The First Superhero Books 0-3 Box Set Page 7

  Richter stood up and chuckled. “There we go.”

  I took a few wobbly steps toward him and yelled “You son of a bitch!” as I swung my fist at him as hard as I could. Even though I wasn’t at a hundred percent, it was still a punch fast enough that most people wouldn’t see it coming, and hard enough that it would most definitely kill you.

  Still, Richter dodged it with ease, weaving and bobbing his head out of the way like a professional boxer.

  I tried to swing again, but Richter pushed me, sending me flying a hundred miles an hour into a boulder. My spine cracked and broke again. I tried to yell in pain but was paralyzed for a split second. My spine snapped back into place, repairing itself.

  Richter was by my side in the blink of an eye. “Now, I can do this all day. You, on the other hand, look like you’re in a lot of pain. Trust me, you’ll get used to it. We can save the ‘getting used to it’ for a later date, though. Right now, I just want to have a discussion, if that’s alright with you. Or would you like for me to send you down the side of another mountain? We’re in Washington right now, and there’s lots of ’em to choose from.”

  I gritted my teeth, rage filling every inch of my body. I spat on the ground next to Richter. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  Richter sighed. “Alright, here we go.” He picked me up, about to take me on another painful ride.

  “Wait!” I didn’t want to have to go through pain like that again. “Okay,” I said through heavy breathing. “Let’s talk.”

  The Mountaintop

  I sat across from Richter when his eyes stopped glowing. I could see his face clearly and fully. There was a bit of dirt on it, and his longish hair covered part of his eyes until he brushed it aside. He smiled, giving me a toothy, pearly-white grin. His eyes were a deep brown and—for lack of a better phrase—filled with a boyish charm. Like he’d just gotten a new toy for Christmas and was moments away from tearing it open to play.

  “So you’re the new kid on the block,” he said, examining my battered body. “Your suit’s a little torn.” He poked at my skin through a hole in the side.

  I flinched away, but instantly regretted showing any weakness.

  “What’s with the suit, anyway? You think you’re some sort of hero?” Richter let out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous. You’re no superhero.” He spat the word out like it was venom.

  “I’m better than you,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, really?” Richter turned and looked at the damage we’d done to the mountain. It was almost totally blown apart, more of a crater than a mountain. “Because I think there’s a mountain around here somewhere that would disagree with you,” Richter said. He laughed, proud of his joke.

  “What do you want, Richter?” I asked.

  Richter raised a hand. “Please, call me Patrick.”

  “Just tell me what you want to talk about, Richter.”

  Richter’s joking expression flashed red with anger, but he was able to hold it back. “I have a proposition for you....” He looked at me questioningly. “What’s your name, anyhow?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “You think I’d tell you?”

  Richter shrugged. “Worth a shot, no? Anyway, as I was saying. A proposition.” Richter cleared his throat and stood. He paced in front of me. “You and I are both special. We’re different. We’re better. We could basically do anything we wanted to, with no one to stop us. Or at least I can. I have, as I’m sure you’ve seen. I’ve turned the world into my playground. But to be honest,” Richter said as he turned and looked at me, “it can get kind of lonely.”

  “And I care about your loneliness why?” I asked, trying to make jabs at him. If I couldn’t hurt him physically, I’d at least try to let my words do some damage.

  “Because,” Richter began as he crouched down to get eye level with me. I was still sitting against a boulder, letting my body heal. “Soon you’ll be lonely, too. You’ll try to hide your powers, try to keep your loved ones safe.” Richter’s face turned dark. “But then you’ll start to feel a disconnect. Your friends will start to push you away, saying you’ve been acting ‘weird,’ that you’ve been ‘hiding something,’ that they can’t ‘trust you.’” Richter was trying to keep himself from shaking with anger. “BUT YOU’LL JUST BE TRYING TO PROTECT THEM!” he yelled, his words filled with anger.

  I jumped up from my seat, and Richter stood as well. “So the next step for you was to go on a rampage?” I said back, as smug as I could.

  “No!” Richter snapped. “It was to tell them who I was. But they said I was a freak. They were afraid. But you know what?” Richter got a crazed look in his eyes. “They were right. They were right to be afraid of me. They were right in calling me a freak. Because I am a freak. I’m a freak who’s better than them. Who’s better than every person on this goddamned Earth.” Richter’s voice turned soft; the charm returned to his eyes. “And together, you and I could rule this place. The Earth can be our playground. We could have whatever we want. Whoever we want. So let’s not fight. Don’t make me have to kill you. Because we could have so much fun.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Richter thought that what he was doing was actually fun. He’d lost his humanity. He’d lost his reason to live. Well, replaced it would be a better word. Now his reason to live was to have fun by destroying the Earth. His superpowers had driven him mad, and that terrified me.

  “So, what do you say?” Richter said, extending his hand. “Truce?”

  I looked at his hand. I couldn’t believe someone who was only seventeen held the world in such a state of constant fear, and his hand was just inches away from mine. He wanted me to shake it. My gaze turned to Richter’s eyes, and I could feel my anger and rage toward him fill mine.

  I let my emotions well up inside me. This man had killed so many, destroyed the lives of many others, and had just gotten done asking me to join him—after beating the shit out of me. I was so angry at him, I had to have been shaking. I made a fist and did something that felt amazing.

  I punched Richter as hard as I could, square in the face. I let out a yell so loud and punched him so hard that a shock wave blew dust and small pebbles back.

  Richter went flying backwards into the Washington forest. He took out many trees as he slid for a good mile or two across the ground, screaming in pain the entire way.

  The bones in my arm healed themselves almost instantly, and I took to the skies, flying back to Ebon as fast as I could, thankful to have survived another encounter with Richter. I knew, though, that it would most certainly not be my last.

  Things were only getting started.

  Two Sides to the Truth

  I hovered ten thousand feet above my house, scanning as far as the eye could see for any sign we were being watched. I could see everything clearly, even from my height. And by everything I mean nothing, since there was not a soul for miles around. All attention was on Ebon; no one suspected the small farm just outside its borders to be where I lived.

  I flew down and landed in the backyard. I practically limped to the back door and walked inside. My entire body ached and I felt very sore. However, it occurred to me through all of the discomfort I was in that I had no idea what to say to announce my arrival. Was I just supposed to yell, Hey, Mom and Dad! I’m home! Back from fighting Richter. We destroyed a mountain and stuff?

  Before I could decide, though, Mom came running from the living room and into the entryway for the back yard.

  “Kane?” she said as she came around the corner.

  I realized my eyes were still glowing, and I turned them off just in time for hers to meet mine.

  “Oh my God!” she shouted as she ran to me and hugged me. “Andy, get in here!” she yelled to my dad.

  My dad came to see what was going on, and his face was practically glowing he was so proud of me. He walked over to me, and Mom let go of me so Dad could give me a quick hug.

  “You looked good out there,” Dad said.r />
  “Oh, yeah?” I winced in pain at the thought of what I’d just gone through. “It sure felt like I had my ass handed to me.”

  Mom brought her hand up to her mouth, fighting back tears.

  “The important thing is that you got Richter away from the city. You let people know your intentions, and that’s what’s most important.” Dad had a sly smile on his face. “Who knows? People just might start to hope again.”

  THREE DAYS AFTER THE fight with Richter, it was still all over the news. Everyone was talking about it on social media too. I stood in the kitchen leaning up against the bar with my phone out, scrolling through one of the many Trending Topics on Twitter that had to do with our battle. (Although I wasn’t really sure you could call it a “battle” when really he just beat the crap out of me, then we talked for a bit.) Thankfully there were no cameras in the Washington State mountains, because a lot of people would be very disappointed, and they definitely wouldn’t be calling it a battle.

  I had a feeling that they’d be getting the real battle they wanted eventually, though.

  “Suit’s ready,” Mom said as she walked into the kitchen, breaking me from my train of thought.

  I looked up. “Oh, yeah? Thanks, Mom.”

  She pulled a glass from the counter and began filling it with water. “It was a real pain to patch up. Try not to get it so torn up again, alright?”

  I chuckled. “I’ll try, Mom.” I had a feeling she meant that more because a torn-up suit meant I’d been in danger, and not because it meant a lot of work for her.

  Mom took a couple of gulps of water before placing the glass down on the counter. “Where’s your dad?” she asked as I turned my attention back to my phone and its Twitter feed.

  “I think I heard him say he had to do something with the horses.” I began to check out of the conversation and pick up my reading pace. I was able to go through a tweet every second. My phone was having a hard time keeping up.

  “Will you run out there and ask him what we’re doing for dinner?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. The tweets were getting good. People were talking about how excited they were about my appearance; how they wished they could be me and give Richter a good punch or two. And I will admit, that last punch I’d given him was pretty solid. I wished there were cameras around to capture that Kodak moment.

  “Kane!” my mom all but shouted, breaking me from my train of thought.

  “Right. Sorry.” I locked my phone and put it in my pocket. I lifted up my wrist, clicked the stopwatch feature on my watch, and it began to count.

  Everything slowed around me as I began to run toward the door with my super speed. Running so fast was almost like being teleported to another world. Everything around me was in slow motion, and had its own brand-new beauty.

  I opened the front door and ran through it, closing it softly behind me. If I were to accidentally slam it, it’d probably bring the house down.

  One second.

  I ran down the driveway, and onto the worn path in the grass that led to our large red barn.

  Two seconds.

  I looked out at the horses, who seemed to be frozen mid-stride. They were no doubt galloping, feeling as free and fast as the wind. I smirked at the idea. If only they knew that I was going so fast that to me it seemed like they weren’t moving at all. But they were horses, so I began laughing at how exactly I would explain that to them.

  Three seconds.

  I ran into the barn and came to a stop. I stopped the stopwatch.

  “How fast was that?” Dad asked me as he closed the gate on the goat pen. He wasn’t even facing me; he could tell it was me by the sudden gust of wind.

  “Three seconds,” I said, disappointed.

  “Why do you sound so disappointed that you ran two hundred yards in three seconds?” Dad said with a laugh.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d just be nice to be faster than a bullet or something. I’m sure those things would hurt like hell.”

  Dad laughed. “Wow, son, I’d be happy to be able to run as fast as I did in high school. I was one of the best running backs my high school had ever seen.” Dad had a glimmer in his eye just thinking about it. He wiped his hands on a rag as he walked over to me. The two of us began walking back to the house.

  I felt a twinge of guilt nag at me. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I just want to be the best I can, you know?”

  Dad nodded and put his right arm around me. “I think you’re still doing pretty good.”

  “I know, I just wish pretty good was enough. I need to push myself if I’m going to stop Richter.”

  “Well, Richter’s really the only person you can practice on, so don’t take it out on yourself, alright?” Dad said with a pat on my shoulder.

  I nodded. “Yeah, okay.” I admired and was thankful for Dad’s intentions, but they didn’t really help that much. On one hand, I had all these people talking about how great I was and how much they wished they were me, while on the other hand I knew the truth, and that was that I was nowhere near good enough to beat Richter. The only times I’d been able to get a punch in were if I had the element of surprise on my side, and I knew that it was going to take way more than one or two punches to take Richter down.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering what I’d come out to get Dad for, a few feet away from the front door. “Mom wants to know what’s for dinner.”

  “I’m picking up a pizza for your mom and me.” Dad turned to face me with one hand on the doorknob. “You, on the other hand, are going to hang out with Macy and everybody else.”

  I couldn’t believe it, but I actually let out a groan. “I really just want to stay home and watch TV, Dad.”

  Dad shook his head. “No, Kane. You need to see your friends. Go hang out with them. It’ll do you some good. Don’t forget you’re Kane Andrews, not just...” Bewilderment crossed Dad’s face. “Whatever your Super name is. We really need to come up with something.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we do. I’m getting tired of being called ‘the other Super guy.’”

  Dad opened the door and the two of us walked in. “Oh, really? I kinda like the sound of that. ‘The Other Super Guy.’ I dig it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please, Dad. You’re not funny,” I said with a slight smile, letting him know I was being sarcastic.

  I went upstairs to my room to get changed out of my basketball shorts and T-shirt. I threw on a pair of jeans and a dark blue Henley, then grabbed my phone to text the gang to let them know I wanted to hang out. Before I could do that, an alert popped up on my phone from one of my news apps.

  Breaking News: 15 People Taken Hostage—Mostly Women and Children—Inside Church on Texas-Mexico Border.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  I ran downstairs. “Mom! Dad!” I shouted.

  “Kitchen!” Mom called.

  I ran into the kitchen with super speed, causing the two of them to jump when I suddenly appeared in front of them. “I need my suit,” I said.

  “What for?” Mom asked.

  I read them the headline and Mom shook her head the entire time.

  “The police can handle it,” she said.

  “They might be able to handle it. This is the Texas-Mexico border we’re talking here. The cartel kills people down there all the time. Fifteen people are nothing to them. I know I can save them. It’d not only give me a chance to practice my skills—which I’ll remind you are not good enough to take on Richter—and it’ll let people know once and for all that I’m on their side.”

  Dad looked at the floor, deep in thought. I could tell by the look on his face that he agreed with me; he was just trying to figure out a way to tell that to Mom.

  “I’m going,” I said. “Whether you like it—or hell, even whether I like it or not—I have to. It’s my responsibility.” With that, I turned and grabbed my suit off the counter. I put it on as I went out the door and launched into the air, beginning my ten-minute flight to Texas.

&n
bsp; Interference

  I hovered above the warehouse where, just below, I could see dozens of police and SWAT vehicles in the parking lot of the building, along with news vans and their crews scrambling to set up shop. Their flashing lights were pulsating bright as the sun began to go down.

  I trained my super-hearing on the command center, listening in to their conversation.

  “Two men by the door, and one more that we know of who’s the one communicating with us. There’s no way to tell how many more there are in the room with the hostages.”

  “And which room would that be?” an older gentleman with a Hispanic accent asked.

  The young man who had been speaking earlier answered. “We believe they’re holed up in a manager’s office toward the middle of the warehouse. We’re in the process of getting cameras on the inside in order to know for sure.”

  I turned my attention to the warehouse itself. It was a large one, about the size of a football field. There were holes spread out across the ceiling in varying sizes, put there by rust and erosion. Broken windows lined almost the entire upper part of the wall where it met with the ceiling. I flew to the back of the warehouse. I made my eyes stop glowing, not wanting to be seen. I then flew to the ground as fast and quietly as I could, trying my best to stay out of sight.

  I leaned against the warehouse, trying to make myself as small as I could. I listened carefully, but didn’t hear anybody coming my way. I still had the element of surprise on my side, which had been the thing to thank for any of the small victories I’d had so far. I intended to keep it on my side for as long as possible, although I knew that I’d have to get my hands dirty at some point. I had to if I planned on not having Richter handing my ass to me next time we met.