by Ekeke, C. C.
He marched to the front door, unlocking the door, and opening it.
Silence permeated the house, cancelling out his superhearing.
Hugo’s worry deepened. He scanned the living room and found two occupants.
Mom sat on the couch in sweats, frizzy hair in a ponytail. Her tanned skin had a grey pallor.
Hugo gawked at her guest, a lean man in a button-down and slacks, trimmed salt-and-pepper hair combed back. His midnight-blue eyes shifted to Hugo. He flipped a switch on a small tube in his hand.
Sounds in the house returned simultaneously. The fridge whining. Mom and her guest’s breathing. Definitely a noise silencer, which trapped sound within a radius the user could control.
Spencer Michelman’s father offered a smile. “Good afternoon.”
Hugo closed the door and rushed him in an instant, hoisting Michelman up one-handed. The doctor gagged.
“You motherfucker!” Hugo roared. “Threatening…my mom?”
“Bogota!” Mom got in front of Hugo, cupping his face. “Ezra just wants to talk.”
Hugo looked from her to the man dangling in his grip. With considerable hesitance, he lowered him down.
Michelman coughed, loosening his collar in discomfort. “I was passing the time with your lovely mother.” He sounded hoarse. “You weren’t answering your cell.”
Hugo gritted his teeth, forgetting to turn both cells back on after patrolling. Whatever. Unless this was about Spencer, Hugo had nothing to say. “What do you want?”
Mom frowned at Hugo’s rudeness.
Michelman swallowed hard. “I apologize for the other day. There are matters we should discuss.”
“Fine.” Hugo raised his hands then dropped them impatiently. “Talk.”
Michelman shook his head. “We need to drive out of town.” This wasn't a suggestion.
Hugo wanted him gone. He opened his mouth to tell this sellout off.
Mom clearly sensed his hostility and intercepted. “Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”
Hugo glared down at Michelman, who didn't flinch. “We’ll see.”
Spencer’s father kissed Mom’s hand, smiling. “It’s been a pleasure, Savelina.”
Mom resembled a deer in headlights. “Be safe, Bogota,” she said robotically.
Hugo didn’t like Michelman’s familiarity with Mom, or her reaction. What did he say to her? “Don’t worry, Mom. Love you.” As Michelman stepped outside, he gave his mom a questioning look.
She waved him off, noticeably irked. Hugo then followed Michelman.
Forty minutes into the drive, neither person spoke. Fun times. Hugo’s mind was a million miles away watching suburbs and vineyards recede closer to San Luis Obispo County’s borders. He could’ve gotten here in under three minutes. “What were you and my mom talking about?”
Michelman snorted. “You and your gifts.”
Hugo’s lips curled into a snarl. He changed topics. “How’s Spencer doing?”
Michelman chuckled. “Powers suppressed, confined to her bedroom, and hating us both.”
The answer stung, but Hugo swallowed it. “Not surprised.”
Michelman gave him a searching stare. “That mind trick you pulled on Spencer? Never seen Titan use his powers that way.” He rolled his eyes at Hugo’s wide-eyed stare. “Your mother told me about your…manifestation.” Mockery laced that last word.
“Huh,” Hugo grumbled. His heart still longed for Spencer, despite her terrible behavior.
“You’re famous.” Michelman turned onto a dirt road. “Even before manhandling Sentinel and Vulcan.”
Hugo liked that even less. “What does that mean?”
“There’ve been rumors for months of Elisabeth training a protégé.”
Hugo was lost. “Elisabeth…Ms. Ortiz! Right…” Hearing his mentor’s first name felt odd.
“I've had my suspicions.” Michelman considered him sternly. “Since we first met.”
Hugo remembered. “The day after the library bombing.” He’d slept over at Spencer’s penthouse. Dr. Michelman and his younger daughter, Rowan, had arrived the next morning. The doctor’s bald shock upon meeting Hugo had been unnerving.
“Your costume is textbook Betty,” Michelman remarked wistfully.
Hugo wasn’t interested in feeding his nostalgia. “Why were Spencer’s powers blocked?”
To his surprise, the doctor shrank from the question. “My family was whole once.” They pulled into another service road. “My wife had forsaken crime and gave us three children. After being the first scientist to give superpowers to baseline humans, I had a government-funded research lab. That’s how I became December.” Michelman raised a hand, sheathing it in twinkling ice. Moments later, his arm returned to normal.
Hugo sat momentarily awestruck. I’m talking to December. But the retired superhero made no sense. “Three children?” Hugo echoed. “Spence only has a sister.”
Michelman's ragged breath was laden with old grief. “Spencer manifested her powers at age seven. Kimura and I tried to help her control them, but her powers were too volatile. One day, she had an outburst during a fight with her twin brother, Patrick, and…” Michelman’s eyes glazed over. “He died.”
Hugo’s throat constricted. “I’m sorry...”
Michelman looked appreciative. “It devastated us. My wife coped by returning to crime. I found out...and had to turn her in.” His gaze sharpened as they approached an abandoned strip mall. “Spencer was destroyed. I didn’t know how to help my baby girl recover…”
Hugo could tell where this story led. “You went to Paxton-Brandt.”
Michelman nodded, driving into a parking space on cracked asphalt. “They helped suppress her powers, wiping them and Patrick from memory. She no longer suffered.”
Hugo chewed on this narrative, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Then you joined them?”
“They saved Spencer.” Michelman also unhooked his seatbelt. “Gave me limitless funds for my work.”
Hugo’s sympathy dissolved. “Like kidnapping and experimenting on supers? Cloning Titan?” He opened the car door. Never had he felt so disappointed. “How can you as a hero condone that?”
Michelman emerged from his car. “Paxton-Brandt wants to improve society,” he replied, sounding defensive. “Sometimes that requires choices we don’t enjoy.”
“Bullshit,” Hugo spat. "There's no excuse for compromising your morals."
Michelman eyed Hugo as if addressing a simpleton. “The Vanguard was a joke even before Titan’s death.” He marched toward the strip mall. “Then you have overpowered corporate prostitots who only care about fame. Or bootleg Titan rip-offs like Tomorrow Man.”
Hugo couldn’t dispute Michelman’s statement about today’s superheroes. But cloning Titan was unforgivable. He studied his surroundings, listening closely. No one was around.
Michelman was still defending himself. “This Titan wouldn’t have my friend’s demons. He would've given The Elite legitimacy.”
The Elite reference confused Hugo, until it didn’t. “Paxton-Brandt wanted their own Sensational Seven,” he breathed.
Michelman looked impressed by Hugo, who towered over him. “The Superior Seven. But we ran into two issues.” He raised a finger. “The clones destabilized after two weeks or less.” Michelman raised another finger. “After the Morningstar scandal, Titan was toxic. So, I aborted the cloning project.”
Hugo clenched a fist, this close to backhanding Michelman across California. “Did you think what a Titan clone would do to Lady Liberty…and Zelda?”
“I didn’t,” Michelman admitted quietly, looking away in shame. “Too high off self-righteousness and ego.” He approached a door for a thumb and eye scan. The transparent entrance slid open. “Being a barely present father.” The doctor entered a dark hallway. “I should’ve been there for Spencer.”
Hugo wouldn’t indulge Michelman’s pity but wouldn’t kick him further. He followed, navigating through gloomy and musty halls. �
�What about the clone that attacked Geist’s team? How’s that heroic?” It struck Hugo how he’d casually mentioned cloning in a conversation. How is this my life?
Michelman glanced back as they turned into another corridor. “Geist survived,” he corrected, noting Hugo’s surprise. “I found him at the Shandon plant, near death. He’d been convalescing under my care within this facility…until he escaped days ago.” Michelman stopped before another door requiring a full body scan, opening an elevator.
Hugo entered after him and was bathed in light. He twisted around, primed for an ambush.
Instead, they stood in a high-tech lab surrounded by screens and blinking wall consoles, like a science fiction show. Hugo wouldn’t have guessed how anything here operated.
Michelman approached a larger flatscreen console, waving his hand to bring up several holograms. “When Geist was here, I started digging.” He spread both hands out. A green US map appeared, above the console. “I learned where Paxton-Brandt was still creating Titan clones.”
Hugo notice the doctor’s wounded stare. “They restarted the cloning project without you.”
Michelman bristled. “Paxton-Brandt CEO, Steve Olin, gave the order himself.”
Hugo couldn’t grasp that decision. “Why would they…?” A farfetched theory surfaced, one so Bond Villain 101 that he guffawed. “An evil Titan clone?”
Michelman again marveled. “The attack on Team Geist was a test. Paxton-Brandt wanted Titan as a villain.” He shivered. “Positioning The Elite as the heroes who defeat him.”
Hugo’s head ached from all this corporate villainy. He rubbed his temples while the queasiness passed. “It’s hard turning a blind eye when friends and family are involved, huh?”
Michelman leaned heavily on the console. “Titan’s legacy won’t be further tarnished. Nor will I allow The Elite to be paraded around like real heroes any longer.” He shook his head.
Hugo folded his arms. He needed more than words. “Show me.”
Michelman brought up profiles for all six Elite members. Thor, Apollo, Nike, Vishnu, Morrigan, and Samson looked as menacing in these pictures as in real life.
“They're former criminals,” Michelman explained, gesturing at the screen, “and baselines. We wiped their minds and their digital footprints before implanting new personalities. A more extreme procedure than Spencer's memory wipe.” He closed his eyes, pain spasming through him.
Hugo frowned, recalling Clint’s dead-end searches. “That’s why no one found anything on The Elite.”
Michelman stared a hole into Thor’s picture. “The Elite's initial purpose were as deterrents in case any superhero or team went rogue.” He glanced at Hugo. “But after Titan died, I suggested they serve a higher purpose. We ran test missions last summer. When failures occurred, we wiped any memories of the tests, made tweaks, and retried.” He ran trembling fingers through his hair. “The team wasn’t ready. But Paxton-Brandt senior staff wanted them active while the world debated over Titan’s successor.”
Hugo made a disgusted grunt. The Elite were just lobotomized puppets. “Jesus…”
“I finished working on The Elite and moved to other projects,” Michelman continued. “Paxton-Brandt started loaning The Elite on black ops missions for the military, always wiping the team’s memories afterward.” The doctor sounded sick. “Paxton-Brandt almost had them squash that recent coup in Amarantha. But cooler heads prevailed.”
Hugo sank to a crouch, sagging under this data dump. For a moment, he longed for a return to being ignorant of all this blatant evil. The wish felt foolish. Confronting forces this dark came with the job. Hugo recalled another part of the attack on Team Geist. “That other speedster with the Titan clone. Was that—?”
Michelman nodded with a wincing look. “Nike.”
Hugo popped up, glowering. “Why are you telling me this?” Michelman confessing his sins to a sixteen-year-old wasn’t random.
The doctor spread his hands wide. “Because I’d forgotten why I gave myself powers so long ago. I must make amends.” His face twisted in hatred. “Paxton-Brandt violated my work, corrupted my daughter. I will have my revenge.”
He pulled a flash drive from his pocket. “Get this to that news site investigating us.”
Hugo raised his brow. Paxton-Brandt knew about SLOCO Daily’s investigation? The notion chilled him.
Michelman turned back to his main console. “I have a few more tasks. Terminating the Titan Protocol will destroy the clones in all of PB’s global sites. Then erase the program, Titan’s stored DNA, and any backups. I’ll access with an anonymous login to not raise any alarms or expose myself…”
Hugo stepped back as Michelman brought up numerous holograms, his face blank with concentration.
After several minutes, red light bathed the room, and a loud claxon blared.
Hugo swiveled around in alarm. “What’s happening?”
Michelman’s typing grew frantic. “Paxton-Brandt’s firewalls are blocking me, even with my skeleton key.” The holograms vanished. Michelman slammed a fist onto the console.
“They locked you out?” Hugo ventured after the lights returned to normal.
Michelman nodded, breathing hard. “My VPN prevented Paxton-Brandt from locating us.” He started typing on his console again. “I’ll try something else.”
Hugo raised a hand to stay him. “I got an idea.” He pulled out his second phone and dialed.
“Hugo!” a youthful voice answered. “What’s good?”
Hugo smiled, thankful that Clint had no life. “Hey, I need a favor.” After some explaining and a skeptical Michelman giving him network access, Clint went to work.
“I’m in,” Clint announced a few minutes later. “How can I hurt Evil Incorporated?”
Hugo exchanged an amazed look with Michelman. Clint was awesome.
“Erase the Titan protocols project from Paxton-Brandt's servers?” the doctor asked.
“Glady,” Clint crowed.
Hugo could’ve kissed him. “Do it,” he and Michelman ordered.
Michelman brought up a globe screen with eighteen different dots winking out one by one. “All done,” Clint announced minutes later. “Except one.”
Hugo frowned. “What?”
“Genex Laboratories near St. Louis.” Clint clarified. “It’s not networked to PB’s intranet like the others.”
“The clones and the databased need to be wiped onsite?” Michelman asked in frustration.
“Yep,” Clint replied. “I’ll send the virus I used.”
“I’ll deliver it,” Hugo announced with a bravery he didn’t feel. “Send a copy of the virus to Dr. Michelman. Thanks, Clint.” He hung up and faced Michelman. “Location?”
“I’ll send it to your phone,” Michelman replied as his console pinged. “Here’s Clint’s virus.” The doctor downloaded the program to a different thumb drive then handed that to Hugo. “Don’t mix that with the one holding the Elite data.”
Hugo eyed the new drive. This didn’t pardon Dr. Michelman, but stopping Paxton-Brandt’s corruption was a start. “Thank you.”
Michelman offered a genuine smile. “Titan would've been proud of you, Hugo.” He headed for whatever teleporting circle had brought them down here. “Let’s get topside.”
Two hours later, Hugo was in costume speeding past the Missouri state line at over 775 miles per hour. Dusk washed away wine-red skies, the sun retreating into the horizon.
Hugo focused on the data streaming through his mask’s eye covers. The Genex compound was forty-three miles east…forty-two…forty-one…
He knew Lady Liberty had told him to stay in San Miguel. But the last Titan clone had to be destroyed. Hugo clenched his jaw and barreled forward.
Twenty-eight miles…twenty-seven…twenty-six…
Open green plains and flaxen wheat fields smeared together from Hugo’s blistering pace.
Seven miles…six…five…
Bare and open plains lay ahead, as Dr. Michelman
had explained. “The facility is thirty miles underground, shielded by reinforced walls and bedrock. You have to make a deep enough impact.”
Upon reaching his destination, Hugo leaped up into maroon skies speckled with sparkling diamonds. Satisfied by his elevation, he dove back down.
He accelerated then, using a self-taught trick. Lush plains rushed up. Hugo thrust his fists out, a purple-and-black bullet punching through soil. He smashed the bedrock beneath to dust, his fists jackhammering through the thick hull reinforcing the complex. His knuckles smarted, but he kept punching repeatedly.
After several more miles, Hugo tasted open air, blaring alarms, and screams.
Two floors, Michelman had stated. Hugo punched through another level, landing on a knee. Superhero landing!
He rose, countless employees fleeing from him. Rooms and corridors were bathed in harsh yellow and ear-splitting alarms. Chunks of earth and shredded metal poured down from the breach he’d made. Hugo could taste the power pumping through these walls. The entire facility thrummed like a living organism.
The floors clanked from thirteen security guards marching to engage, automatic rifles aimed to shoot.
Hugo struck first, a violent blur of motion. Alarms drowned out pained cries and snapping bones.
He dashed to his earlier position, leaving thirteen guards unconscious. Their assault rifles lay tied up into pretzels.
Hugo then searched for a larger computer console. He soon found a display flashing important-looking warnings and sped toward it.
Sticking the virus drive in a USB slot, he stepped back and waited.
Every screen in the facility instantly went crazy, junk code waterfalls flooding their lengths.
Hugo smiled. Clint’s virus would wipe this place’s databases clean regardless of their security. That included DNA samples and video footage. There was one more manual task.
Hugo lapped around the maze-like complex, bursting down every door before finding the right one.
The chamber held more cylinder-shaped tubes than a supervillain lair. Each stood around eight feet, gleaming sinisterly under harsh yellow illumination, humming with electrical energy. All the tubes housed hazy fluids and the same well-built naked man with light-brown skin and long white hair.