Council of Evil (21 page)

“That's not the way, Hunter!” Chameleon shouted, slowly climbing to his feet. “Killing him will solve nothing.”

“It'll make me feel a whole lot better. Then you're next!”

“That means you'll be leaving the Core Probe active.
Stopping
that
is the only way you'll stay alive. You have no time to kill either of us.”

Chameleon was right. Jake hesitated, then realized that Chameleon had just saved Basilisk's life. There was a sudden crack above them and a chunk of the ceiling gave way. Lava poured through it like a fiery waterfall. The air rippled from the intense heat, and the molten rock formed a thin curtain between Jake and Chameleon.

“We don't have time for this, Hunter. None of us has protection from being consumed by lava! Not even you.”

The room shuddered more violently and the lava began to pool on the floor, spreading with the consistency of thick porridge. Jake squinted at the superhero.

“We're not finished, Chameleon.”

Then he sprinted toward the door.

It was almost impossible to run in a straight line; the base was shaking so violently that Jake was pinballed against the walls of the corridor until he entered the cavern.

It was like entering a furnace. The far wall glowed red as magma flowed under the thin veneer of rock; it was only a matter of time before it all broke through. Already thin streams of lava poured through cracks in
the ceiling. Molten rock slowly edged toward the wide borehole in the floor that the Core Probe had left behind. If the lava started to flow into the hole before he got into it, Jake knew there was no way he would be able to enter it and stop the Probe. He'd wasted precious time venting his rage against Basilisk, and now he could not afford to hesitate any longer. He took a running jump and dived headfirst down the Core Probe's tunnel.

There was very little room for maneuver in the tunnel, and the walls were red-hot from the Probe's passing. He zipped through an empty magma cave, the flow having erupted outside, and he dived back into the opposite borehole. The machine had gained substantial speed as it burrowed through the igneous rock. Jake activated his enhanced sight so he could see the Probe below. The heat prickled his skin all over and was beginning to penetrate through his jeans. Jake thought it must be like standing inside an oven. If he activated his radioactive power he would be resistant to the heat, but then ran the risk of being unable to grab the Probe and stop it, as his hand would just melt through the metal casing.

The Probe was now several feet below him. Jake acrobatically flipped around and landed on his feet, then
maneuvered his legs to straddle the nuclear bomb strapped to the center. Basilisk's technicians had thoughtfully attached a small electronic counter to the bomb.

He had little over a minute.

“How do you defuse a nuclear bomb?” he said aloud. Then he remembered the wire Basilisk had pulled. Jake's fingers scrabbled for the only two wires that ran from the side of the machine into the warhead. He examined them and his heart sank.

They were both black. That is, the red and blue wires were indistinguishable through his tinted super-vision. It was as though he'd been struck color-blind.

“No!” he yelled and tried to will the power away. But it was no good. If he pulled the wrong wire the bomb would detonate between his legs.

He placed his hands around the warhead and pulled. The metal spars securing it groaned a little, but held tight. Jake tugged again, but his legs were shaking from the constant motion of the descent. It was like trying to lift something in a plummeting elevator.

The Core Probe gave a final shudder as it punctured a huge subterranean cavern—and was suddenly free-falling with Jake perched on top.

The cavern floor was a massive river of rolling magma that streamed from an opening in one wall and vanished through another with a rumble that numbed
his ears. The entire vista was illuminated by the hellish red glow of the flowing rock, and the incredible heat seared his skin and burned his hair and eyebrows. If the Core Probe's heat shields had not been taking the brunt of the heat from below, then Jake was sure he would fry to death. An acrid burning smell assaulted his nose, and Jake felt it begin to bleed from the heat.

Without conscious thought, he launched himself into flight as the Probe dropped through the cavern—supporting it in midair above the magma river. His superior strength prevented him from dropping the Probe, but his flying power wasn't generating enough lift.

He was at a stalemate.

If he dropped the Core Probe into the magma, it wouldn't melt, but would continue its course downward and Jake would be unable to follow. But conversely, he didn't have the power to pull the Probe out.

Jake glanced at the countdown and resisted the urge to panic.

He looped one arm under the warhead and as soon as he had freed his other hand, he felt the weight of the entire device pull him toward certain death.

Jake flexed his claws and swiped them hard at the metal brace securing the warhead. Sparks flew and it felt as though his fingernails were being torn from their sockets. However, when he looked, he had managed to
snag a chunk of metal away. The Probe dropped lower; the cutting dome was now touching the surface of the magma.

Jake's eyes stung from the heat and fumes. He struck again and one of the spars snapped. The Probe dropped farther into the volcano and liquefied rock spat at him. A tiny piece of molten rock caught the sole of his boot and hissed through the rubber.

Jake was a foot and a half away from the magma now, and with every ounce of strength he swung at the remaining strut. His claws severed the metal and the Core Probe dropped into the fiery liquid with a spurt of flame, the warhead now cradled under his arm.

Without the additional weight Jake shot upward like a cork underwater. The narrow Probe tunnel rushed past his ears just as lava started to trickle in from the hangar above.

Without stopping, Jake zoomed out of the hole in the hangar's floor and through the entrance tunnel in the ceiling.

He shot out of the ground just as the volcano erupted again. Part of the cone wall collapsed at an angle, spewing lava into the entrance of the base and across the jungle. Wildfires erupted across the island, but Jake had no time to marvel at the spectacle.

A mile above the island he drew to a stop. He was holding a nuclear warhead in his hand—with less
than fifteen seconds on the countdown—and no way to stop it.

Jake had nothing to lose. He couldn't fly fast enough to outrun a nuclear explosion. Instead he willed a radioactive charge through his body and into his hands. His hands started to glow an unearthly green. The warhead's outer skin began to melt under his radioactive hands. The volcano spat another volley of lava into the sky, which fountained not far from Jake.

He could feel the warhead vibrate as the electronic ignition activated the fusion processes. He increased the pressure on the warhead, gouging his fingers in deep. Then he grunted, using every ounce of strength …

… and tore the warhead in half.

Sophisticated components and radioactive substances half-melded together under his mighty radioactive grip, flew in opposite directions, and harmlessly dropped into the ocean.

Jake whooped with delight and dived low, performing a victory roll. Jubilant, he skimmed the whitecaps around him, enjoying the gentle sea spray that cooled and refreshed him. With the warhead gone, Villain.net was saved.

He wasn't going to die.

All he had to do now was face Basilisk and Chameleon, if they hadn't torn each other apart.

Vengeful thoughts slipped from his mind as he felt a
sudden weakness—as if all the energy had seeped from his body. Jake plummeted into the warm waters.

His superpowers had just expired.

Panic seized him. The island beach was not too far away, but the island itself was on fire. Lava oozed down the volcano's flanks and hit the ocean with a loud hiss and massive plumes of white steam.

Jake spotted a clear patch of beach shielded from the lava streams and paddled weakly toward it.

It took all his strength to drag himself out of the water and across the white sand. He lay limp, facedown, and slipped into unconsciousness.

Jake looked at the bare stone walls with a blank expression. A table stood in front of him, on which he rested his shackled hands. The small interrogation room had a pair of Enforcer guards standing armed and alert on either side of the only door.

Chameleon, in his natural guise as a young man, sat opposite.

Jake had a vague memory of people landing on the beach and the rhythmic thump of helicopter rotors. He had seen Chameleon's face, but thought it was just part of a feverish dream. Then he had woken in a small cell with a narrow window through which stabbed a lone finger of sunlight.

He was now a prisoner of Diablo Island Penitentiary, and Chameleon was taking great delight in taunting him.

“You should get a medal,” said Chameleon. “You stopped a disastrous plan.”

“Then let me go,” said Jake quietly, although he already knew that was never going to happen.

Chameleon shook his head. “You'd only try and kill me. And that would land you right back here, wouldn't it?”

Jake couldn't deny it. All he had done from the start of the interview was threaten Chameleon, until he eventually shut up when he realized the futility of it. He'd bide his time instead.

“Your part in Basilisk's evil plans is undeniable. Since he miraculously escaped from that island, you're even more valuable to us.”

“You let him go?” Jake said, incredulous.

“He escaped. I pursued him and thought I had him cornered. Then he vanished. He was too weak to have used his powers. I suspect an accomplice rescued him.”

Jake's interest was tweaked. Who could have saved Basilisk? Surely not Doc Tempest—he had betrayed him.

“We found your three friends in Moscow. They had nothing nice to say about you. In fact, we're still trying to fathom
what
it was that you did to Warren Feddle.
What do you call him? Ah yes, Scuffer. You mutated him almost beyond recognition. And he's
very
eager to get his hands on you. An encounter I would strongly advise against. We have no idea what we'll do with him.”

Jake scowled. So Scuffer had survived whatever he'd done to him? He should pay the traitors a little visit, with his superpowers of course, once he got out of here. It seemed all of Jake's enemies were not only alive, but a whole lot freer than he was.

“But that is all irrelevant compared to your true value.” Chameleon took a sip of water from his glass, and absently shot his tongue out across his lips. “Amplifying the powers held on Hero.com. Now that is something truly special. And until we learn how to harvest that power, you will continue your residence here as our … uh … guest. Until the Enforcers can convene a trial. Then you'll be our prisoner, won't you?”

Chameleon smiled at him. Jake swore as the guards pulled him out, but without superpowers he was just an average kid, unable to resist the huge men. They threw him roughly into his cell and slammed the door shut. Multiple locks clicked in place, and one of the guards brushed a smudge from the nameplate on the cell door, which read, “THE HUNTER.”

* * *

Jake lay on his hard bed rubbing the marks left by the cuffs. He had not accessed any superpowers for several days and felt nauseous and weak. The medical staff had given him some pills that had kept him going, but Jake knew that even if they opened all the doors, he would not have the strength to walk out.

Once again he considered the line between hero and villain, but it was complicated. Basilisk was a villain, willing to detonate a nuclear bomb to bring down
other
villains, and Chameleon was a hero who had not hesitated to wipe his existence from his family's memories and showed no mercy to Basilisk's men when he had killed them.

Jake had been used by Chameleon to track down Basilisk, and also used by Basilisk to try and destroy the Council of Evil. And now the good guys were using Jake as a guinea pig.

He hated both sides. It seemed the only true line of justice lay with him alone. He promised himself that he would never be used again, and if there were any power and glory to be had, it would be solely his. He would not stop plotting to get out of this prison, and then he would track down
both
sides and make them pay for their actions.

They'd wish they had never heard the name Jake Hunter.

Jake lay back and savored the thoughts of revenge. As
he did so he noticed something solid was tucked under his pillow. He reached underneath and slid out a small mobile phone. He blinked in surprise.

There was a single text message waiting for him.

With a frown, Jake opened it. As he read, a broad smile crossed his lips.

The future suddenly promised to be
very
interesting….

Done fighting on the side of treachery and evil?
Want to get in touch with your heroic side?