Thrusts of Justice (Chooseomatic Books) Page 6

  The villains scatter. A short man holding a fancy little tablet computer enters and points to the old guy with the monocle. “Doctor Diabolus,” he says. “He’s on the list.” One of the Guardians fires a blue beam from its gauntlet, which drops the doctor like a sack of meat. The Guardian then scoops him up into a burlap sack. Whoa. No interstellar Miranda rights, then? That doesn’t seem right.

  “The Ox,” the tablet man says. “Priority one! He’s on the list!”

  ▶ If your plan was to gather evidence to bust these evildoers, it looks like that’s pretty well taken care of. If you step back and let the space police do their job, click here for page 177.

  ▶ Then again, you’re starting to genuinely like the Ox. If you help him fight them off, click here for page 124.

  62

  The thing is, when you’re the size of a dust mote, it takes an incredibly long time to even get to a person’s adrenal gland, much less overload it to the point where he or she passes out. While your cosmic space armor is being systematically ripped to shreds, your partner is still doing his Fantastic Voyage schtick somewhere along the pulmonary artery.

  Also, you should know that the Ox isn’t actually trying to kill you. In his many years of bank robbing, street brawling, and general all-purpose supervillainy, he’s become remarkably adept at judging how much punishment the human body can take. And even though you kept pushing and pushing until you pushed him right over the edge, he had every reason to believe the thrashing he gave you was just enough to leave you in a good solid coma for a couple of days. For whatever that’s worth.

  So it’s not the Ox’s beating that technically kills you, but for one reason or another (ooh, cryptic), you’re dead before you ever wake up from it.

  THE END

  63

  The suit is giving you a powerful fight-or-flight vibe, and since “Calmly defuse the situation” doesn’t seem to appear on that list, you opt for flight. You scoot out the back, take to the air, and, for lack of a better destination, finally settle atop Key Tower, Cleveland’s tallest building. Things should be reasonably private up there. Before you have a chance to tackle your next problem (finding an unsecured wifi signal), you hear a muffled sound coming from somewhere near your left leg and realize that your cell phone is ringing. By the time you extract it from the suit, you’ve missed the call, but discover it was from Dale. In fact, he’s left you three phone messages and seven texts.

  You call him back, trying to sound nonchalant. “Dale, what’s up?”

  “What do you mean, what’s up?” He sounds jittery. “I’m back at the bar. Can you meet me here? We really need to talk about what just happened.”

  “Um, nothing happened,” you say. “Mine was a dead end.”

  “Oh, something happened, all right,” Dale says. He couldn’t possibly know about the Guardian armor, could he? Then again, he is an investigative journalist. And as Mrs. Pinkett proved, so far you’ve earned zero points for stealth.

  “Something amazing happened,” he continues. “You might even say something… super.”

  Yeah, he knows.

  ▶ If you agree to meet Dale at the bar, click here for page 134.

  ▶ If you think it’s wiser not to meet him and hope it all blows over, click here for page 280.

  64

  “Sten Janssen is dead,” you say. “He sacrificed himself saving Cleveland from a meteor. I was there, and the suit just… came to me.”

  If Agent Moretti doubts your story, it doesn’t show on his face. “Then you’re worthy of it. The Cosmic Guard has proven time and again that its judgment and honor are beyond reproach. In fact, that’s why we signaled for you.” Moretti explains that he works for a top-secret government project, and they’ve uncovered a conspiracy involving dozens of villains who’ve never been known to work together before. They’ve also found evidence of a potential superhero traitor, so they’re reluctant to turn to the Justice Squadron or the Phenomenal Three.

  “It’s been a long time, but we need the Cosmic Guard once again,” he says. “Our first priority is to stop the Ox. He’s a lunkhead, but he’s invulnerable to just about everything, including your built-in weaponry. In league with a criminal mastermind, he could become unstoppable.”

  That explains the asswhupping, at least. “Take this,” Moretti says, handing you a small electronic device. “Plug it into your helmet. It’ll let us track your movements and keep us in constant contact.” He gestures toward the helicopter with his thumb. “I’ll debrief you further on the way to headquarters.”

  A job with the U.S. government would be a pretty sweet gig. And it sounds like they know a lot more about the whole Cosmic Guardian business than you do. Then again, how much do you know about this Moretti guy? Can you trust him?

  ▶ If you take the communicator and get in the helicopter, click here for page 172.

  ▶ If you tell Moretti you’d rather remain a free agent for now, click here for page 58.

  65

  Maggie leaps out the open window to head off the attackers. Whatever this new threat is, you have complete faith in the old bird’s abilities. Now to do your job. You manage to break Crexidyne network security with minimal effort. The sheer volume of the data would be daunting to a lesser human being, but you’re an entry-level newspaper reporter. Sifting through mountains of poorly organized records could be your superpower. You dig up everything you can find on superheroes and villains. A folder labeled “Hostile Takeover” looks interesting as well.

  Outside, it sounds like a war zone. Magnifica’s opponents appear to be alien creatures of incredible variety dressed in Cosmic Guardian uniforms, and she’s knocking them out of the sky with her bare fists as quickly as they come at her. Far below, the streets are in chaos as people flee in panic, hoping to avoid debris and falling aliens. She seems to have things pretty well under control, so you begin to dig though the Crexidyne files.

  What you find isn’t good. It appears Crexidyne is responsible for every superhero and villain in the past two decades. They conducted experiments on anyone who agreed to swear loyalty to them, then wiped the subjects’ minds of the incident, leaving them to discover their superpowers and make their own way in the world. Some chose a life of crime and others sought the glory of the hero, but eventually all would have their memories restored and be called upon to pay the piper.

  The first such activation was Magnifico, just last week. You start sifting through the files of other superhumans, and discover that from the Justice Squadron all the way down to the low-level street thugs, the rest were all activated and called into service on the same day. Yesterday.

  And it only gets worse. The “Hostile Takeover” file is a series of personal communications between Moretti and a nearly unintelligible Reginald Thorpe. Seriously, most of his emails border on gibberish — how does this guy run a corporation? He gives a lengthy series of very specific, if rambling, instructions on how to prepare for new management, assuring Moretti that he’ll still retain his position after the new owners take over. Hmm. How can a takeover be considered hostile when the CEO is so clearly on board with it?

  That’s when you realize that it isn’t a takeover of Crexidyne Megacorp. It’s a takeover of the planet Earth. And according to these memos, it’s happening right now.

  You check your computer for media reports and discover that supervillains are attacking national monuments all over the world. The international media is going wild over it. More disturbing, though, are a few sketchy reports of some kind of sudden biological outbreak in southern Chile. You can’t seem to find any additional information, though, because all communications in the area have gone down.

  In fact, you find more blackouts in the northern tips of Greenland and Canada. Whatever’s happening, it’s starting at the North and South Poles and spreading rapidly.

  “Maggie, we have to go!” If this is a full-scale alien invasion, you’d better get to the bottom of it fast. The bogeys that have been dive-bombing Magnifica se
em to be in retreat now, but one huge, human-shaped Guardian is approaching, hefting a large, glowing orb. Magnifica spots him and changes course to intercept, but she suddenly shudders, freezing up in mid-air and then dropping to the streets below like a rock.

  Magnifico said they could take his powers away.

  “Maggie!”

  You toss a grappling hook at the window frame and leap out of it. You have nowhere near enough rope to rappel 60 stories, but cut the wire halfway through, throwing a second line to slow your fall as you approach to the ground.

  You find Magnifica in one piece, but badly broken. “Tachyon,” she gasps as you cradle her head in your arms. “Tachyon… there’s no more time… .”

  She’s gone.

  Tachyon. The time traveler. Was Magnifica trying to tell you to find him? Or, in her final moments, did she think you were Tachyon? According to your files, he’s in a hospital in Connecticut. Your Ford Taurus is still here in New York where you left it last night — you could be there in a couple of hours.

  To do what? Watch another legend die? Tachyon is in a coma. And if those spreading power blackouts are linked to a full-scale invasion, time is short. Your jet is still in southern Florida, but if you can find a way back to it, you could fly to the North Pole and see what’s happening for yourself.

  ▶ If you think Tachyon is your last, best hope to save the world, click here for page 218.

  ▶ If you’d rather take matters into your own hands, click here for page 279.

  68

  Dale and Melah are your closest friends — if you can’t trust them with your secrets, you can’t trust anyone. And you can always call in the big guns later after they help you figure out what’s going on. You give your friends a call. It turns out they’re both here in New York as well, although they seem to have come independently of one another. Which is odd, considering it took you eight hours to get here by car — did they both split town immediately after you separated? Did neither of them think it was worth staying to cover the bank robbery for ClevelandNewsExplosion.com? Oh, well. A ride in your fancy new plane will just have to wait.

  You make plans to meet them in a secluded alley near the underground hangar — all the better for dramatically unveiling your new identity, you figure. When you arrive at the spot, you pose yourself carefully on a ledge and wait. And wait. And wait some more. An hour later, you’re still waiting. Melah and Dale aren’t answering their phones, and now your legs are cramping up like crazy. You’ve just about decided to move on to plan B when you spot a lone figure approaching in the alley beneath you.

  It isn’t either of your friends, unless one of them has taken to dressing in a shiny purple bodysuit. Since your spiffy new goggles feature infrared vision and telescopic lenses, you zoom in for a better look. The mysterious stranger is definitely female, and quite fit — her skin-tight outfit covers her from head to toe but leaves little to the imagination. She’s sprinting down the alley at an impressive clip, and just as she’s about to pass you, she makes a flying leap onto the building across the way, clearing about ten feet of it and sticking to the wall like glue. It’s a neat trick.

  You soon discover what she’s running from: the Cosmic Guardian appears at the other end of the alley, rocketing toward her. She flings a couple of gooey purple blobs from the palms of her hands at him but they just splatter harmlessly against his blue, metallic battlesuit. Then she makes a motion like she’s throwing a baseball and stretches her arm 20 feet toward her attacker, grabbing his shoulder. She jumps from her perch, swings around in a wide arc, and affixes herself to his back.

  Well, there’s your superhero team-up right there. You’ll have to move quickly if you want to get in on the action, though — the Guardian changes course in mid-air and launches straight up into the sky. Your grappling hook has a magnetic clamp on it — with a lucky throw you could attach it to him and tag along, helping him subdue this miscreant, whoever she is.

  But is that really the best way to introduce yourself to the Cosmic Guardian? And anyway, didn’t Nancy say the only person you could really trust was in Florida somewhere? Surely the Guardian can handle one stretchy purple villain by himself.

  It’s clear that your friends have ditched you. Perhaps you should just go back to your supersonic jet and look for help elsewhere.

  ▶ If you chuck your grappling hook at the pair of them and join the fray, click here for page 95.

  ▶ If you skip it and head south to the Sunshine State, click here for page 150.

  70

  New York is a long drive from Cleveland, but if you leave now, you can make it before midnight. You grab a few things from your apartment and then spend most of your journey trying to come up with a decent superhero name. Let’s see — you can excrete and control a gooey purple substance, and stretch one arm really far. From a branding perspective, it’s not great. The Purple Protector? Globulon? Fantastic Elastic? Each of your ideas sounds worse than the last, and to be honest, none of them are any better than the Latex Avenger.

  Speaking of which, you’re gaining more and more control of your bendy appendage, and when you finally reach the city you find you can stretch it at least fifteen or twenty feet. You arrange your malleable goo coating into something resembling a costume and park your car in the worst neighborhood you can find. You’re looking for trouble.

  Trouble is surprisingly difficult to find. A few strangers give you menacing glares, but if they’re up to no good, they’re certainly not advertising it. How do real superheroes do this? Should you come back on a weekend? By 2:30 or so you’re almost ready to give up. That’s when you hear a lone voice cry out in the night.

  “Hey! That’s my bike!”

  You rush around the corner to see a man in his early twenties cursing at a bicyclist disappearing down the street. Honestly? This is the kind of justice you could probably be dishing out back in Cleveland. Still, a crime is being committed. It may not be earth-shattering and it may not be glamorous. Based on the way he’s dressed, the victim may even be a bit of a douche. But being a hero means doing what’s right, regardless of the glory. Some hood thinks he can just go around stealing bikes? In your town?

  Not on the Purple… Gooey… wow, you’ve still got nothing. Not on your watch.

  You hurl your right arm at a lightpost halfway down the street and retract, pulling yourself forward. It works! Slingshotting into the air, you shoot out your arm again, hoping it finds purchase before you hit the ground. Fortunately, your goop can adhere to just about anything. It’s mildly terrifying, but your new mode of transportation is also pretty damn fun. And fast! You should catch up with the bicycle miscreant in no time!

  You hear the crack of thunder, and a simultaneous flash of light illuminates the cloudless sky. You spot Lightning Queen, a notoriously vicious supervillain, hovering above a nearby liquor store and throwing down with the Cosmic Guardian. Scratch that — two Cosmic Guardians. You didn’t even know there were two Cosmic Guardians. This is the kind of thing you came to New York for!

  ▶ Team-up time! If you forget about the bike thief and grab a seat at the big kids’ table, click here for page 233.

  ▶ Wait, what about that whole doing-what’s-right speech? Between two Cosmic Guardians, they probably have this covered. If you feel that it’s your duty to recover the stolen bike, click here for page 156.

  72

  Since there’s no one with superpowers under the age of 60 on your “trust maybe” list (at least, no one who isn’t a convicted felon), you settle on the Human Torpedo. He’s one of Magnifica’s Liberty Patrol contemporaries, but he’s remained in the public eye since retiring, and from all accounts is still healthy as a horse. However, when you show up at his beachfront San Diego home the following morning (after a surprisingly cozy nap in your plane’s cockpit), he’s not looking quite so fit.

  “Nnnnnnngggg,” he says, greeting you in his spacious backyard after you’ve landed the jet. He’s in a robe, slippers, and swim trunks, and you get t
he distinct impression he’s just come off a three-day bender. “You say you’re Nightwatchman’s new protégé, huh? And he’s training you to take over for him? Gave you his costume, and his jet and everything?” He takes a long swig of coffee from an enormous mug. “Sure, I can see that. Hey, Obie! I told you the whole sidekick thing would catch on!”

  A thin man who’s maybe two or three years older than you with blue skin and fins for ears pokes his head out of the kitchen. And if Human Torpedo is a little the worse for wear, his former partner Ocean Boy looks like death warmed over. Human Torpedo — or Chuck, as he insists you call him — invites you inside and promptly dumps his coffee out in the sink, replacing it with something brown and foul-smelling from a glass jug almost as big around as he is.

  “Little hair of the dog is what I need,” he says. “Genuine eighteenth-century pirate rum, found it on a sunken ship myself. Care for any?”

  You politely decline. If that’s what bit these two, you’d just as soon stay clear. “You know,” Chuck says as you take a seat at his kitchen table, “I got the chance to put on the old cloak and goggles a couple of times in my day, too. Secret identity stuff, when N-Dub had to be in two places at once to throw somebody off the trail. And I’ll tell you, being the Human Torpedo was great, but being Nightwatchman was something else altogether. Guys would crap bullets when they ran into me in a dark alley dressed like that.”

  Before Chuck has the chance to wander further down memory lane, the screen on your gauntlet starts flashing. It’s some sort of built-in supervillain alarm — three criminals known as Lightning Queen, Doctor Diabolus, and the Turtle have launched a full-scale attack on the nation’s capitol in Washington, D.C. “Perfect!” Chuck exclaims. “What are we waiting for? C’mon, Obie. This’ll be way more fun than beating up orca whales.”