The Superhero's Son (Book 7): The Superhero's Vision Read online

  “Cadmus?” I repeated. “Why did Cadmus—”

  This time, an incredibly powerful charge of electricity shot through my brain. I collapsed into a heap and lost consciousness the second my face hit the floor.

  TO BE CONTINUED

  BOLT WILL RETURN IN The Superhero’s Prison, COMING NOVEMBER 2016.

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  BONUS SHORT STORY:

  Don’t Fear the Reaper

  A The Superhero’s Son short story

  by Lucas Flint

  Cadmus Smith—Director of the Department of Superpowered and Extraterrestrial Beings and leader of the government-sponsored superhero team known as the G-Men—walked carefully through a long abandoned graveyard in Central Texas. His eyes darted from side to side as he kept an eye out for his target, but the night was quiet, with the only sounds being his own footsteps across the dry, dead grass. He passed several destroyed or faded tombstones, though every now and then he’d stop to look behind a large one in case his target was there.

  But every time he looked, he’d find nothing except shadow. Cadmus expected that, but at the same time, he was disappointed, too. He could not allow his target to remain free, not after all of the chaos and death he’d already caused. That the target had also killed several of Cadmus’s own G-Men agents was yet another reason to take him down.

  Of course, ‘man’ might be a stretch, if the reports I’ve received are true, Cadmus thought as he stopped and looked up at the moon, though he didn’t see anything unusual in the sky tonight. More like a monster.

  It was unusual for Cadmus to go out into the field on a mission like this. As the leader of the G-Men, Cadmus spent the vast majority of his time in Washington, where he was either in his office reading reports and sending out agents on missions or talking about serious superhuman, supernatural, or extraterrestrial threats to the United States with the President or the Secretary of Defense. Most of the time, this worked out well, because Cadmus’s strengths were in leading and organizing others, which was why he was the Director and not a basic agent.

  But the target of this mission was too important to put in the hands of the agents under him. Even Mr. Apollo, who was in some ways even more experienced than Cadmus, would not have been able to handle this mission well. It was too risky; so risky, in fact, that Cadmus was certain that no one should even do it.

  But it’s either I do it or this monster is allowed to roam free and take more lives, Cadmus thought. I have already vowed to defend the United States at all costs. If that means sacrificing my own life to stop this monster, then so be it.

  Cadmus resumed walking, but as he did so, he thought about his target. He was already well acquainted with his target’s identity and abilities, but he decided to review them in his head just so he would have them at the front of his mind. That way, when he found his target, Cadmus would not be taken by surprise.

  The target in question was a former funeral director and amateur inventor named Jacob Heisenberg, a resident of the nearby town of Silvers, Texas. Of course, Heisenberg didn’t go by that name anymore; according to the reports, Heisenberg identified as the Reaper of the Night, or just the Reaper for short.

  The reports had said that Heisenberg had suddenly manifested superpowers about two months ago, shortly after the President’s swearing in ceremony. The reason this was noted was because Heisenberg had been a huge critic of the President and hated anyone who voted for him. Such antipathy wasn’t the reason Cadmus was hunting him down; the real reason was for the murders.

  It had started about a week after the President’s swearing in, two months ago in January, 2000. A noted supporter of the President and Mayor of Silvers, Enrique Garcia had been found murdered in front of his mother’s grave in Silvers. Mayor Garcia had been found lying dead, with no signs of injury on his body. There had been a note left by Heisenberg, in which he claimed that he had killed Garcia by stealing his soul and had plans to do the same to all supporters of the President.

  After that, a string of killings—mostly in Texas, each one identical to Garcia’s death, in which the souls of the victims were stolen—occurred over the next two months, mostly public officials who had supported or voted for the President. It was what had drawn the attention of the G-Men, because there were now fears that Heisenberg was going to try to kill the President himself at one point.

  The main reason the G-Men had gotten involved was because Heisenberg had powers. If the reports were accurate—and Cadmus had no reason to doubt them, based on what he’d seen—then Heisenberg could steal the souls of other people with a touch. Reports also indicated that Heisenberg had started wearing a robe and carrying a huge scythe with him, but Cadmus didn’t find that disturbing, given how the vast majority of superhumans in the world had an odd obsession with dressing up in outlandish costumes and giving themselves cheesy names. Cadmus didn’t see the point of it, but then, there was a common theory in the mental healthy community that all superhumans suffered from mental illness of some sort and that they coped with it by dressing up and fighting crime.

  In any case, the fact was that Heisenberg had so far eluded capture by the police. Cadmus had considered asking for the help of the Neohero Alliance in this matter, since the Reaper seemed to be an unusually powerful supervillain, but decided that it was going to be strictly handled by the G-Men. And there was no way he was going to ask the Independent Neoheroes for Justice for help, either; those people were crazy and would probably kill him if he came knocking.

  No. Cadmus would handle this by himself.

  But I must be careful, Cadmus thought as he walked. Heisenberg is clearly insane. I am not sure if that is because of his powers or something else, but in any case, he is an extremely powerful superhuman with a thirst for blood, which isn’t exactly a winning combination.

  Cadmus patted the gun holstered by his side under his coat. His goal was to shoot Heisenberg; he was simply too dangerous of a superhuman to be allowed to live. Besides, Heisenberg would likely break out of Ultimate Max, the only prison in the country built specifically for supervillains, probably by stealing the souls of the guards. All reports suggested that Heisenberg, though insane, was clever.

  That describes a lot of supervillains, now that I think about it, Cadmus thought. It must be a common personality type among them.

  The plan, then, was to find Heisenberg and kill him, preferably with a bullet to the head.

  Someone is going to die tonight, Cadmus thought, and it certainly won’t be me.

  But so far, Cadmus had not found any hint of Heisenberg anywhere. The last report he had received had said that Heisenberg was last seen in this graveyard, which he appeared to be using as a base of operations. But Cadmus had not seen anyone here tonight aside from himself, which made him wonder if Heisenberg was really here or if he had already moved on to another location.

  That was when Cadmus noticed movement under the shade of a tree on top of a nearby hill. The hill rose from the center of the abandoned graveyard and had a huge oak tree growing from it. Locals said that the tree had been planted by some of the first Texas settlers and was supposed to provide relief for the dead, but it looked like just an ordinary tree to Cadmus.

  Still, Cadmus had seen something there, so he stopped and looked at the tree.
He didn’t draw his gun, but he did feel his coat to make sure he could draw it quickly in the event the thing he’d seen under the tree was Heisenberg.

  “Heisenberg?” Cadmus called. “Are you there? If so, show yourself.”

  No answer, so Cadmus reached out with his mind to see if he could detect another mind over there. Immediately, he found another mind, but he withdrew just as quickly. Cadmus recognized that kind of mind all too well; it was crazy, even mad. Cadmus disliked being in contact with mad minds for too long, because their thinking could infect his own mind and make it harder for him to think clearly.

  But there was someone there, so Cadmus shouted, “I know you are there now, Heisenberg. Come out and show yourself. Or else.”

  At first, there was nothing but shadow beneath the tree’s limbs. But then Cadmus saw movement again and someone walked out from underneath the tree.

  The figure was tall and thin, almost skeletal in appearance. His hands were extremely thin and brittle, his skin so thin that Cadmus could see the boney fingers underneath. In his hands, the figure carried a long, sharp scythe with a bloody edge, while a long, dark hood covered his head and a long cloak covered his body. The figure walked slowly, but Cadmus knew the figure could move much faster than he appeared, so Cadmus didn’t let his guard down.

  The figure stopped just beyond the line of the tree’s branches. Under the hood, gaunt, yellow eyes that looked nothing like the eyes of a human and more like the eyes of a monster from the depths of hell flashed.

  “Jacob Heisenberg,” said Cadmus. “Correct?”

  Heisenberg hissed, a rattling sound even from a distance. “Heisenberg is dead. Only the Reaper exists now.”

  He’s even crazier than I thought, Cadmus thought, but aloud he said, “Heisenberg, I am Cadmus Smith, the leader of the G-Men. Do you know what I am here to do tonight?”

  “Arrest me, of course,” said the Reaper, his voice oddly rational. “Under the directives of your vile President, the man who didn’t deserve to be elected.”

  Cadmus frowned. “Arrest you? No. I came here to kill you.”

  “Kill me?” said the Reaper. “How can you kill me? I am the living embodiment of death itself. You cannot kill death.”

  “No, you are not,” said Cadmus. “You are a normal mortal, just like the rest of us.”

  “But I can steal souls from others,” the Reaper said. “What does that make me, other than death itself?”

  “It makes you a dangerously powerful superhuman who needs to be put down before you kill anyone else,” said Cadmus. “That is what.”

  The Reaper sneered. “Believe what you will about me. That doesn’t change the fact that you cannot kill me, for I am so powerful that not even Omega Man could defeat me.”

  “I am not Omega Man,” said Cadmus. “And you are not nearly as powerful as you think you are.”

  “I am not?” said the Reaper. “Then I suppose this mission of yours must be thought of as a little errand by your superiors, like sending a child to the grocery store.”

  “No,” said Cadmus, shaking his head. “It’s more like killing a wolf that has killed a few too many sheep.”

  Cadmus immediately drew his gun from his coat, aimed, and fired, but the Reaper jumped out of the way, hiding behind one of the tombstones scattered around the graveyard.

  Annoyed, Cadmus said, “You can’t hide forever, Reaper. One bullet and you’re dead.”

  “The same can be said about you, Cadmus,” said the Reaper’s voice, which suddenly seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. “One touch and your soul is mine.”

  Cadmus shot at the tombstone, but even though the bullet passed through, it didn’t hit anything on the other side. Cadmus reached out with his mind, but to his surprise, did not sense Reaper’s mind anywhere.

  “Where did you go?” said Cadmus, looking this way and that for the Reaper. “You were just behind that tombstone.”

  “That may be what you saw, but as the Reaper, I can be anywhere I want to be,” said the Reaper in a gloating voice. “The graveyard is my kingdom and I can go anywhere I want within it, just like a true king.”

  Suddenly, a shadow fell over Cadmus. He looked over his shoulder in time to see the Reaper rise from behind another tombstone behind him, his scythe raised. The Reaper brought his scythe down on Cadmus, but Cadmus jumped forwards, narrowly avoiding it.

  He aimed his gun at the Reaper again, but before he could fire, the Reaper vanished. Cadmus ran over to the tombstone and looked behind it, but the Reaper was gone.

  How did he do that? Cadmus thought, looking around again. None of the reports mentioned that the Reaper could teleport. Or does he have another way of traveling between the tombstones? I don’t know. All I know is that I need to keep my wits about myself if I am going to survive with my soul still inside my body.

  Even stranger was how Cadmus couldn’t even sense the Reaper’s mind anymore. It was like the Reaper had totally vanished into thin air, even though Cadmus was pretty sure that the Reaper was still somewhere in the graveyard. He deduced that the Reaper had developed other powers at some point, maybe the ability to shield his mind from telepathy, which was rather unusual, given how it was usually teenagers and young adults who had a habit of manifesting new superpowers so quickly, and the Reaper was certainly not a teenager or young adult.

  Cadmus heard metal sliding against stone and whirled around just in time to see a huge scythe coming at his face. He ducked and fired a shot blindly into the dark. He heard the Reaper curse—likely his bullet hitting him—but then saw the Reaper vanishing behind another tombstone. Unfortunately, Cadmus had no way of knowing where he had hit the Reaper, so he didn’t know if it was a flesh wound or if he had actually hit the Reaper in a vital spot or not.

  Don’t worry about it, Cadmus told himself, keeping his eyes and ears open for other sneak attacks. Just focus on surviving.

  The problem was that Cadmus had no way of guessing ahead of time which tombstones the Reaper would pop out of. It seemed entirely random, which meant that Cadmus would stay on the defensive until the Reaper succeeded in beheading him and stealing his soul (though Cadmus thought that the first would be more than enough to kill him). Cadmus didn’t like playing defensive. He liked to play offensive, but that was impossible now until he could figure out how to play offensive.

  Another sound of a swooshing scythe behind him made Cadmus jump forward, rolling across the ground until he rolled back into a crouching position. He looked up just in time to see the Reaper vanish back into the tombstone from which he had sprung, causing Cadmus to curse under his breath at yet another missed opportunity to shoot the Reaper.

  Cadmus almost resumed moving, but then he caught a glimpse of something shining in the moonlight out of the corner of his eye and looked over to see what it was.

  A tiny device—no bigger than a quarter—was attached to the back of one of the tombstones that the Reaper had jumped out of. A closer inspection showed Cadmus that it was actually a tiny hologram projector, but he didn’t understand what it meant until everything clicked.

  I see, Cadmus thought. He uses projectors to create holograms of himself to confuse and distract me, projectors he must have invented himself at some point. But if that’s the case, then where is the real Reaper? I must have harmed him earlier. I heard him curse in pain. He hasn’t fled yet.

  But the answer was obvious: The real Reaper was still somewhere near the tree.

  So Cadmus rose from his crouch and ran over to the tree. Suddenly a Reaper hologram came out of nowhere and slashed at him, but Cadmus ducked and fired a bullet at the tombstone where he thought the projector should be. The bullet went through the tombstone and the projection suddenly vanished, confirming Cadmus’s theory about the projectors.

  Cadmus reached the tree and dashed underneath its branches. He stopped and looked around, but did not see the Reaper anywhere. He almost thought his theory was wrong until he heard movement in the branches above and looked up to se
e a huge scythe coming at him.

  Instinctively, Cadmus jumped backwards, avoiding the scythe just as it cut through the spot where his head had been moments before. Before he could raise his gun, the Reaper dropped from the branches—the actual Reaper, based on how leaves scattered where he landed—and swung his scythe at Cadmus again.

  Cadmus dodged the scythe and tried to take aim, but the Reaper was fast. He kept swinging his scythe and it was all Cadmus could do to avoid getting beheaded. As a result, Cadmus was on the defensive again, being forced back until he walked into something solid, which he realized was the tree, which meant that he had nowhere else to go.

  “Got you!” the Reaper cried out, swinging his scythe directly at Cadmus’s head.

  Without thinking, Cadmus dropped to the ground. The scythe struck the tree, hitting it so hard that the blade embedded itself in the tree’s surface. The Reaper let out a cry of anger, but immediately let go of his scythe and moved toward Cadmus, reaching out toward him with his boney hands.

  Cadmus, however, didn’t even hesitate. He pointed his gun at the Reaper and fired, the bullet striking the Reaper in the chest. The Reaper staggered backward from the blow, but Cadmus didn’t let up. He kept firing round after round at the Reaper, each bullet leaving a small, bloody hole where it struck, driving the Reaper backwards until the Reaper suddenly tripped on a tree root and fell over backwards down the hill.

  The Reaper rolled down the hill uncontrollably until he slammed into a larger than average tombstone. Cadmus stood at the crest of the hill, looking down at the Reaper, who looked quite dead now, especially with the bullet holes in his chest.

  There, Cadmus thought, wiping sweat off his brow. The Reaper is dead. Mission—

  All of a sudden, the Reaper’s eyes flickered open. He looked at Cadmus with pure rage and snapped, “You know I said I can steal souls only by touch? I lied.”

  Reaper raised his hands. Immediately, Cadmus felt something in his body starting to be drained from within. His body began to feel weak and tired, like how he would feel if he could age properly. He realized that Reaper was trying to steal his soul and would succeed if he didn’t stop him soon.