The Superhero's Son (Book 6): The Superhero's World Page 7
“It’s top secret,” said Shade. “It isn’t as safe or secure as the Compound, but it’s pretty unlikely that the Pokacu will find us. So we’re pretty safe here, much safer than we were at Hero Island anyway.”
“Right,” I said. “Is this Facility part of Project Neo, then?”
“Yes,” said Shade. “Ordinarily I couldn’t tell you even that much because it would get me into trouble, but since everyone knows that the weapons Master Chaos stole were part of Project Neo, I can’t really deny it.”
“Project Neo is still active?” said Strike in surprise. “Are you really creating an army of Pokacu/superhuman hybrid soldiers that will help the federal government take over the world?”
Shade looked at Strike with a nonplussed expression. “What?”
“It’s just a conspiracy theory from my friend, Dizzy,” said Strike. “She’s … into that kind of stuff.”
Shade just shook her head and looked back the way we were going. “What a silly idea. We’re actually raising an army of cyborg superhumans under President Plutarch’s direct command. Duh.”
Strike and I exchanged worried looks. Shade could have just been playing with us, but it was hard to tell.
Before we could say anything else, however, Shade stopped in front of a door, said, “Here we are!” and opened it and entered, gesturing for us to follow. Strike and I entered after her and emerged into another room, but this one was different from the last room we’d been in.
For one, it had furniture: A large, round table with a dozen or so swivel chairs around it. A huge, currently blank monitor stood against the wall at the other end of the room, while a closed laptop computer sat on the table on the end nearest the monitor.
And we weren’t the only people in the room, either. Sitting behind the laptop was Cadmus Smith himself, while on either side of him sat two guys I had never seen before, though based on the G-Men patches on their right shoulders, I assumed they were G-Men agents.
The guy on Cadmus’s right was a bald, middle-aged guy with a very finely-combed mustache. The guy didn’t look like much, but I noticed that he had a bow slung over his shoulder, plus a quiver full of arrows. He was also sipping from a cup of tea, which made him look fancy, though I had a feeling he was rougher than he looked for some reason.
On Cadmus’s left was a man who looked jittery and nervous. Unlike the middle-aged guy, this man had long, black hair and a pierced nose. He almost started when we entered the room, but relaxed when he saw Shade, probably because she was a fellow G-Man like himself. But he regarded me and Strike with suspicion and distrust, even though we had not done anything to him and had never even seen him before. Maybe it was because we were NHA and INJ, two organizations that hadn’t exactly gotten along with the G-Men in the past.
Cadmus looked up from his laptop when we entered. “Ah, Bolt, Strike, good to see that you are on time. Please have a seat and we can begin to talk about this Pokacu attack.”
Strike and I took seats at the end of the table, while Shade swiftly moved around the table toward Cadmus until she was standing behind him, where she stopped. Cadmus just nodded at Shade, as if to say a job well done, before looking at Strike and me again.
“First things first,” said Cadmus. “Can either of you use your powers yet?”
I shook my head. “No. The powerless gas is starting to wear off, but my powers haven’t fully come back yet.”
“Same here,” said Strike. “But I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”
“Yes, the powerless gas only lasted a few hours at most during the first invasion,” said Cadmus. “Unless the Pokacu have made any improvements to the formula for the gas to lengthen the de-powering effect, I imagine the same will apply to you and your teammates soon enough.”
I nodded and then looked at the other two nameless G-Men quickly. “Yeah, but, um, who are these two? I don’t think I’ve ever met them before.”
“Right, I forgot,” said Cadmus. He gestured at the middle-aged man to his right. “This is Mr. Apollo, one of our oldest and best members. He is good at gaining intelligence for missions and is one of my most trusted agents.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Mr. Apollo, who spoke with a very refined accent. “Bolt, is it? Yes, I recall meeting your father, Genius, when he was still alive. I always respected his intelligence, even though he never liked me very much.”
“What about me?” said Strike. “Do you have anything to say to me?”
“No,” said Mr. Apollo bluntly.
Strike looked crestfallen when Mr. Apollo said that, but Cadmus didn’t seem to notice or care. He just gestured at the man sitting to his left, who still looked as jittery and nervous as ever.
“And this is Agent Wind,” said Cadmus. “He’s another one of my trusted agents, who I am sure will be able to help you as well.”
“Hi,” I said. “What kind of powers do you have?”
“My secret,” said Wind. He had a somewhat hoarse-sounding voice, like he was a recovering smoker or something. “It isn’t anything worth talking about, anyway. Nothing special.”
I was about to say something about how rude that was before I caught Shade’s eye and remembered something that she’d told me a while ago, when we first met, about keeping your powers a secret from potential enemies. That neither Mr. Apollo nor Wind had said anything about their powers to us meant that either they considered us potential enemies or they were simply secretive like Cadmus and the rest of the G-Men. In any case, I disliked it, because it made it impossible for me to determine whether I could beat them in a fight.
“Wind is our resident spy,” said Cadmus. “Not quite as good as Mimic was, but he knows how to get in and out of almost any type of building without being seen.”
“So why did you bring these two over?” I said.
“Because both of them fought in the initial Pokacu invasion,” said Cadmus. “So they have experience fighting these aliens and will be able to provide us with some insight on this matter.”
Mr. Apollo sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Unfortunately. The last time they attacked, I spent a week in the hospital. And don’t even get me started on that wretched powerless gas; not only did it take away my powers, but it also smelled awful.”
“Indeed,” said Cadmus. “But this time, we are ready for it.”
“Ready for it?” I said. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” said Cadmus. “Anyway, tell me everything that happened on Hero Island, starting with the Pokacu’s attack. Leave nothing out.”
I nodded and told Cadmus and the other G-Men agents the whole story, starting from the appearance of the missile in the sky to our fight with the Limb Drone. As I spoke, I wondered why Cadmus just didn’t read my mind and find out everything that way, but maybe he wanted me to tell him it verbally so Shade, Mr. Apollo, and Wind could hear it as well.
Once I finished, Cadmus leaned back in his chair and began stroking his chin, a troubled look on his face.
“How many neoheroes were present at the opening ceremony?” said Cadmus, but I noticed that he wasn’t looking at me; rather, he had addressed the question to Shade for some reason.
“Five hundred and ten by my count,” said Shade. “Half from the NHA, the other half from the INJ.”
“So that’s five hundred of the most powerful and experienced superhumans not just in America, but in the whole world, now under the possession of the Pokacu,” said Cadmus. “I guess the Pokacu learned from their mistakes last time.”
“We need to save them,” I said, leaning forward. “I think if we went back now—”
“We’d just end up getting killed,” said Mr. Apollo. He shuddered. “Or worse, becoming a prisoner of the Pokacu.”
“But our fellow superheroes are there,” said Strike. “The Pokacu could kill them at any time, if they haven’t already.”
“No, I doubt they will try to kill Omega Man and the rest,” said Cadmus.
“What?” I said. “Why wouldn’t they? Didn�
��t they kill a bunch of superhumans during the first invasion?”
“True, but they also captured just as many and did all sorts of horrible things to them,” said Cadmus. “Besides, if they’d wanted to kill all of them, they would have just dropped an actual bomb on Hero Island, not a missile full of powerless gas.”
“Oh,” I said, sitting back. “Good point. But if they don’t want to kill them, then what are they doing with them?”
“That, I do not know,” said Cadmus. “Nicknacks might be able to help us there, but given that he’s currently unconscious while our surgeons work on his legs, I doubt we’ll get a chance to ask him for a while.”
“I just don’t understand how they figured this out,” said Wind. He shook his head. “The Pokacu somehow knew about Hero Island and that there would be a lot of heroes gathered there today. Where did they get this information?”
I felt my neck starting to heat up in embarrassment. “Well … there was this Pokacu named Graleex that I encountered underwater a couple of months ago. Do you remember him, Cadmus?”
“I recall Mimic giving a report about your encounter with a survivor of the original invasion, yes,” said Cadmus. “What of it?”
“Well, that guy escaped into space after copying some of my memories into his ship’s computer,” I said. “And, since I saw Graleex not even an hour ago, I think he must have given his people the facts he learned from my memory in order to make this invasion more successful than the last.”
“Meaning, my boy, that this entire mess is your fault, at least to an extent?” Mr. Apollo questioned.
My neck was getting too hot now, but I nodded and said, “Yeah. But I didn’t … I mean, I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t even know he’d return. I thought he’d just die out in the middle of space somewhere or get sucked into a black hole or something.”
“Wait, you mean the entire reason why the NHA and the INJ became crippled is because of something you did?” said Strike.
“I didn’t mean it,” I said, holding up my hands to pacify Strike’s anger. “Like I said, I had no idea that Graleex would even return.”
“So this really is all your fault, then,” said Strike. His hands balled into fists. “If you hadn’t let that alien copy your memories, then maybe the Midnight Menace and the others would not be in the clutches of a bunch of murderous aliens right now.”
Strike sounded angrier than I’d ever heard him before. The only other time I had seen him this angry was back when I was visiting the Cavern and he had found me wandering around alone in the lowest levels of the place. Back then, of course, his powers had been working, but even without his powers, Strike still succeeded in looking very intimidating.
“What am I supposed to do?” I said. “I’ve already said I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
Strike looked like he was about to say that no, it wasn’t, but Cadmus raised a hand and said, “Boys, stop arguing. What happened in the past is done and over with. What matters now is rescuing the NHA and the INJ and defeating the Pokacu before they can spread over the planet.”
Strike looked away from me, though I could tell that he was still annoyed. “You’re right. The real enemy here is the Pokacu.”
Despite what Strike said, it was obvious that he hadn’t forgiven me entirely. That annoyed me, because I didn’t see how I was supposed to do anything about this. It wasn’t even really my fault, if you thought about it, because I couldn’t control what Graleex and the Pokacu did with whatever information they pulled out of my head.
“Exactly,” said Cadmus. “And we are lucky, because at the moment, the Pokacu are thus far staying in only one easy to find location. If we move fast—”
Cadmus stopped speaking, not because the rest of us had said anything, but because he seemed to be listening to something. He raised his hand to his ear, which was when I noticed that he had his own earcom, though it was hard to tell if it looked like mine or not.
Not that it really mattered, because Cadmus suddenly snapped at Shade, “Shade, turn the monitor on. I’m receiving a report from Iron Horn that there is something strange on the TV.”
Without a word, Shade picked up a remote control and clicked a button that instantly turned on the TV monitor, which displayed one of those big major 24/7 news networks discussing something outrageous that President Plutarch had apparently said recently. It looked pretty normal at first, until the screen began to fade in and out, rapidly blinking between the two talking heads and another image, but it was blinking too fast for me to make out the other image until it suddenly stopped blinking.
Now we were not looking at two talking heads; instead, we were looking directly at the face of a Pokacu soldier. And it wasn’t just any Pokacu; it was Graleex, his ugly blue face twisted in a brutal scowl.
“What is this?” said Cadmus, staring at the monitor in disbelief. “How is he doing this?”
“It appears that the Pokacu have hacked into our network satellites and are broadcasting a message to the whole world,” said Valerie, her voice crackling in my earcom all of a sudden. “At least, that’s what I think.”
Before I could ask her how that was even possible, Graleex spoke, his voice high and triumphant. “Humans of Earth, I am Commander Graleex, Commander of the Pokacu Army. About one Earth hour ago, my forces invaded your world once again, intending to pick up where we left off fifteen of your Earth years ago. We have hacked into your satellites and are broadcasting this message to every screen and monitor on the planet so that every one of you pathetic humans can know just how doomed your world is.”
“Looks like I was right,” said Valerie in my ear, sounding rather satisfied with herself.
“Approximately one Earth hour ago, my forces invaded and attacked the island you humans call Hero Island,” said Graleex. “There we defeated all of your planet’s mightiest defenders in one blow; that is, the two organizations known as the Neohero Alliance and the Independent Neoheroes for Justice. We have taken many of their members hostage, including the leadership of both organizations. Your planet is now entirely defenseless against our power.”
I found it kind of hard to believe that our planet was entirely defenseless; then again, given how powerful and advanced Pokacu technology seemed to be, maybe Graleex had a point. It didn’t help that Cadmus and the other G-Men looked pretty grim when Graleex said that, though I hoped that wasn’t a confirmation of what he just said.
“Some of you humans may be skeptical of my clams—I mean claims—especially since knowledge of this new invasion has yet to become widespread,” said Graleex. “Allow me to show you the proof of my claims so you will tremble in fear.”
Graleex’s image was replaced by a far grimmer one: It was the area of the unveiling ceremony on Hero Island, but it looked much worse now. Hundreds of neoheroes from both organizations knelt, their arms shackled in weird chains that looked like a mixture of metal and vines, with the low yellow haze of the powerless gas hovering above them all. Pokacu soldiers walked or stood between them, looking like prison guards making sure that prisoners weren’t trying to escape. I did not see Mecha Knight anywhere among them, but given that there was a good possibility that Mecha Knight had been blown to bits by that explosion, that didn’t make me feel much better.
Then the camera rose until it was fixed on the Justice Statue; or rather, what was left of it. The explosion we had heard underneath the Statue must have indeed been a bomb, because now half of the Statue lay on the ground, while the other half still stood tall, albeit smoking slightly.
And hanging from the Statue, his head down and his costume and cape torn in several areas, was Omega Man. He looked like he had been crucified, but when the camera zoomed in, it showed that he was simply hanging by his arms from chains from the remains of the Statue. Still, he looked incredibly weak and was so still that I would have thought he was dead if I hadn’t seen his chest rise and fall with every breath.
“Behold,” sa
id Graleex, his voice somewhere off-screen. “Your heroes and defenders, all powerless and defeated. And your greatest hero of all—the one you call Omega Man—as weak and pathetic as an infant.”
Suddenly, Graleex’s ugly mug reappeared, still grinning in triumph. “We are aware of your human technology and the kind of weapons you have, but we also know that your human weapons will never match our own might. Our technology allows us to be anywhere at any time, to disable and destroy any human weapons we see fit. Without your defenders, you are like children playing pretend, children that we will slaughter like sheep.”
Beside me, Strike tensed, like he wanted to get up and punch Graleex’s smug face. I understood that feeling all too well, but since Graleex was just a head on a screen and not actually here in the flesh, all we could do was sit there and listen.
“But we are not merciless, as some of you humans may suppose,” said Graleex. “Although we could easily overrun this puny world with sheer numbers alone and wipe out every living creature on its surface, we are giving you humans a chance to surrender peacefully. You have forty-eight Earth hours to agree to surrender; if you do, we will spare your cities and your world. But if not …”
The screen switched again. This time, it showed an aerial view of San Francisco, which looked ominously peaceful today. I looked at Strike, who was from California, but he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were locked on the screen and he muttered the words, “No … please don’t …”
I didn’t know what he was worried about until, all of a sudden, one of the massive whale-like ships from the initial invasion appeared directly over the city. Because the shot was zoomed out, it was impossible to tell what the reaction of the people was, but I could imagine they were pointing up at the sky and wondering what that ship was.
Then, all of a sudden, something fell from underneath the ship. It looked kind of like the missile that had hit Hero Island, except smaller. It quickly fell toward San Francisco, falling too fast for me to follow.
It vanished between a couple of tall buildings, and as soon as it did, a massive explosion—much bigger than any explosion I’d ever seen in my life—erupted from within. Huge flames spread everywhere, destroying whole buildings and skyscrapers in their wake, knocking over any buildings it couldn’t burn. All of it in complete silence, perhaps because the video had no audio or had been muted by the Pokacu.