Mutation (3 page)

Chapter 4

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s simple enough,” Gray said.  “You’re going to be attending the Academy in-residence, learning what it means to be a superhero along with hundreds of other students.  It may come as a surprise, but it’s the single largest gathering of superpowered beings that we know of.”

“It’s a bunch of kids!” I shouted.  “A bunch of teenagers, all still in high school.  That’s all the Academy is:  a big high school for teen supers.”

“Some of whom are incredibly powerful,” Gray added.  “Like yourself.  The whole world saw how you singlehandedly took down the Alpha League following your tryout.”

I frowned and shamefully lowered my head.  Two years earlier, during the ceremony to induct me as a Teen Super with the Alpha League, an altercation with another teen had erupted into a full-scale battle with me on one side and a bunch of superheroes on the other.  In retrospect, no one really blamed me for what happened, but the incident was a major embarrassment for everyone involved - especially since it was all caught on tape.

“Are you trying to say that supers - even
terrestrial
supers - now fall under your purview?” Gramps asked.

“I’m saying that whatever I decide is under my purview is what’s under my purview,” Gray smirked.  “Think of me as a modern-day J.  Edgar Hoover, but without the same limitations on authority.  So if I decide it’s supers, then it’s supers.”

That sounded bad - on several levels.

“Since when?” my grandfather demanded.

“Since a bunch of so-called superheroes went rogue and tried to take over the world!”

“First of all, those were super teens, not full-fledged capes,” Gramps retorted.  “Number two, Jim here is the reason they failed.  You should be giving him a medal, not harassing him.”

Gray snorted dismissively.  “Well, before you get too generous with bestowing glory on your grandson, bear in mind that Paramount, the leader of that rogue group, was his brother.”

“Uh, half-brother,” I corrected.  “And we never had any familial interaction.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gray said.  “You’re guilty by association.”

I raised my hands in exasperation.  “How can I be guilty by association regarding someone I never associated with?  Paramount didn’t even know we were related!”

“So says you,” Gray countered.  “But back to the subject at hand - the Academy.  As you stated, Jim, the majority of the population there is a bunch of kids.  Teens like yourself.  Young, immature to some extent, and probably very impressionable.”

“That’s teens everywhere,” I said.

“True,” Gray admitted, “but the teens at most high schools don’t pack enough combined firepower to destroy the planet ten times over.  And right now, we don’t have a firm idea of what they’re being taught.”

“Huh?” My grandfather interjected.  “Are you telling me that you can’t get information about what goes on at the Academy?  That’s a crock!”

“We get reports, true enough,” Gray stated.  “But we’ve got no way to verify their accuracy.  What do we really know about what those kids are being taught?  What are they learning about patriotism?  Love of country?  Loyalty to their home planet?  Paramount’s entire clique consisted of people at that school, so we need better intel on what’s going on there.”

“So that’s how it happened,” Gramps said.  “This increase in power you’ve been given - including authority over supers - is a direct result of that incident with Paramount.”

“Incident” seemed too mild a word for it.  Led by Paramount, a group of super teens had joined forces with a half-dozen of the worst supervillains on the planet.  We managed to foil their plans, but it kind of left the superhero community with a black eye from a public relations standpoint.

“You always were a smart one, John,” Gray said in acquiescence.  “But the machinery to make the changes was already in the works.  That thing with Paramount just kind of greased the wheels, made it all happen quicker.”

My grandfather was clearly unimpressed.  “So now, instead of just bullying extraterrestrials, you also get to strong-arm kids like my grandson.”

“I’m not trying to muscle anybody.  I’m just asking young Jim here to show us where his loyalties lie by giving us a pair of eyes on the ground at the Academy.”

“You mean be a spy,” I said.  Gray just shrugged noncommittally.  “What if I don’t want to do it?”

“Then, after last night’s assault on Schaefer, I may have to declare you a danger and consider my options,” Gray stated sternly.  “But I’m a reasonable man.  You don’t leave for the Academy for another couple of days.  I’ll give you until then to think it over.”

He got up to leave, and the MIBs moved in unison to flank him as before.  They had been so still and silent during our conversation that I’d almost forgotten they were there.

As they were walking out the door, Gray stopped and turned to me.

“Just so we’re clear, I’ll be expecting your answer before you depart.” He handed me a card made of heavy white stock.  There was nothing but a phone number on it in a large, raised font.  “It would be a mistake to take off for the Academy without talking to me first.”

And with that, they were gone.

Chapter 5

“You knew,” I said to my grandfather after Gray and his entourage had left.  “You knew that Schaefer was a phony.”

My grandfather just shrugged.  “How’d you figure that out?”

“You.  Your reactions.  Normally, you blow your stack regarding anything that’s a threat to me or Mom.  But when I told you about Schaefer, you were just annoyed.”

“I was more irritated by the fact that you’d found out about it than the act itself.”

“Does Mom know?”

“Of course.”

I should have guessed as much.  She doesn’t put it on display very often, but Mom’s a powerful telepath in her own right.  There was even a time when she had ventured to become a superhero herself, but then I came along and derailed those plans before they’d come anywhere close to fruition.

“If she knew, then why did she go out with him?”

“To keep Gray and his crew off-guard,” Gramps responded.  “Did you think this was the first time they tried to get close to us?  To
you
?  If she continually turned down dates from all their agents, they would have figured out we were on to them.  This way, we avoided suspicion.”

“Until I screwed it up.” I was aghast at what I’d done.  It was like I’d blown someone’s cover on a secret mission.  Even worse, I’d done it for almost no reason, because Schaefer hadn’t really known anything.  He’d been aware that I was a super, and his initial assignment was to date Mom in order to get close to me.  Beyond that, however, his knowledge was severely limited.  (He didn’t even know who his contact, “Nighthawk,” actually was.) Apparently all of the mission-critical information was to be delivered to him later - presumably as part of the “Phase Two” I’d heard mentioned.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Gramps said with a smile.  “It’s pretty clear they were planning to approach you soon anyway.  You just pushed up their timetable.”

“So now what?”

“Now nothing.  You just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

“What about Gray’s offer?”

“You mean his ultimatum?  That’s up to you.  You’re old enough to start making these decisions for yourself.  But if you’re asking my advice, Gray’s considered a necessary evil by the powers that be, but he’s the last person you want to crawl into bed with.”

*****

After our conversation about Gray, Gramps took me for a driving lesson.  A few weeks earlier, I had been greatly ashamed when – after arranging to take a girl on a date – it came to light that I didn’t know how to drive.  (In my defense, being a teleporter and a speedster means that a car is a superfluous item.) Shortly thereafter, I had made daily driving lessons a high priority.  I had made a lot of progress, but was not quite proficient enough to get a license.

After the lesson ended, I teleported to an Alpha League safe house for my date with Electra.  The League’s headquarters had suffered extensive damage when Paramount went off the reservation.  Much of it had been repaired, but Mouse – the
de facto
head of the Alpha League – had decided to use the reconstruction to incorporate several significant changes.

“We’re rebuilding anyway,” he’d said.  “Why not use the opportunity to make some meaningful improvements?”

What those improvements were exactly had yet to be made common knowledge, but the upshot of it all was that the League was operating out of various safe houses for the moment.  Aside from Mouse’s lab, League HQ was not yet fully functional.

The safe house where I was meeting Electra was a boarded-up tenement in one of the worst parts of town.  It was flanked on one side by a notorious crackhouse, and on the other by a burned-out shell of a building that basically served as housing for a large number of homeless people.

To the outside world, the safe house appeared deserted, but it was definitely one of those instances where you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.  The interior was decidedly high-end in terms of layout, facilities, accommodations, and capabilities.  By way of example, the exterior doors on the ground floor appeared to be made of wood, but were actually reinforced steel encased in a wooden shell.  Many a crackhead had dislocated a shoulder or broken a toe trying to batter or kick their way in.  (And even if they had managed to get inside, the doorways were always guarded.)

There were two primary points of ingress and egress:  an unboarded door under the front stoop that led to the basement, and the roof.  I appeared in front of the basement door, as I always did, because it was situated in such a manner that no one could see me as I teleported in.

I stood there silently while unseen equipment scanned my biometrics, trying to determine if entry was authorized.  After about ten seconds, there was a soft click and the door cracked open.  I stepped inside and the door closed automatically behind me.  I was now in a small cube-shaped room, three of the walls of which were made of bulletproof glass.  Outside the room stood three guards – one to my left, one to my right, and one directly in front of me.  Despite the bulletproof glass, the two on the sides of the room held their weapons, semi-automatic assault rifles, at the ready (never mind the fact that I – in my loafers, khakis, golf shirt, and sports coat – hardly appeared threatening).  The third stood at a control panel and, via a two-way comm system, asked me a series of questions that verified my identity.

Being a shapeshifter, my abilities had required the League to adopt some additional security measures.  Fingerprints, retinal patterns, and voice-recognition software weren’t all that effective when dealing with someone who could change their appearance and voice at will.  In those circumstances, it paid to go old-school and just do a run-of-the-mill Q&A.

I passed the security check with flying colors, at which point a seam appeared in the glass in front of me.  It expanded, taking on the shape of a large vertically-standing rectangle, which then slid up into the ceiling, thereby providing an exit.  Had I failed the security check, two portholes would have appeared on the sides of the glass chamber, allowing the guards there to insert the barrels of their guns and fire at will.

I stepped out of the little glass room and towards the guard at the control panel.  To the left of where he was stationed was a set of elevator doors, which opened with a slight musical
ding
.  I stepped inside and pressed the button for the fifth floor, which was where I was meeting Electra.

The fifth floor was a common area/break room, offering food and drinks as well as various popular games such as table tennis.  One thing I had quickly noticed upon spending more time with the Alpha League was that they tended to spend liberally when it came to recreation; I had yet to visit one of their facilities that did not have swimming pools, video games, pool tables, or the like.  However, being a superhero is clearly a stressful and dangerous occupation, so I didn’t begrudge them these small perks.

The break room here fell in line with my expectations, but was fairly deserted.  League members were operating out of several safe houses around town, and those who weren’t out on missions were probably over at HQ, helping with reconstruction.  Thus, there were only about a half-dozen super teens scattered around the room, a couple of whom looked my way and waved.  Just a few weeks ago I had practically been mobbed by a group of super teens at League HQ after Mouse introduced me to them as the infamous Kid Sensation.  Now, just a few weeks later, the novelty of my presence had apparently worn off.

Speaking of Mouse, however, I was surprised to see him sitting at a nearby table, talking to Vixen.  Normally, if he wasn’t off on a mission, he was hard at work in his lab.  He waved me over.

“Have a seat,” he said as I approached.  I pulled up a chair and sat down.

Despite his moniker, Mouse wasn’t some tiny pipsqueak.  He was big – six-three or so – with an impressive (but not over-muscled) physique.  As always, he was clean-shaven, with jet-black hair and clear blue eyes.  All in all, he would have been the consummate matinee idol a few decades ago, and as it was, a lot of the females among the super teens had mad crushes on him.

Vixen was a Siren, so by definition she was a complete stunner.  The League’s trademark black-and-gold uniform, which both she and Mouse wore, emphasized the fact that she was the female form perfected, and with luxurious red hair and clear, flawless skin.  She’d never really done anything untoward with respect to me, but she was one of the few supers I usually kept my guard up around.  As a Siren, she was also empathic, with the power to manipulate the opposite sex, and as an empath myself, I generally found myself remaining on edge in her presence.

“So, how’s everything going?” Mouse asked.

“Great until I got here,” I said.  “You guys couldn’t find an unoccupied landfill to operate out of?”

“Funny,” Mouse responded without conviction.  “The purpose of a safe house is to provide a secure location where you’ll be safe from actual and potential danger, preferably a place where your enemies won’t think to look for you.”

“And no one will think to look for the world’s premiere superhero team at Crack Market Central.”

“No, they won’t,” Mouse said, “and it’s not that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” Vixen interjected, “since you get to spend all of your time back at HQ in your lab.”

“Don’t take his side,” Mouse said, shaking his head.  “He already thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.  I don’t need him thinking he’s right all the time.”

The conversation then devolved into a little debate between the two of them.  It wasn’t common knowledge, but Vixen and Mouse were a couple.  I hadn’t seen any overt displays of affection between them, but I had picked up on the emotions they exuded in each other’s presence.  Plus, these little verbal sparring matches between them made it seem that they were closer than mere colleagues or co-workers.

“Anyway,” Mouse finally said, turning back to me, “how are things
really
going?”

“Pretty well,” I said.  “A little slow for the most part.”

Mouse chuckled.  “Yeah.  Regular life seems kind of dull after you’ve saved the world.  Just wait until you’ve done it a dozen times, then you’ll really get jaded.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Vixen interjected.  “He’s just grumpy because the reconstruction isn’t taking place as fast as he’d like – even though his lab was the first thing that got fixed.”

“Which begs the question,” I said.  “Why are you here?”

“To talk to you.  About the Academy.”

Most superhero teams had a teen affiliate – part of the Teen Development League.  I was with the Alpha League’s teen group, and each of us was assigned a League member as a mentor.  Mouse was mine, and part of his job was to make sure I was ready for living in-residence at the Academy.

I glanced at my watch.  1:33 p.m. Ordinarily I’m keen to hear almost anything Mouse has to say, but we were really operating on a tight time schedule today.

Mouse saw the look of concern on my face.  “Relax,” he said.  “I know all about your date with Electra.  This won’t take long.  Besides, if you know anything at all about women, you know that she’s going to be late anyway.”

That earned him a glare from Vixen, which he subtly ignored.

“It’s not a problem,” I stated nonchalantly.  “Go ahead.”

“Great.  The main thing is, we got your test scores back.  You qualify for all advanced courses, so congrats.” He slapped me on the back for emphasis.

The week prior, I’d had to take a number of tests to determine where I should be placed academically.  At sixteen, I would have been a junior in a normal high school, but at the Academy, the courses you take aren’t strictly age-based.  A lot of it has to do with current knowledge, IQ, and potential.

I groaned audibly and rolled my eyes.  I liked school and had always done well as a student, but I’d heard that you had to work your butt off just to keep up in the
regular
classes at the Academy.  The workload in the advanced courses was the stuff of urban legends.