I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but empathically I was picking up two distinct sets of emotions. The first was an overall sense of smug satisfaction that emanated in triplicate and which I recognized as coming from Alpha Prime’s attackers. The other emotion obviously came from my father, and while there was a slight underpinning of pain from the maces, it was by and large an overwhelming sense of agonizing frustration.
Resentfully, I broke off contact, but I had already made my decision; there was no way I was just going to idly sit by and watch them bludgeon my father – even if it wasn’t really hurting him. At the same time, though, I’d promised to stay in the car – out of harm’s way, as Alpha Prime had put it. Of course, there was a way to kill two birds with one stone here…
I teleported myself and the SUV en masse to the heart of the action, appearing maybe five feet behind the man with the long hair. The moment we arrived, I switched on the vehicle’s high beams and leaned on the horn for all I was worth.
Startled at having someone crash the party, the guy with the long hair spun around so that he was facing me, his free hand raised to shield his eyes from the bright lights of the SUV. He barely hesitated before taking a quick step forward and swatting at the front of the SUV in an upward manner with the mace, like a pitcher throwing a baseball underhanded.
Just before the weapon hit, I phased, becoming insubstantial. Under the force of the impact, the SUV crumpled like an old tomato can (although it passed harmlessly through my ghost-like form) and went flying end-over-end, spewing fluid and debris along its trajectory. It hit the ground about fifty feet away, turning a few cartwheels and throwing off fragments before coming to rest on its side.
With the SUV gone, the guy with the mane of hair lowered the hand that had been shielding his eyes from the vehicle’s high beams. His hair was still wiggling ferociously, as if it had a mind of its own, but that turned out to be his second most-distinguishing feature; the real show pony was his eyes. They glowed with a pulsing, amber light that was almost mesmerizing.
I was entranced. I tried leaning in to get a better look – and then came to the horrifying realization that I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed! I wasn’t even able to break eye contact with him, and was only able to stop staring at those amber orbs when he averted his eyes to peek behind him and check on his colleagues. Even then I still couldn’t move and found myself stuck staring straight ahead to where the other two thugs were still pummeling Alpha Prime. In short, eye contact may have induced the paralytic state that I found myself in, but wasn’t required to maintain it.
I concentrated ferociously, mentally straining so hard to move that I’m surprised I didn’t burst a blood vessel. Nothing worked. I couldn’t even blink.
Now I understood not only why Alpha Prime had stood still while being attacked, but also why he felt so tremendously frustrated. The third attacker had some kind of ability to induce paralysis.
The guy in question passed in front of my line of sight, smiling evilly and tapping the head of his mace into his open palm several times with a satisfying smack on each occasion. (His companions only spared a quick glance in my direction to see what was going on before turning their attention back to Alpha Prime.) Then he swung the weapon at me…and went sprawling off- balance as it passed right through my body.
I was still phased. That being the case – despite the inability to move – I was essentially safe from harm. My assailant didn’t seem to grasp that fact, however. He stood up, dusted himself off, and went back to swinging at me repeatedly, somehow confident that at some juncture he’d make contact with something solid.
Now it was his turn to be frustrated; no matter how hard he tried, it simply didn’t seem possible to inflict any damage on me. That was one piece of good news, and mentally I was tempted to laugh at him.
In addition, my assailant’s preoccupation with me seemingly caused a critical lapse in judgment on his part. While I had no clue exactly how my attacker’s power of paralysis worked (Was it permanent? Did it require continuous effort? What?), he either overestimated its effect on my father, wholly forgot about him, or something along those lines. Regardless, it would prove to be a fatal error.
Alpha Prime was still directly across from me, and a few seconds after my attacker began his relentless assault on my phased form, I saw my father blink. Then he blinked again.
Apparently Retread Fred and Imo didn’t notice, because they never let up with their maces, despite the fact that the weapons were clearly ineffective for the task at hand. The first indication they had that my father had come out of his stupor was when he suddenly reached out, gripped their heads in his hands, and then slammed them against each other like a couple of stooges in a vaudeville show. The sound of their two skulls clacking together was like one coconut being used to crack another one open, and they slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The remaining villain must have either heard the noises to his rear or sensed that something was amiss, because he suddenly stopped trying to hit me and turned to look behind him – or at least tried to. His body had barely moved before Alpha Prime’s hand clamped down on the back of his skull.
Staying behind Mr. Longhair, Alpha Prime spun in a semi-circle and flung the man face-first towards the concrete embankment that sloped down from where the overpass used to be. He hit with bone-breaking force, creating a body-shaped impression in the hardened slab.
As soon as Mr. Longhair hit the concrete, the paralysis vanished. I was able to move again. I stretched, flexed my fingers, and wiggled my toes, taking immense joy in simply being in control of my body again.
“You alright?” my father asked.
“Peachy,” I replied. I glanced around at the three villains, all of whom were still unconscious.
“Good to hear. Now, I thought we agreed–”
Alpha Prime was cut off as a high-pitched beeping suddenly began sounding. My father and I looked at each other, frowning.
“What’s that sound?” I asked, glancing around. It seemed to be coming not from any particular direction, but around us.
“Sounds, you mean,” my father said, as he floated over to where Retread Fred and Imo were lying on the ground, heads nestled together like a pair of lovebirds napping after a picnic.
“Huh?” I was confused, but followed in my father’s wake, floating behind him. The beeping noise began sounding faster, as well as increasing in pitch and volume.
“They’re sounding simultaneously, but there’s actually three sets of beeps,” he answered. “One coming from each of these guys.”
He settled down on the ground next to Imo, then squatted down beside him. A second later, he lifted the big man’s arm. There, on Imo’s wrist, was something that looked like a black watchband. However, in the spot where the actual timepiece should be, there was instead a dark circular crystal that flashed crimson in sync with the beeps we were hearing. In fact, all three of our attackers were wearing the odd wristbands. The beeping increased in tempo again.
Suddenly, Alpha Prime dropped Imo’s arm and stood up. “Jim, get out of here.”
“What?”
“Something’s about to happen here – I don’t know what. You need to get to a safe distance.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“So will I. I can phase, remember?”
Alpha Prime shook his head in the negative, not apparently caring that, in my own way, I was as impervious to harm as he was. Empathically, I could feel his parental instincts overriding what should have been clearly obvious facts and simple logic. Before he could give voice to any argument, however, the beeping stepped up its pace once more, this time becoming a single, annoying, high-pitched tone. Whatever was happening, it was happening right
now.
“Fine,” my father said anxiously. “Phase. Right this second.”
I did as he instructed, but he clearly wasn’t satisfied. Arms outstretched in a protective manner, my father placed himself between me and the three villains. Then he began floating backwards, away from the scene of the battle we’d just had.
It was obvious that he intended for me to stay behind him so I did, but floated high enough to be able to see over his shoulder.
As had occurred when the three had appeared, there was a shimmering in the darkness around our erstwhile attackers. It spread over them, seemed to swallow them up. Then, as quickly as it had come, it faded – apparently taking the three unconscious men (and their weapons) with it.
My father didn’t display any outward emotion, but I felt undeniable relief flooding through him. He was obviously grateful, for my sake, that the beeping hadn’t turned out to be a weapon of any sort.
“Well,” he said a few moments later, “how’d you like getting paralyzed and having supervillains try to bash your brains out?”
“Meh,” I said noncommittally, as I held up a hand and let it waver from side to side. “It’s got its pros and cons.”
“Now you know why I told you to wait in the car.”
“The car!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering. I turned and looked at where it had landed. Alpha Prime followed my gaze to what remained of his half-million dollar SUV, then stared at me like I’d used a stack of hundred dollar bills to start a campfire.
“Well,” he finally muttered, “got anything to say for yourself?”
“Yeah,” I replied, staring at the wreckage. “I think your ‘Check Engine’ light is flashing.”
Chapter 6
I woke up late the next morning. Shortly after showing my father the mangled remains of his SUV, I had teleported home while he stayed at the site of the fight to deal with the official wrap-up of the incident. I was so pumped up, though, that I was barely able to sleep, and when I did finally doze off, it was several hours later, which resulted in me sleeping in.
I raced through my morning routine, getting dressed and washing up at super speed. According to a phone text that had come through while I was sleeping, I was going to be officially debriefed at Alpha League headquarters in about half an hour, and I was eager to get it out of the way. (In all honesty, it should have taken place asap following our fight with the supervillains, but my father had simply told me to go home and worry about it the next day.) I also wanted to talk to Mouse, the de facto head of the Alpha League, before the exhibition later that evening.
Wearing a T-shirt and jeans, I went downstairs to find something to eat. When I entered the kitchen, my grandfather was sitting at the breakfast table reading the morning paper. My mother, per her usual routine, was probably in her office, hard at work on her next novel. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and milk, then sat down at the table across from my grandfather, munching loudly on cornflakes. After a few seconds, my grandfather laid down the paper and mentally pinged me.
I kept eating, but telepathically responded.
Of course, that wasn’t everything and my grandfather knew it; he could always discern when there was more to the story where I was concerned. However, he liked to occasionally display disinterest, even though I knew he was as eager to hear the rest of my tale as I was to tell it. It was kind of a game between us, to see who would break down first.
I smiled, happy to have won this round, and then told him about the fight at the overpass. When I was done, he simply nodded, brow furrowed in thought. It wasn’t an official debrief like I was going to get later, but I always enjoyed getting my grandfather’s insight into a battle.
I didn’t respond. I wondered if Gramps knew exactly how close he was to being accurate with that prediction.
My grandfather laughed.
“It might be,” Gramps said, answering out loud and drumming his fingers on the table. “You do know that the eye connects directly to the brain through the optic nerve, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, the brain controls body movement. That’s why, when telepaths like me get inside someone’s head, we can make them do what we want – shoot a gun, eat dirt, do the Watusi–”
“The what?”
“Never mind,” my grandfather said, waving off my question. “The point is that this guy’s powers sound similar to what a lot of psychics can do.”
“So you think this was some kind of telepathy?”
“Possibly.”
“But if it was telepathy, I should have felt it. I didn’t sense anything like that.”
My grandfather shrugged. “Maybe it was outside your range.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
My grandfather sat silent for a second, obviously deep in thought, before responding. “Think about your vision powers. Normal people can only see across certain wavelengths of light.”
“The visible light spectrum,” I said.
“Yes. You, however, can see across various other wavelengths – infrared, ultraviolet, and more. Wavelengths outside the range of most humans. Most supers, too, for that matter. This guy’s powers may work in a similar fashion.”
I pondered that for a second. “So, you’re saying that this guy’s power may be some form of telepathy that’s outside the range of most telepaths to detect?”
“Exactly.”
“But even if you’re right, how’d he get past my safeguards? Mentally, my brain is full of booby traps – snares, trapdoors, tiger pits. Stuff you taught me to help ward off psychic attacks. How’d he slip past those?”
“If I’m right about him using a form of telepathy you can’t detect, I’d assume that whatever he’s doing just doesn’t trigger your defenses. It’s like you’ve got a spring-gun aimed at the front door but he’s slipping in through the back.”
“That’s just great – a mental cat burglar running around in my brain,” I said disgustedly.
“It could have been worse,” Gramps said.
“How’s that?”
“It could have happened to me,” he said with a grin.
Chapter 7
I spent about another ten minutes hanging out with my grandfather, then teleported to Alpha League headquarters. I popped up in an area that was still undergoing construction, as evidenced by the unpainted walls and lack of carpeting on the floor, among other things. After walking around for a few moments to investigate further, I sighed despondently at the fact that the work was nowhere near completion.
In truth, I was in a suite of rooms that were designated as my future dom
icile. Alpha League HQ had several floors that served as on-site residences, and every League member had their own living quarters here (although few of them were habitable, or even finished, at the moment) – including those of us who were part of the teen affiliate. Historically, however, the teen quarters were seldom used; they were really only here for the few times each year that teen supers were required to stay at HQ for extended training – usually during summer. Still, they were our rooms, and – since I’d been allowed to select a few custom features – I was anxious to see the finished product.
Obviously, finishing the teen apartments wasn’t very high on the list of priorities. I briefly pondered if it would be worth asking Mouse, leader of the Alpha League, to move up the timetable for completion. However, it was a subject I’d have to broach with care, since Mouse had made it clear that he was making some changes to the rooms. In fact, I wasn’t even supposed to be here.
“What do you think you’re doing?” said a disembodied voice that seemed to come from all around me. It was Mouse, of course. Still, having come from nowhere, his voice had startled me slightly and I looked around anxiously for the person speaking.
“Over by the door, genius,” Mouse’s voice said, almost impatiently.
I walked over to where the entrance to my quarters was located. Next to the door, at roughly chest level, a circular plate was set into the wall. The plate contained a numbered pad like you’d find on a phone, and beneath that a flashing green button marked “Intercom/Phone.” I pushed the button and the green light ceased flashing and became steady.
“Now,” said Mouse, with a slight hint of aggravation, “I’ll ask you again: what do you think you’re doing?”
“I just wanted to see if my place was ready yet,” I responded.
“And asking somebody never works, right?”
The Kid Sensation Series Box Set Page 43