“Not initially. But right before you disappeared, I apologized to you for that fight we had two years ago, and I saw a flash of color in your eyes. Literal color. Just like your mother and grandmother. I knew who you were then.”
“Great, betrayed by my genes.” I reflected for a second on that particular legacy of my alien grandmother that my mother and I had both inherited, the physical trait of having our eyes flash color with strong emotions. I can usually keep mine under control, but now I remembered how my eyes had felt irritated when I’d left the roof. I hadn’t even considered that it might have been that specific characteristic of my physiognomy.
“I came by your room a few minutes later to talk to you,” he continued, “but you never answered the door.”
“I wasn’t there,” I said. “I was next door, talking to Smokescreen.”
“Good,” he said with a slight smile. “I was afraid that maybe you were avoiding me. Then, a few minutes later, Paramount asked me to meet him in Mouse’s lab.”
“Where he trapped you.” I was already familiar with this part of the story.
“Yes. But the worst part of that whole thing wasn’t being trapped. It was thinking that I’d missed a golden opportunity to get to know you - especially when it seemed like I’d just found you again.”
“All thanks to my genetically freakish eyes.”
“Don’t discount the value of your genes. They actually saved your life a few days ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember when Paramount used his Bolt Blasts on you? How they didn’t have an effect?”
“Yeah. I was expecting to die then.”
“Well, it’s kind of the way that a scorpion’s venom won’t work on another scorpion. In this particular case, the Bolt Blast doesn’t work on family members.”
Something suddenly occurred to me. “That’s why you shouted for me to cover the door when we were in the vault. You knew his blasts wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Yes, I knew, but you didn’t. You didn’t know, but you did it anyway, even if it meant you’d die.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that. I just knew that people were depending on me.”
“And it’s that type of selflessness that makes someone valuable, regardless of whether they have powers or not.” He suddenly stood up. “Look, I know it’s not going to happen overnight, but I’d like it if we could start working on having some kind of relationship.”
He extended his hand. I stared at it for a moment, then took it. He smiled.
*****
A few days later, Mouse asked me to come by his lab to talk. It was probably the first part of HQ that they completed repairs on – no doubt at Mouse’s insistence. (Rank has its privileges.) When I showed up, he didn’t waste any time on small talk.
“When we had our talk before - after your confrontation on the football field with Paramount - you tried to warn me about him. You knew he was a bad seed, didn’t you?”
I just shrugged and stared off into space.
“How did you know?” he asked.
I sighed. “I’m an empath, and I’ve also been working as a bounty hunter. I’ve discovered that some of the bad ones give off a certain type of emotional vibe. There’s a certain callousness in their personality, a disregard or disrespect for some aspects of common decency.”
“And you picked up on that from Paramount.”
“I felt something along those lines, but…” I stared off to the side, unsure of how much to say.
“But what?”
I let out a long breath and looked Mouse in the eye. “He was a jerk and a bully. He’s not someone I would have ever called a friend or hung out with. But I just couldn’t believe he was all bad, because…”
I took another deep breath. “Because he’s my brother. Alpha Prime…” I trailed off, unable to finish.
He didn’t speak for a moment, then simply said, “I see.”
*****
I left Mouse’s lab feeling wretched about my entire existence. A long-lost father who finally put in an appearance. An evil half-brother who probably wants me dead. My life was nothing but a horrid bundle of overworked clichés. I was so lost in my own world, that I didn’t even notice Electra until she was almost on top of me.
I had seen her in passing over the past few days, but we hadn’t really had a chance to talk. Instead, on those few occasions when we were actually in close proximity, we had simply gone through the motions of exchanging perfunctory pleasantries and then gone our separate ways.
This encounter appeared to be going along the same lines, although extended by us engaging in some additional meaningless chitchat about the weather and whatnot. After that concluded, we both just kind of stood there, each essentially waiting on the other to say something material or worthwhile. When it appeared that that wasn’t going to happen, I took the next logical step.
“So,” I said, slowly meandering away, “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” she said unenthusiastically. “See ya.”
I’d taken maybe five steps when I heard her call out to me.
“Hey,” she said, closing the distance between us as I turned around, “a couple of us are going to that Super-Egos concert this weekend. I’ve got an extra ticket if you want to come.”
I smiled. “Why, Electra, are you asking me on a date?”
“No,” she said, giving me a playful punch on the shoulder. “I’m just trying to apologize for what happened last time…for shocking you and locking you in a nullifier cell.”
“And…?”
She rolled her eyes. “And to thank you for rescuing me when I was tied up.”
“In that case, I’d love to come.”
“Great!” she said, then added with a wink and a smile, “It’s a date.”
I grinned, suddenly gleeful at this happy turn of events. Sure, my life wasn’t perfect, and maybe it was riddled with clichés, but I had a funny feeling that with a little effort, I might really enjoy it.
THE END
MUTATION
(Preview Page)
My job was to be a distraction, to keep Estrella from seeing Li. I shifted into super speed and charged her, catching her in the midsection with my shoulder, then slammed her into a wall.
At super speed, I rarely ever hit anything with my bare hand; it’s a good way to end up with broken bones. Some speedsters don’t care, though; they’re so hopped up on adrenaline that they don’t feel the pain, and their metabolisms are so high that they heal almost immediately. I didn’t feel like testing that theory, and I was in no position to deal with a broken hand, so – while it may not sound gallant – I pistol-whipped Estrella with the gun Li had given me. Then again. And a third time.
Before I could get a fourth turn at bat, she vanished. She had obviously teleported, and my first thought was to check on Li. I’d barely turned my head in that direction when a crushing weight fell on me. Estrella had teleported above me.
Her weight bore me down to the ground, where she cupped my head in her hands, lifted and then smashed it against the concrete floor. I immediately saw stars, as if someone had just put my skull in a car compactor. I tore a page out of her playbook and teleported.
I didn’t go far, just a few feet away. I needed to keep her preoccupied so that Li could finish. I raised the gun and fired as she turned in my direction. The light around her body intensified and the bullets seemed to dissolve. At the same time, I became violently ill. I clutched my stomach, doubled over, and threw up.
I was still heaving when Estrella appeared beside me a few seconds later and kneed me in the face.
MUTATION
A Kid Sensation Novel
By
Kevin Hardman
Chapter 1
Someone once said that invisibility is a power that is really only useful for doing bad things: spying on people; stealing things; playing nasty pranks. Having used my own invisibility to do a couple of those things (I haven’t stolen
anything yet), I tend to agree. In fact, I was currently using it to spy on a couple who were out on a date. Not just any couple, though - the woman on this date was my mother.
To be frank, I hadn’t done anything like this in a long time. Just a few years back, when I was maybe eleven or twelve years old and invisibility was a talent I’d only recently developed, I’d almost made a habit of it. If my mother had a date, I’d wait until they left and then turn invisible. After that, following them was a piece of cake for someone who could fly (as well as phase through walls like a ghost).
Naturally, I didn’t think any man was good enough for my mother back then, so I’d do things like trip her date while they were walking. Maybe knock a drink out of his hand so he’d look like a klutz. Or just go for one of the classics and tie his shoelaces together.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Mom to put two and two together. (What were the odds of her dating a long string of clumsy oafs?) Afterwards, there came a stern lecture from her and my grandfather, with the result being that I never spied on her during a date again.
Until now.
To be clear, however, I hadn’t started out the day intending to tail her. She had already told me earlier in the week that she would be going out, and I really hadn’t given it much thought. The truth of the matter is that Mom is exotically beautiful and gets asked out a lot. She could probably have a different date every night of the week if she wanted, but she’s very selective - purportedly for my sake, since she’s a single mother.
The guy she was going out with was someone I hadn’t met before, but that’s not unusual. Mom only tends to introduce me to her dates after they’ve been going out for a while and when there’s some type of “potential” to the relationship. In other words, the fact that she wanted me to meet this guy meant something.
His name was Malcolm Schaefer, and I greeted him at the door when he came to pick my mother up. Through the generosity of a friend, we were staying at a spacious house in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. Our own home was in the process of being rebuilt, having been burned to the ground by a fire-wielding supervillain named Incendia. (She had also torched the apartment above our garage that my grandfather lived in.)
Schaefer was about average in height and build, with brown hair, green eyes and a smile that probably set most women’s hearts aflutter. Dressed in brown slacks, a white shirt, and a blue blazer, he’d shaken my hand as he came inside, and I’d immediately gotten a weird vibe from him. Being an empath, I normally tune out the emotions of other people, but Schaefer was broadcasting an odd feeling - almost as if he were more excited about me than my mom. I kept my face neutral as my grandfather also came out to meet him, and then we all made small talk until my mother appeared a few seconds later.
Schaefer had commented - as men usually did - on how stunning my mother looked. (I often wondered what they’d think if they knew that part of her appearance came from having an extraterrestrial mother.) Then they had left, but not before he shook my hand again, once more emanating emotions that gave me the distinct impression that something was amiss. Although I knew Mom could probably take care of herself, I wasn’t just going to stand idly by when I knew something was wrong.
So there I was, spending my Friday night as a snoop as opposed to being with the girl I was crushing on: Electra. But this was our last free weekend before leaving for school at the Academy, and Electra had some things she needed to take care of. Thus, we wouldn’t have been together tonight anyway, although we did have some things planned for tomorrow.
As to Schaefer and my mom, they surprised me by doing the same kinds of things that kids like me do on a date. First, they went to dinner - some middle-of-the-road steakhouse that was too cheap to be considered high class, but too expensive to be construed as low-end. Personally, I was a little miffed that he wasn’t pulling out all the stops to impress her: caviar, champagne, the works. Then again, it wasn’t their first outing, so maybe he’d already gone through the spend-a-lot-to-impress-your-date phase.
I floated in the air, unseen, above a family of four eating a few tables away. Upon turning invisible, my vision had - as always - reflexively switched over to the infrared, so I saw the world (and everything in it) in varying shades of crimson, scarlet, and the like.
I watched as my mother and Schaefer made small talk, and as she laughed gleefully every now and then at some witticism he made. I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but I wasn’t listening so much as feeling. I had my empathic senses turned up to the max, and one thing came through loud and clear: Schaefer didn’t exude the feelings of a man who was on a date with a woman he liked.
Normally, the emotions I pick up from a guy on a date run the gamut from nervousness and trepidation to excitement and titillation. They’re dreading the possibility that the date won’t go well, elated by the possibility that the girl might like them, etc. Schaefer, however, gave off the vibe of someone stuck in a business meeting.
After dinner, I followed them to the movies. I spent the first hour literally hovering above them in the darkened theater, and then hunger got the better of me. I hadn’t eaten anything since this impromptu surveillance had begun. (After all, this was not how I had expected to spend my evening.) Plus, they weren’t likely to be going anywhere for a while. That being the case, I phased through the wall and found myself in the hallway leading to the theater.
There were people around, but I didn’t think anyone was really looking in my direction so I solidified and became visible. I walked to the concession stand and ordered a couple of candy bars - not the healthiest of meals, but it’s catch-as-catch-can when you’re on a stakeout. In all honesty, though, I could have just teleported home and wolfed down a sandwich; however, I had essentially snuck into the theater, so I felt I needed to pay for something (even though movie concession prices are a total rip).
I ate the candy bars out by Schaefer’s car. I didn’t need to watch my mom for every second of this date, and they’d have to come back to his vehicle to leave. He drove a limited-edition black Mercedes Benz. Leaning over, I phased through the driver’s window and took a peek inside. The car contained a high-end instrument panel, as well as an impressive entertainment console. There was GPS, satellite music, a DVD screen. Like Schaefer himself, the car seemed too smooth, too slick, and as I phased back out of the vehicle I fought a weird, juvenile compulsion to smear chocolate on the driver’s side door handle.
While waiting for the movie to end, I spent the next hour lying, invisible, on the roof of the Benz, looking up at the stars. There’s something about staring at the nighttime sky that just relaxes me. It always gives me a sense of serenity.
At long last, I heard my mother and her date approaching, discussing the merits of the movie they’d seen. I silently floated up from the roof of the car into the air.
*****
I found myself somewhat relieved that Schaefer drove my mother straight home after the movie. Thankfully, she didn’t invite him in for a nightcap; their goodbyes were said at the door, and punctuated by a short kiss on the lips. Still invisible, I phased through the car door and into the back seat of his vehicle.
Schaefer got back into the car and began driving. After a few minutes, he pressed a button on the entertainment console, and I heard the distinct drone of a telephone dial tone. Apparently there was a phone system built into the car as well.
“Call Nighthawk,” Schaefer said.
The chimes of numbers being dialed on a touch-tone phone sounded, followed by a number of odd clicks. Presumably, the number that Schaefer had dialed was being filtered through various channels in order to minimize the possibility of the call being traced. I sat up, listening intently.
After a few seconds there was an odd, hollow ringing. The phone was answered almost immediately. However, neither Schaefer nor the person on the other end said anything.
“Confirmed,” a male voice on the other end finally said after a lengthy silence. “Line is clear.�
�
“This is Walker, calling in to report.” Schaefer said. “Identification number two-seven-alpha-psi-nine.”
“Voice ID and number confirmed. You are free to report.”
“Contact with target finally established,” Schaefer stated, and I felt the same emotional discharge from him that I’d picked up on earlier when he shook my hand. “Requesting instructions regarding Phase Two.”
“Acknowledged. Pick-up point for Phase Two instructions will be delivered tomorrow.”
“Understood.” With that, Schaefer (or Walker, whatever his name was) hit another button on the console, disconnecting the call.
In the back seat, I was trying to make sense of what I had heard. Schaefer/Walker had mentioned “finally” making contact. It was unlikely that he meant my mother (since he already knew her), and based on what I’d picked up from him emotionally, there was little doubt that I was the target in his crosshairs. Basically, this clown was just using Mom to get close to me, which really got me fuming. But I still had more questions than answers: who was he working with? What did they want with me?
Whoever they were, it was obviously someone who knew that I was Kid Sensation. No one who knew me as Jim Carrow would find me interesting. If asked, they’d probably describe me as a quiet kid, not a troublemaker but a bit of a loner.
For a second, I debated prying the info out of Schaefer/Walker. As a telepath, I can - technically - read minds, but it’s not something I do on a regular basis. Long story short, going deep into other people’s brains makes me physically ill. It’s as if the other person’s mind is the house of a hoarder, fill with all kinds of garbage, trash, filth, and debris. It’s completely unsanitary.
On the flip side, however, I can broadcast my thoughts to people – and pick up surface thoughts and what they willingly want to share – with ease when I want. For me, that’s akin to standing outside the hoarder’s house and communicating with them through an open window. In other words, I don’t get exposed to the unhealthy conditions in their mind that way.
The Kid Sensation Series Box Set Page 17