Veronica Gables has an update on the vigilante Good Samaritan that saved the life of a two-year-old Burbank child. Veronica.”

  “Thanks, Darlene,” she said. “For those of you that haven’t kept up on the story, two-year-old Andrew Klipfel was pinned underneath his mother’s Chrysler minivan when she flipped the car after what the police are saying was an incident of texting while driving. The toddler was pinned in his car seat when the gas tank was ignited by a spark and the vehicle caught fire.”

  The image shifted to a police officer.

  “We think it may have been a faulty spark plug or something along those lines,” the officer said. “Something you wouldn’t expect or could prepare for in a million years. But lightning had to strike and it struck here.”