The Superhero's Son Omnibus Volume 2

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

I walked down the empty hallways of the University of Fallsville, my backpack hefted over my shoulders and my suit-up watch wrapped securely around my wrist. The college hallways were wide and airy, which made their emptiness seem all the more eerie.

By my side walked Mimic, who had changed his appearance to that of a burly bodyguard with dragon and snake tattoos on his arms. He also had about a dozen guns strapped to every part of his body, most of it hidden underneath his clothing, though some, like the pistol on his hip, were very obvious.

As we walked, I looked out every window that we passed or into the open doorway of every classroom we passed, but I never saw Robert anywhere. I expected him to show up and attack us now, because Robert should have known where I was.

When Mimic and I turned a corner and started walking up a set of stairs to the next floor, I tapped my earcom and muttered, “Valerie, has Robert been spotted yet?”

“Not yet,” came Valerie's matter of fact voice. “The G-Men stationed outside have not yet seen him enter the campus. But they are keeping an eye on the sky and the entrances to the school, so if Robert does show, they will know and will be able to keep him from getting too deep into the school.”

I nodded. “Thanks. Keep me posted.”

I lowered my hand from my ear as Mimic and I reached the second floor and then turned right down a hallway that would lead to Professor Hernandez's office. I thought about our plan as we walked, because I was too nervous to talk about it aloud, especially with Mimic, who seemed even more nervous than me despite all of his weapons.

Three days ago, I had spoken with Renaissance about sending me to the University of Fallsville to not only meet with Professor Hernandez, but also to act as a lure to bring out Robert. We were working off the idea that Robert was just waiting for me to reappear on the surface, which seemed to be the most likely explanation for why he had yet to be found despite the G-Men, NHA, and INJ searching for him. The idea was that I would go to UF on the pretense of meeting with Professor Hernandez while the G-Men would set up an ambush around the school in case Robert showed up.

Renaissance had run this idea by Cadmus, who had approved it almost without hesitation. I was surprised by that, because I thought for sure that Cadmus would consider it an unnecessary risk, but I guess that Cadmus must have thought it would have a chance of working or something. Or maybe he was just getting tired of Robert getting away with killing his agents and was willing to try anything that might help stop Robert once and for all.

In any case, when the plan was approved, Dad, Renaissance, and I had spent the first day or so getting all the details of the plan hammered out.

The most obvious part was making sure that no one was in the school when I went there, aside from Professor Hernandez, who had agreed to be part of the plan when we called him. Luckily for us, it was spring break, so all of the UF students and faculty were away having fun on the beach or going on vacations with their family, two things I wasn't going to be doing today or anytime soon.

Another problem was making sure Robert knew about my trip to the school. It was decided that the 'rumor' of my meeting with Professor Hernandez would be 'leaked' on Neo Ranks, which Robert was believed to use, if only because it was the largest source of superhuman and neohero news on the web and was likely being monitored by Robert or his Visionist allies. Renaissance actually informed me that the G-Men would occasionally 'leak' false or partly true, rumors on Neo Ranks in order to lure out certain supervillains or criminals from hiding, which made me wonder exactly how many of the rumors on there were true and how many were just government plants meant to push a particular agenda.

Anyway, the G-Men put up a 'leak' there two days ago saying that I might be going to visit Professor Hernandez in Fallsville. Of course, they used my superhero name, Bolt, but Robert would know regardless.

With that in play, the thing next for me to do was to go to the University of Fallsville and meet with the professor. That was what Mimic and I were doing right now, walking through the empty hallways of the school, making our way to Professor Hernandez's office. Mimic had come along to protect me in case Robert somehow made it into the school, but I didn't know how Mimic even could protect me. His powers, after all, gave him the ability to shape-shift, which did not include super strength or anything else like that. He had a load of guns, true, but when you can run faster than a bullet and create earthquakes just by thinking, I doubted that a few bullets would be enough to even just slow Robert down.

Even Dad was in on the mission. He had wanted to come along so he could provide more powerless gas to the G-Men in the event that their one shot missed. He had even slipped me a small vial of the stuff, which I carried in my pocket, just in case Robert somehow got past the people outside and came directly for me.

Finally, after walking down the hallway, we reached a door labeled 'OFFICE OF PROFESSOR NATHANIEL HERNANDEZ, PROFESSOR OF NEOGENETICS AND NEUROLOGY.' I knocked on the door and heard a low, somewhat fearful voice on the other side say, “Come in,” so I opened the door and entered, with Mimic following behind me.

Professor Hernandez's office was a small, neat room. Books were placed inside bookshelves neatly and alphabetically, while other books were stacked on top of each other on tables or desks against the walls. The windows were closed, but the light from the ceiling showed that the blinds were almost sparklingly clean. On the back wall was a bunch of different certificates and diplomas framed like pictures, which I assumed were the various certificates and degrees that Professor Hernandez had earned or been awarded over his career. There was also a large diagram of a human brain, which was labeled 'SUPERHUMAN BRAIN' with arrows pointing toward various parts of the brain explaining what each part did.

Sitting behind a desk at the back wall was Professor Hernandez himself. He was an elderly Hispanic man wearing small glasses and an old-fashioned sweater vest. Even while sitting, he looked much smaller than me or Mimic, like he had shrunken over the years. On the desk in front of him was a leather, black box with no labels on it, but I figured it had to have something important, given the large padlock hanging off it. Next to the box was a small, bronze, duck-shaped paperweight on top of a large stack of papers.

“Professor Hernandez?” I said as Mimic and I stopped.

“Why, hello there,” said Professor Hernandez. He smiled somewhat timidly. “Are you Bolt and Mimic?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “We're here for the meeting, just as we agreed.”

“Oh, good,” said Professor Hernandez. He glanced at the closed window. “Has Robert Candle been spotted yet?”

“No, Professor,” said Mimic, shaking his head. “Robert Candle has not yet been spotted trying to enter the school. At least, we haven't received any reports from the people outside yet.”

“I see,” said Hernandez. He sounded worried. “And if he comes, you will be able to stop him, yes?”

“Hopefully,” said Mimic. “We have a dozen of our best agents here at various points around the campus. Assuming Robert shows up, he will be in for a nasty surprise.”

“Good, good,” said Hernandez. “But since you two are going to be here for a while, why don't you sit down and we can talk? I think that would be more comfortable than standing.”

“Okay,” I said as I walked over and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. I looked over at Mimic, who had not come over. “Mimic, are you going to sit down?”

“No,” said Mimic. He gestured at the window. “I want to be ready in case Robert attacks.”

“Okay,” I said. I turned my attention back to Hernandez. “It's nice to meet you, Professor. My dad told me about you.”

“Your dad is Genius, correct?” said Hernandez. “I remember him well, because he was your age when we first met. He was very serious and intellectual. Is he still like that? I haven't spoken to him in years.”

I nodded. “Yeah, mostly. But he's developed a sense of humor since then.”

“Really? I almost thought he was incapable of joking,” said Hernandez. “Much like his own father, only …”

Hernandez trailed off, like he had just realized that he was about to walk into a topic he shouldn't have brought up. I was reminded of when Mom had said that she had promised Dad that she would never tell me about Dad's parents, which made me wonder what Hernandez and Mom knew that they didn't want me knowing.

I was just about to ask that when Hernandez suddenly said, “But anyway, that's not what we're here to talk about. You wanted to talk about your lost powers, correct?”

I nodded. “Yes. Robert Candle stole my powers from me about two weeks ago now. I was hoping that you could help me figure out how to get them back. I have a friend who told me that you might be able to do that. Can you?”

Professor Hernandez drummed his fingers against his desk, as if he was unsure what to say next. Or as if he was about to say something that could get him into trouble but which he thought he needed to say anyway.

Finally, Hernandez said, “Your friend wasn't exactly wrong, but he wasn't exactly right, either.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “Can you actually give me back my powers?”

“Well, I need to explain some things first,” said Hernandez. “You see, it is commonly accepted that the powers manifested by superhumans are genetic in origin. More specifically, they originate from somewhere in the human brain.”

“Yeah, but don't tell the Visionists that,” I said. “Otherwise they'll get offended and try to kill you.”

“Funny that you should mention the Visionists,” said Hernandez. “It was the near death of their leader, Barnabas Sagan, that helped me understand better how the brain controls and manifests powers. I managed to look at some MRI scans of his brain after he was shot and I learned some very interesting things from it, though I will still need to do more research to confirm just how brain trauma affects the superhuman brain.”

“So you aren't going to tell me what you've learned, then,” I said.

“Not yet, given that I haven't even published my own theories just yet,” said Hernandez. “Nonetheless, I have used what I learned to figure out whether it is indeed possible to 'turn off' superpowers.”

“So you know how to do that, then?” I said.

“In a way,” said Hernandez. “But not perfectly. I have my theories about how one could, with genetic modification, 'turn off' or 'turn on' superpowers at will, but it is considerably different from what you might be thinking.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“I mean that there is no 'off switch,' as the media sometimes like to say whenever they report on the topic of neogenetic manipulation,” said Hernandez. He sounded disgusted. “Journalists tend to simplify these things, partly because they don't have the time to read and understand the studies, and partly because they just aren't very smart.”

“Okay, if there is no 'off switch' in the brain, then what is there?” I said. “Can you describe it to me?”

“The current evidence seems to suggest that superpowers arise from a complex combination of different areas of the brain working together to create something much larger than their individual parts,” said Hernandez. “It is similar to the way consciousness—another mystery of the brain—works, but still different, if only because I still haven't been able to explain why some certain superhumans shoot fire from their hands and others fly.”

My shoulders slumped. “So are you saying it may be impossible to get my powers back? After all, if there's no off switch, I assume there's no on switch, either.”

“Not exactly,” said Hernandez, shaking his head. “In fact, I don't believe you or any of Robert's other victims have lost your powers at all.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Um, Professor, I can't fly or lift super heavy things or run at the speed of sound anymore. I'm pretty sure I've lost my powers. It's what I've been angsting about this whole time.”

“I know you can't use your powers,” said Hernandez. “We speak of Robert 'stealing' powers, but I think that is nonsensical. It is like talking about 'stealing' someone's eye color or 'stealing' someone's skin color. It's just not possible, based on what we know about how genetics work.”

“But then what is Robert actually doing?” I said. “If he's not stealing my powers, then how come I can't use mine while he can?”

“Simply put, I believe that Robert Candle's actual power is genetic manipulation,” said Hernandez. “Through a way I don't understand completely just yet, I believe that Robert is capable of altering your brain structure to that of a normal human, which essentially puts your superpowers into hibernation. At the same time, his own brain is copying yours so he can use your powers himself.”

“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.”