The Superhero's Powers (The Superhero's Son Book 4) (23 page)

“So there really is an off switch in my brain after all?” I said, rubbing the back of my head, wondering if I could feel this off switch somewhere.

Hernandez shook his head. “No. I think that it is more likely that Robert puts some kind of disease into your brain that shuts off your powers. I've seen it in a few cases over the years, times when certain superhumans have lost their powers, only for it to turn out that they have all suffered the same general disease.”

“You mean Robert is a plague carrier?” I said. “Like a rat? Because if so, I'm not surprise. He never really bathed all that much.”

“That's not exactly what I mean, but you can believe that if you wish,” said Hernandez. “I came to this conclusion by studying the brain scans of some of his victims. Every time, I have discovered that the structure of their brains has changed; not enough to dramatically alter their personality or memories, but enough to make their powers inaccessible to them.”

“Okay, let's assume your theory is true,” I said. “How do we reactive my brain's powers? Will I have to undergo surgery or something?”

“No,” said Hernandez. “There's no time for that, and besides, I'm no brain surgeon and there are no brain surgeons in the world who understand the superhuman brain enough to make the kind of repairs to your brain that it requires. I'm not even sure it will be possible for another ten to twenty years, at least.”

“So it's hopeless, then,” I said.

“Not exactly,” said Hernandez. He put a hand on the leather case between us. “Do you see this? It contains something I made recently, something I've been working on in private because I do not yet wish to share it with the rest of the world.”

“A box?” I said, staring at the box in confusion. “I don't understand how that is supposed to help me.”

“It's not the box that might help you,” said Hernandez. “Rather, it is what is
inside
the box. Let me show you.”

Hernandez pulled out a key from his front chest pocket and undid the padlock. He opened the box and then pulled out a tiny vial with a shining green liquid that sloshed around inside it. It was very clear liquid, so clear that I could see Hernandez's face right through it.

“What is that?” I said. “It looks like Gatorade.”

“Well, I can tell you that it isn't Gatorade,” said Hernandez. “It is a special serum I made that, if drunk, could allow you—or any of Robert's other surviving victims—to regain control over your powers again.”

My eyes widened. My heart skipped a beat. And I was pretty sure I was starting to sweat a little. I looked at the vial again. I wanted to grab it from Hernandez's hand and drink the whole thing in one gulp, but I was worried that there might be a catch to it. I heard Mimic make a surprised noise behind me, but I paid him no attention.

“Really?” I said. I didn't even say that very loudly, because I was afraid that all my hopes might be crushed if I did. “Can it really do that?”

“In theory, yes,” said Hernandez. “But it is merely a theory at this point. I created this serum with everything I know about neogenetics, but I have never actually tested it, so I do not know what its actual effects on an individual neohero or superhuman may be.”

“How did you create it so fast?” I said.

“Actually, I've been working on this liquid for quite some time now,” said Hernandez. “I first began thinking about it shortly after the Pokacu invasion. I read about the powerless gas that the Pokacu had used to disable the powers of some neoheroes and I wondered if I could create my own serum that could do the opposite.”

“The opposite?” I said.

“As in, give powers to normal humans,” said Hernandez. “I never could get my hands on any powerless gas, however, so I was unable to study it myself. So I relied mostly on residual traces of the gas left on the costumes of certain neohero volunteers affected by the gas who agreed to let me look at their costumes. It helped me understand how the gas works, although not perfectly, I am afraid.”

“Wow,” I said. “So you made a serum that could give people powers?”

“Ah, I am not so sure that it can do that or really anything at all,” said Hernandez. “It may be that it will do nothing or that it might actually kill or even harm whoever drinks it. It shouldn't, because I did not use anything lethal or harmful in it, but there's no telling what will happen once someone drinks this thing.”

“So if it can give normal people powers, do you think it could give me back my powers?” I said.

“Possibly,” said Hernandez. “I had to make some changes to the formula based on my theory of how Robert Candle's power works, so it might be able to do that. It might be able to override Robert's power and unlock your normal powers again.”

“What kind of side effects does it have?” I said.

“As I have said, I don't know,” said Hernandez with a shrug. “I haven't tested it, not even on animals. It might do what I said and give you your powers back … or it may kill you or turn your brain into incomprehensible goop and you into a blabbering idiot.”

“Doesn't sound too different from how the kid is now,” Mimic muttered behind me, but I ignored his jab.

Leaning forward, I said, “I want it.”

Hernandez raised an eyebrow. “Even after my warnings? Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent,” I said. I held out a hand. “I'm willing to risk whatever negative side effects may result as long as I get my powers back.”

Hernandez looked doubtful. “That is all well and good, Bolt, but this isn't merely a liquid with a side effect. Nor are you an old man who doesn't have anything to lose. You're a young man with your whole future ahead of you, and if this liquid is as harmful as I think it is, you could be throwing your whole future away for nothing.”

“What future?” I said. “At the moment, my family and I are in hiding from Robert Candle and probably will be for a long time. If I get my powers back, I'll be able to go toe-to-toe with Robert, and win this time. It seems to me like this liquid is actually the key to my future, whatever its negative side effects might be.”

Hernandez stroked his chin. “Despite your brashness, you sound just like your father did when he was your age. And I was never able to resist your father's demands, so I will give you the liquid, now that you know the risks.”

Hernandez stretched his hand toward mine, but then I heard a
click
behind me and looked over my shoulder to see Mimic standing there with his AR-15 out. But he wasn't pointing at the door or window, two places that Robert might choose to enter; instead, he was pointing at me and Hernandez, his face cold.

“Mimic?” I said. “What's the matter? Did you see something? Did you see Robert?”

Mimic shook his head. “Robert is not here right now. And he is not coming.”

“Not coming?” I said. “How do you know that? We leaked my meeting with Professor Hernandez on Neo Ranks. I'm sure he'll show up eventually.”

“Robert Candle is not the fool you seem to think he is,” said Mimic. “He's well aware that this is a trap set specifically for him. Too bad you aren't as smart as him.”

Mimic did not lower his gun, so I said, “What are you talking about? Have you been in contact with Robert or something?”

Mimic didn't answer. He just said to Hernandez, “Professor, please place the liquid back into the box. If you give it up, I will let you and the boy live.”

“What?” I said. “Mimic, what are you talking about?” I paused and then everything clicked. “Was this all a set up? Did Cadmus send you to take the liquid from Professor Hernandez and then kill us both? Is that why Cadmus went along with this idea?”

“Director Smith doesn't even know about this,” said Mimic. “If he did, he would be trying to stop me.”

“Then … why are you doing this?” I said. “Do you want the serum for yourself?”

Mimic chuckled. “For myself? No. I work for a higher cause, for a higher vision, if you will, and I believe that serum could help.”

I felt my heart fall into my stomach. “You don't mean to say—”

“That I am a Visionist?” Mimic finished. “Of course I am. And now, with the door locked and both of you lacking superpowers, there is nothing to stop me from getting the vengeance for the Visionary that I seek.”

Chapter Twenty

M
imic gestured at Hernandez with his gun. “Now, put the serum down in the box and let me take it.”

Hernandez looked like he was about to do it, but then I held up a hand signaling the Professor to stop. His hand froze halfway down, but Hernandez himself looked too scared to even speak to me.

I looked at Mimic, who was now glaring at me as if I had just insulted him, and said, “What are you even talking about? When did you become a Visionist?”

“Why should I tell you?” said Mimic. He waved his gun at me threateningly. “I'm not afraid to shoot you. Even with your bullet-proof suit, I'll still kill you if you keep talking.”

I almost went along with his demands, but I was too curious about this revelation to care. “No. I'm going to call for backup.”

I raised my hand to tap my earcom, but Mimic pulled the trigger on his gun and bullets flew out. But they didn't hit me or Professor Hernandez; instead, Mimic had aimed his gun at the ceiling, putting bullet holes up there, though he lowered his gun at us again when he finished shooting.

“Don't try to call for backup,” said Mimic. “I can turn you into paste faster than you can even blink.”

I slowly lowered my hand to my side, but I wasn't about to give up yet. “So you are a Visionist. Why have you chosen to reveal yourself now?”

I expected Mimic to just snap at me and tell me that it was none of my business, maybe even shoot at me, but Mimic just said, “Because I have you where I want you. In this private area, it won't matter one way or another whether you know my true identity, because only I will be leaving this place alive.”

“How come the G-Men don't know?” I said. “Cadmus Smith is a telepath. Why didn't he read your mind and know your true intentions?”

Mimic glanced at the window like he saw something, or maybe was expecting something to appear, though what, I didn't know. “Because the Visionary, prior to his unfortunate accident, placed a mental barrier around my mind to keep the Director from seeing my true thoughts. I am Vision's agent on the inside, the Visionist whose job is to ensure that the G-Men becomes another wing of the Vision.”

“So what, you've been spreading Vision propaganda in the G-Men or something?” I said. “Trying to get new recruits for your cult?”

“Originally, yes, but when your actions put the Visionary into a coma, I had to keep quiet, lest I be found out and thrown into Ultimate Max where other Visionists were put,” said Mimic. “I have been awaiting my moment to avenge the Visionary, however, and now it is finally here, within my grasp. Once you are dead, there will be nothing to stop the Vision of equality and justice from spreading all over the world.”

“If you've been with Vision this entire time, why didn't you just kill me in the
Spinner
?” I said. “Or even in the Compound? I was just as defenseless there as I was here.”

“Where do you think Ring Out and Tornadess came from?” said Mimic. “How do you think they found the
Spinner
? Because I gave a tracking device to Thaumaturge, who then gave it to them. Otherwise, they would never have found it on their own and we would never have crashed into the ocean like that.”

“Why did you save me and my Mom from Robert?” I said. “Why didn't you let him kill me?”

“Your father forced me to find you,” said Mimic. He shrugged. “If I had said no, he would have found out where my real loyalties lie and probably would have killed me or at least defeated me. I could not allow that.”

“Then why didn't you kill me in the Compound?” I said.

“Because there were too many people there that I wouldn't have been able to make a quick escape even if I used my shape-shifting powers to sneak out undetected,” said Mimic. He gestured at his face. “They likely would have closed down the entire Compound if they found you and your parents' bodies, which would have made it impossible to escape. Renaissance is very professional and would probably have beaten me to within an inch of my life with his bare hands if he found out what I had done.”

“So now you choose this moment to attack,” I said. “Is that what all this is for, then? Get me in a private place where you have power over me, and then kill me?”

“And get the serum,” Mimic added. “You see, Vision has been aware of Professor Hernandez's serum for quite some time now.”

“You have?” Professor Hernandez croaked. He was sweating hard, probably because he was afraid that Mimic was going to shoot him. “How? I've never told anyone about it.”

“We have our ways,” said Mimic. “So I was tasked with getting it and bringing it back to Thaumaturge. If the serum truly can give people powers, then it is an evil thing that must be destroyed.”

“Evil?” I said. “What's so evil about giving normal people powers?”

“Because superpowers are a social construct,” Mimic insisted. “It is yet another example of the oppressive social construct that is keeping us all from achieving true equality. After all, anyone can have powers if they would just choose to identify as a superhuman. Using a serum implies there is something biological about superpowers, which is obviously wrong.”

“No, they can’t,” I said. “But regardless, you won’t get the serum.”

Mimic snorted. “Oh? How do you intend to keep me from getting it? Remind me, who has the gun in this situation and who only has mere words and insults?”

“You may have the gun,” I said, “but you aren’t going to use it.”

A flash of fear crossed Mimic’s features, but then he said, in a mocking voice, “Why would I not use it? I have no reason to spare either of you. All it takes is one bullet in the right place and you are dead.”

I shook my head. “No. If you were going to kill us, you would have done it by now. After all, we’re both pretty powerless compared to you. There’s no reason for you not to kill us and take or destroy the serum for yourself.”

“Shut up,” said Mimic. His finger rested on the trigger of his gun. “Shut up or I’ll shoot.”