A Superhero's Legacy (The Legacy Superhero Book 1) Page 5

  I thought about that. TW's story was really wild, almost impossible to believe, but at the same time, I had seen too much evidence of weird stuff happening to just dismiss it as a prank or some kind of deception. I believed that TW was really telling me the truth, or as much of the truth as he knew, anyway.

  I still had a lot of questions, questions that even TW could not answer, but at the same time, I was already starting to see the possibilities that the Watch would give me. With the powers of Trickshot at my command, I would be able to not only fight the Injectors, but maybe even defeat them. I could avenge Thomas and free Rumsfeld of its Power problem. Bug Bite might have failed to stop them, but the Injectors wouldn't know what hit them, especially once I mastered these new powers and became really proficient at using them.

  "Sounds great," I said, looking up at TW again. "Stopping the Injectors is a noble cause and, while I've never really wanted to be a superhero, I think being a superhero could be a lot of fun. I accept."

  "Excellent," said TW, nodding. "Gregory told me that you would accept once I explained the situation to you. It seems that you are more like your grandfather than even he knows."

  I smiled. "Well, what can I say? Maybe fighting crime really does run in the blood after all."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After my conversation with TW, I took a long nap, because I was still exhausted from my fight with the Injectors. But I didn't sleep nearly as well as I should have, because my mind was aflame with curiosity over the news and information TW had shared with me.

  First off, Grandfather was still alive. For ten years, my parents and I had been wondering whether we would ever see him again. Now I knew for a fact that he was still alive. I didn't know where he was or how well he was doing, but just knowing that he was somewhere in this world made me feel much better than I had in a long time.

  Now I wondered who these Icon people were. TW's explanation of them didn't help. Whoever they were and whatever they were trying to do, they probably weren't good people. I mean, they kidnapped Grandfather and held him prisoner for the last ten years. That's not the behavior of good guys. It's the behavior of bad guys who are probably planning something evil.

  Still, there was nothing I could do about Icon or Grandfather at the moment. Wherever he was, Grandfather was probably going to be okay for now, because Grandfather was a tough guy who could take care of himself. Besides, it didn't sound like Icon was trying to kill or torture him, so I didn't have any reason to rush to his rescue right away.

  What I really needed to focus on was defeating the Injectors. With the powers of Trickshot under my belt (or, rather, on my wrist), I suddenly had the chance to do what I always dreamed of doing. There was still a lot I didn't know about my new powers and abilities, of course, but if my fight with the Injectors went as well as my fight with those seven Injectors in the backyard of that house, then pretty soon Rumsfeld wouldn't have an Injector problem anymore.

  Of course, there was still the problem of being an illegal superhero. I had never taken the Superhero Exam before, much less passed it. Using superpowers without a valid superhero license could get you arrested. In some states, you could even be executed for it. Granted, that was mostly because anyone using superpowers with a license likely got them from Power, but somehow I doubted that the federal government would believe me if I told them that my powers came from my costume, rather than from an illegal injection of Power.

  But I would worry about the details later. For now, I would use every opportunity I could find to practice and refine my skills. I doubted I would need to spend much time practicing, however. After all, I'd already defeated seven Injectors by myself. With just a few more days of practice, I would probably be strong enough to take down the entire organization all by myself.

  How long I slept, I didn't know, but it must have been a few hours at least, because I didn't wake up right away even when I heard Mom knocking loudly on the door to my room. A quick glance at the Watch showed me that yes, I had been asleep for a few hours--it was just after lunch--which explained why I felt so groggy.

  "Jack!" Mom shouted, her voice jarringly loud despite being on the other side of the door. "Are you awake? There's someone who would like to meet you."

  I blinked several times and, yawning,raised my head and said, "Who is it?"

  "A detective from the police," said Mom. "She's really rather young for her job, but she's got the badge and everything. She wants to talk to you about your incident with the Injectors earlier because she's filing a detailed report."

  I frowned. It seemed strange to me that the police would send a detective to interview me when I had already told them everything I knew, and it was even stranger that they would do it so soon after I got home. Maybe there was a detail or two they needed clarification on.

  In any case, I sat up and shouted, "Okay, Mom, I'll be right there. Just let me put my shoes on."

  I hopped off my bed and pulled on my shoes. As I tied the laces, I glanced at the Trickshot Watch on my wrist. I had not taken it off when I took a nap earlier. It was so light that I couldn't even feel it, but for some reason I didn't think it would be wise to take my watch downstairs with me this time.

  So I removed the Watch from my wrist and tossed it in the top drawer of my dresser, pulling one of my old plain T-shirts over it quickly for safety reasons. Then I left the room and made my way downstairs to the kitchen, where I heard voices speaking. I recognized Mom's voice, as well as Dad's voice, but I didn't recognize the third voice, which sounded like a young twenty-something woman. It must be the detective, though she sounded more like a college student than a detective.

  Entering the kitchen, I saw Mom and Dad sitting around the kitchen table. Mom, as usual, wore her favorite green dress, while Dad was still in his dirty construction jacket and jeans. Dad and I looked very similar to each other, the only difference being that I was taller and thinner than him. Dad's years of construction work had left him with hard, tanned skin and a very stout body that was much stronger than it looked. His construction hat sat on the table in front of him, while he held a beer in his other hand that he had obviously just opened, based on how full it was.

  Sitting across from Mom and Dad was a young woman I had never seen before in my life. She was very short and petite, to the point where I would have mistaken her for one of my classmates if I didn't know that she was an adult. She wore a simple business suit that made her look very official, though it also looked awkward on her, as if she didn't usually wear suits. Her blonde hair was straight and clean, almost sparkling it was so clean.

  Dad was the first one to notice me. His hard eyes glanced in my direction and he smiled, crinkling the skin around his eyes. "Hey, Jack. How are you feeling? I got back from work as fast as I could when I heard about those damned Injectors who tried to kill you."

  "I'm fine, Dad," I said, smiling back. "I didn't get hurt. Just really scared, but I'm going to be all right, I think."

  "I still can't believe that happened," said Dad, shaking his head. "Getting attacked by the Injectors of all people ... boy, if I had been there, I would have sent every last one of those monsters to the hospital."

  I couldn't help but smile even more. Dad may not have been a superhero like Grandfather, but he had the strongest sense of justice of anyone I knew and was incredibly protective of Mom and I. It was nice to know that he managed to get off work to come back home and make sure I was okay. It made today seem better than it was.

  "If you're done bragging about how you would beat up a bunch of drug dealers with guns, then maybe you can introduce me to your son," said the young woman, leaning back in her chair and looking over at me. "Unless you just want to sit around and waste time talking, that is."

  Maybe it wasn't entirely fair, but I immediately disliked this lady. Based on the way Mom and Dad looked at each other, I could tell that they didn't like her anymore than I did.

  But I didn't say that aloud. I just waved at her and said, in a polite voice,
"I can introduce myself. I'm Jack McDonald. You're--?"

  "Detective Christina Madison," said the woman. She pulled out a police badge and flashed it at me. "I work for the City of Rumsfeld Police Department. It's my job to follow up on cases involving the Injectors and other drug dealers."

  "That seems like a kind of specific title for a small city police department," I said, tilting my head to the side.

  "There is a lot of drug dealing out here," said Christina. "Especially from the Injectors. You'd never guess, given how idyllic this place seems, but I guess every city has its dark side, eh?"

  "I take it you're not from around here?" I said.

  "Yeah," said Christina, nodding. "I'm from New York City. Moved out here because it's cheaper and it's the only place I could find a job. Otherwise, I'd be back in NYC where I'd have to deal with less drugs than you find out here."

  I bit my lower lip. I couldn't tell if Christina was trying to provoke me into responding to her negatively or if this was just her personality. I would have responded in kind, but I could tell that Mom and Dad wouldn't like that, so I decided to take a more diplomatic approach.

  Taking a seat at the table next to Mom, I said, "So you're here to ask me more questions about the attack?"

  "Right," said Christina. "More specifically, I'd like to ask you about the unidentified individual who saved you."

  "I already told the police what happened," I said. "I didn't see the guy who saved me because I was hiding in that tool shed. The shed didn't have any windows and the door was closed, so I couldn't see anything. All I heard was the sounds of the Injectors fighting the guy. I don't even know what his name is."

  Christina rested her chin on her hand, looking at me with penetrating eyes. "Yes, I'm aware of what you told the police, but I'm just trying to make sure you didn't leave out any details accidentally. I have a talent for helping people remember things they forgot in the heat of the moment. It's why I'm so good at what I do."

  Humility was definitely not one of her defining character traits, but I said, "Well, I'm not sure how your talent will help me, because if I didn't see anything, how could I forget it?"

  "The human mind has an interesting way of remembering the strangest things, but putting that memory out of normal reach," said Christina. She pulled out her phone and began tapping the screen. "I have a picture which might jog your memory. It was taken by one of the neighbors of the house you were at. It's not very good, because the neighbor in question was trying to avoid drawing the attention of the Injectors, but it should be clear enough for our purposes. Ah, here it is."

  Christina turned her phone toward me. My parents and I leaned forward to get a better look at the picture, but as soon as I saw it, my palms became sweaty and I wished that I was anywhere else right now.

  The picture showed me, in my Trickshot costume, talking on the phone to Jones. And the door to the shed was open, revealing that I wasn't in there at all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I would have jumped up and run away just then, but I knew that that would just make me look guilty. Instead, I looked up at Christina and said, "Who is that?"

  "The man who defeated the Injectors who were trying to kill you, presumably," said Christina, putting the phone on the table. "According to the witness I spoke to, after he defeated the Injectors, he was seen speaking on the phone that belonged to one of the Injectors, though we don't know where he went after that, because the witness went back into her house after that to call the police and inform them of the Injector attack. When she came back out to see if he was still there, he was gone and the tool shed's door was closed."

  This seemed like an absurd amount of investigation for a detective from a small city police department, especially in such a short amount of time. Maybe Christina really was as good as she said she was. If so, then I would have to tread very carefully around her in order to avoid revealing that Trickshot and I were the same person.

  "But I don't get the guy's getup," said Dad before I could respond. He gestured at the picture on the phone. "I recognize that costume. That's my dad's Trickshot costume, back when he was a superhero."

  "Are you sure about that?" said Christina, shifting her attention from me to Dad.

  "Yeah," said Dad, nodding. "I saw my dad put on that costume for work every day for eighteen years. It's been a long time since I last saw it, but there's no way I would ever forget that cape or those goggles. I just don't understand where this guy could have gotten the costume from, though, because it disappeared with my dad ten years ago."

  "That's a mystery for another time, I think," said Christina. She looked at me again. "The more important question is, where were you when the door to that tool shed was open? By your own account, you hid inside the tool shed for the entirety of the encounter. You didn't emerge until long after the fight was over, by which time the police had arrived and started arresting Injectors. Can you explain why you are not in this picture and why you did not see this man, despite the fact that he was standing in the middle of the backyard with nothing to obstruct him?"

  I was sweating something fierce now, like how I did after a hard workout. I didn't know how to answer in a way that would avoid arousing Christina's suspicions. Or to my parents, for that matter. I was just glad that I had chosen to leave the Trickshot Watch in my room before I came down, because if I hadn't, the gig likely would have been up the second I entered the kitchen.

  Thinking fast, I said, "Well, I'll admit that my memory from that time is kind of fuzzy, because I was so scared and terrified. I hid behind the wheelbarrow inside the shed, which as you can see was turned on its side. That's why you can't see me there."

  "What about the open door?" said Christina. "Can you explain that?"

  Christina had an incredibly intense stare, like she was looking directly into my soul. I was glad I kept my hands on my lap under the table, otherwise she would have seen them sweating and realized that something was up.

  "One of the Injectors did manage to open the door before that guy arrived," I said. "Yes, I remember that now. Rodriguez--that was the Injector's name--ripped open the door, but before they could shoot me, that guy appeared and defeated them. I didn't see it, however, because I was too busy hiding behind the overturned wheelbarrow to risk looking at the fight."

  "And when did you close the door?" Christina questioned. "Because the door was closed when the first officers arrived upon the scene."

  "I didn't," I admitted. "I think it was probably the guy in the Trickshot costume. Maybe he wanted to make sure I was safe or maybe he didn't know I was in there and just thought the door didn't need to remain open. I just remember the door being closed from the outside."

  "I take it, then, that you don't know the man wearing the Trickshot costume," said Christina.

  I nodded. "Yeah. Don't recognize the guy at all. He's probably not my grandfather, though. He looks too young."

  It was meant to be a joke, but it came out kind of pathetic due to my nerves.

  Christina didn't look amused. She picked up her phone and put it back in the coat of her jacket before looking at me again. "Well, you've answered all of my questions, I think. I'm going to write this all up in a report when I get back to HQ."

  "Wait, you're leaving already?" I said in surprise. "You're not going to ask me more questions?"

  Christina stood up. "What else is there to ask? You already answered all of the ones I had, as well as a few new ones that I came up with during the questioning. I'm a rather busy woman, in case you can't tell, so I don't have time to spend talking to teenage boys like you all day."

  That would have offended me normally, but I was so relieved that I had somehow managed to stumble my way through the questioning process without revealing who I really was that I was more relieved than anything. "Okay. Makes sense."

  "Mister and missus McDonald," said Christina, looking at my parents. "I wanted to thank you for allowing me to come into your house and speak to your son about this issue. With
this information, the Rumsfeld City Police Department is that much closer to making the city of Rumsfeld a safer place for everyone."

  "Uh, you're welcome, detective," said Dad, who seemed taken aback by Christina's sudden change in attitude. He halfway rose from his chair. "Do you want me to get the door for you or--?"

  "Don't worry," said Christina cheerfully. "I might be a crazy big city gal, but I think I know how doors work. Thanks for the offer, though."

  With that, Christina walked out of the kitchen. A second later, I heard the front door open and close, and then the sound of a car engine starting up and driving away down the street until it was out of hearing range.

  "Well ..." Mom looked at me and Dad, mystified. "That woman was certainly ... different."

  "That's a nice way of describing her," said Dad with a grunt. "She obviously thinks we're just a bunch of hicks from flyover country. I don't know why those idiots in the police department hired her if she's just going to talk down to us like that."

  "Maybe she's just stressed from moving from such a big city like New York to such a small one like this," said Mom, though she spoke rather halfheartedly. "Moving is always stressful, especially when you're by yourself."

  "Nah, I think she's just stuck up," said Dad, shaking his head. "I bet she won't last one month here. Then she'll go crawling back to NYC where her kind belongs."

  Dad chuckled when he said that, while Mom frowned her disapproval but, as usual, said nothing about Dad's crude jokes.

  Me, I said nothing, because I was still thinking about how lucky I had gotten. If the conversation had gone even slightly differently, my secret identity would have been blown before my superhero career even started. I made a mental note to avoid Christina if I ever saw her around town. She acted like she was satisfied with my answers, but deep down, I suspected that she didn't believe them entirely and would be keeping a close eye on me from now on.