Dark Hunter Page 2

  Jake’s mouth was dry. Here was the man who had taken his family away from him and forcefully interrogated him, and still he had the nerve to call himself a hero. Chameleon stopped, keeping a healthy thirty-foot gap between them.

  “You amaze me, how you got this far. Where did you get your powers?”

  Jake flicked a glance at the Christmas tree. “From Santa.” It was meant as a joke, but at that moment he realized that the holiday was only four weeks away. He felt a sudden pang at the thought of Christmas without his family.

  “Hunter, give up. There is nothing beyond those walls for you. Nothing.” Chameleon gestured around him. “This is all you have left. Beyond these walls there are few people who even remember you exist. Don’t fight us.”

  Jake suddenly knew what to do. As with all his previous experience with superpowers, the knowledge of exactly how to use them had come to him from out of nowhere. He thought it was some form of telepathy. After all, Basilisk had droned on about his DNA and genes being a tangled part of Villain.net—perhaps the Web site was talking to him? All Jake knew was that he had to relax and close his eyes.

  Chameleon’s tongue extended farther than was humanly possible as he nervously licked his lips. Jake was standing stock-still. His head was slumped, as if he’d just fallen asleep.

  Chameleon took a step forward. “Hunter?”

  When Jake’s eyes flicked open they were bright green flares. He held his arms over his head and his whole body began to vibrate so fast he became a blur. The Enforcers took a wary step back, but kept their gazes fixed on Jake as a green aura surrounded him.

  Chameleon suddenly realized what was happening and darted for cover moments before a radioactive green shock wave rippled from Jake’s body. It was as if a nuclear bomb had detonated. The snow vaporized and every person in the courtyard was yanked from their feet and thrown against the wall. Unconscious bodies piled on top of one another. Some Enforcers were still conscious and had caught fire—they were running in circles, howling, before they rolled themselves on the ground to douse the flames. Enforcers on the walls were blown backward, many falling to the ground below with a shriek. Reinforced windows on the buildings around him melted as the pulse reached them.

  Jake turned and held both hands out toward the steel gates. The crackling green energy combined into a single mighty beam that vaporized the gates and punched a clean circular hole through the wall.

  Jake ran toward it as the green emanations disappeared.

  “Hunter!”

  Jake stopped at the hole in the wall and turned to see that Chameleon, still in his reptilian shape, had extracted himself from the mass of howling Enforcers and had raised his hands to shoot a fireball. But Jake reacted first and shot out a stream of radioactive energy from his fingertips. Chameleon agilely jumped aside, but stray streamers whipped against his face, leaving an angry red welt from his right eye to the left corner of his mouth.

  Jake ran through the hole and out along the pier that stretched into the sea. The far shore comprised icy cliffs, and a huge iceberg floated past the island. But free of Diablo Island’s security systems, Jake was able to fly straight up and was soon lost in the falling snow.

  The Hunt Begins

  Beth Hunter’s long blond hair was wet despite the protection offered by her umbrella. She guided her reluctant parents into a music store and began her usual petulant demands for various CDs.

  From across the bank of CDs, Jake watched his sister rifle through the new releases, and he grinned despite himself. Ordinarily he would have had to endure her sulking and tantrums, but right now he missed them. His mom and dad followed, trying to limit her choice of albums to two, but failing. Jake felt sick when he saw them, all three smiling contentedly—and completely oblivious to their son, who was just a few feet away.

  Basilisk had explained to him that their minds had been wiped by a powerful technique, capable of blocking even the sight of Jake. Chameleon had often taunted him by stating that the process was irreversible—all the more reason for Jake to want to make the scaly superhero suffer.

  His mother looked straight at him, but her brain refused to see him, so instead she just smiled in an unfocused manner, and then picked up the CD that happened to be in her line of sight.

  “What about this one, Beth? It’s a three-for-two offer?”

  “Ugh! I wouldn’t be caught dead listening to them!” exclaimed Little Miss Prim.

  Jake laughed loudly, getting a few looks from other customers. He took a deep breath and held back the urge to grab his family and shake them all until they could see him. He reminded himself that he was not invisible to the rest of the world—just his family. Their minds had been rewired. It was well beyond mere hypnosis; it was more akin to brain surgery.

  A massive security guard glared at Jake. He knew he could deal with the guard without breaking a sweat, and could hardly blame the guard for singling him out; he hadn’t changed his clothes in days, was soaked from the persistent rain outside, and looked pale, almost ill. If Beth could see him, she would no doubt accuse him of being a drug addict.

  Jake sighed and left the store before the guard decided to hassle him. Outside he sat on a wet bench and stared at the shop door, waiting for his family to step out. The street was full of Christmas decorations and lights, and seasonal music played from a shop close by. It did little to lighten Jake’s mood.

  After his initial flight from Diablo Island, Jake had found himself utterly lost. He had flown as fast as possible through the snowstorm in a zigzag path to throw off any would-be pursuers.

  When he finally spotted the lights of a town, he landed and discovered that nobody was following him. Jake’s geography was not great, but even he realized he must be somewhere near the North or South Pole. Further exploration of the snowbound town revealed it to be called Nuuk. What surprised him was that this small town was in fact the capital city of the inappropriately named Greenland.

  A quick check in an atlas he found in the local library pinpointed his location. With nowhere else to go, he decided to head home, but not before stealing a thick, warm leather jacket from a man in a busy café.

  A deed that got him noticed.

  The man kicked back his chair and grabbed Jake’s arm, furiously yelling at him in Kalaallisut. Jake tried to pull away, but the man’s grip was like a vise. He continued shouting, this time trying Danish.

  By now everybody in the café was staring at them, and a mustached policeman was strutting over. Jake wasn’t in the mood. He grabbed the man’s fingers and squeezed—bones crunched. The man let out a wail as he dropped to his knees and swung his other fist at Jake. Jake jerked his head aside, missing the broad hand. With a swift motion he spun around and hurled the crying man over his shoulder—many feet across the room—where he smashed into a display case of pastries. The crowd looked at the wiry boy in astonishment.

  “Yeah!” bellowed Jake. He was enjoying the thrill of the one-sided fight; the old bully in him had been dormant for too long. “That’s right! The Hunter is back!”

  The policeman stepped toward him, wielding a baton. He obviously understood what Jake had said because he spoke in heavily accented English.

  “Don’t move. I am arresting you.”

  “No you’re not.”

  Jake slid the leather jacket on, welcoming the warmth. Then he raised a casual hand—and an energy sphere erupted. The cop was hurled straight through several tables, scattering customers, before smashing through the window and collapsing in the snow with a groan.

  People scattered for cover as the blond-haired boy strutted from the café. It had been a complete misuse of his powers, and it felt awesome.

  He continued his journey, stopping several times during the flight, each time wishing his benefactor had given him teleportation powers. It made traveling much more comfortable but was one of those quirky powers he just couldn’t seem to absorb into his system to use on a more permanent basis.

  During one stop he was shi
vering violently, despite the padded jacket. He used his radioactive power to superheat rocks to get warm, and another time he stopped to randomly top off his powers from the cell phone, which added a rush to his system like drinking too much coffee. He knew from past experience that powers from the cell phone should be much weaker than those pulled directly from the Internet. But now he found them just as potent and chalked it up to the fact that he was now entangled with Villain.net—and that made him all the more powerful.

  It was on this last rest that Jake received another text message from his benefactor, warning him not to go home. It suggested that he meet his guardian face-to-face. Jake ignored it; he’d had enough of being told what to do. From now on he was in control of his life.

  He flew on, his thoughts turbulent. How could he get his family’s memories back? Chameleon had mentioned it was a rare power that had been used to take them away. Memory loss could be achieved through a simple hypnotic power, but his parents had had their entire brains rewired. The ability to do it was a rare power, which meant that it was not available online. Could he use the hyperenergy chemical factory his body had become to create it? But where would he start? Chameleon had told him that he could create powers, but he had neglected to explain the rather more important how. As usual, thinking about the hero derailed his thoughts to those of hatred: how could he exact revenge on Chameleon and Basilisk for ruining his life? And how could he use these superpowers to get what he wanted? There was no good or evil in Jake’s book—there was only him.

  The Hunter.

  Jake liked the nickname that the hero fraternity had branded him with, and he promised himself that he’d live up to it.

  He snapped back to the present and looked up as his family stepped from the music store, a bag swinging from Beth’s arm. Apparently she had got her own way, as usual. Jake’s smile faltered when he noticed a figure trailing discreetly behind his family: Chameleon.

  Jake was on his feet in an instant. Chameleon noticed the sudden movement and stopped dead, eyes narrowing. Jake swore at himself: he should have followed the texted advice; home was the first place anybody would look for him. Jake bolted toward a set of doors that led into a mall. His family might not be able to see him, but they could still be injured in a fight.

  The mall was packed and Jake easily blended with the crowd. Festive music played, and colorful decorations clung to every available surface. A quick glance behind revealed that Chameleon was following. Surely he wouldn’t try to apprehend Jake in public, would he? Jake figured that superpowers were supposed to be a secret, because he certainly hadn’t thought they were real until that fateful day in the woodwork classroom. And if everybody knew about them, then the world would be a much more chaotic place as everybody scrambled to do whatever they wanted to. But that wasn’t Jake’s problem. He didn’t care if the world knew. As long as he had an edge, then he could manipulate other people and be in control—that’s what mattered.

  Jake stopped in a central plaza that was a huge dining area, dominated by a Christmas tree. Shopping avenues branched out following the compass points. Jake took a deep breath. If this was the place he would face Chameleon, then he was ready. He was wanted by the world’s governments for buying a nuclear warhead, stealing an experimental drilling probe, kidnapping, and many more infractions of the law—trashing a mall barely scraped in at the bottom of the list.

  Chameleon searched the crowd, hoping Jake’s spiky blond hair would give him away. He grabbed one figure roughly by the arm, but it was a girl, who yelled at him and shook him off. Chameleon absently rubbed the scar on his face, the injury Jake had inflicted still throbbed painfully. He cupped a small headset curled over his ear and spoke in a low voice.

  “I’ve found him. The idiot came home to roost. How long before Enforcer patrols get here? Or any other backup, for that matter? I think the boy’s grown stronger.”

  A hesitant voice replied through the tiny earpiece. “Ah, sir, we have a problem here. In the early hours there was an infiltration in the Foundation’s servers.”

  Chameleon frowned. He hated technobabble and was sure people used it to give the illusion of intelligence. “Which means what, exactly?”

  “Somebody has hacked into Hero.com and inserted a virus. The whole system’s crashed!”

  Chameleon gaped like a fish. “The entire system?”

  “Yes, sir. We’re retrieving records right now to see if anyone was online at the time, and if they were, they would have had a forced data flush—”

  “Speak English!”

  “They would have received a power overdose.”

  “Is that dangerous?”

  “We’re not sure. With Hero.com off-line it means there are no heroes available. Just Primes. The Foundation has already begun to move into hiding.”

  Chameleon’s heart sank. Primes, people born with natural superpowers, were on the decrease. And those blessed with such powers tended to err toward villainous activities in search of an easy life and quick profit. Most of the older Primes felt they were an endangered species and when threatened they would immediately go into hiding. Chameleon was one of the few Primes left who believed they should face trouble head-on.

  The voice continued. “All Enforcer units have been assembled to ensure there are no further breakouts at Diablo and have been scattered to guard the Foundation’s other key sites. If the Council of Evil gets wind of this …”

  He didn’t need to finish his sentence, Chameleon knew well enough that the Council of Evil would maximize their campaign for world domination if they knew there were no heroes to fight back. There would be chaos on the streets, with only governments and overstretched Enforcer squadrons to try to conceal the facts. If the public ever found out that superpowers not only existed but could be given to anybody, then there would be a civil war as people demanded their right to power.

  “This can’t be happening,” murmured Chameleon.

  “But it is,” snarled Jake, close to Chameleon’s ear. The hero froze as he felt something push into the small of his back.

  “Is that a gun?” Chameleon asked incredulously.

  “A gun? Why would I need to use one of those? My finger is more lethal than a gun.”

  “You’re not going to do anything here, are you? In front of all these witnesses?”

  “What have I got to lose?”

  That reply sent a chill down Chameleon’s spine.

  “I want a straight answer from you: which so-called hero blanked my family’s minds?”

  Chameleon hesitated. He knew what he said now would affect whether he lived or died at the Hunter’s hands.

  “A Prime called Psych.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.” It was a truthful enough answer, especially if Primes were going into hiding—and Chameleon knew Psych was not courageous. But the moment he said it, Chameleon knew it was the wrong answer.

  “Then it looks like you’ve outlived your usefulness,” growled Jake.

  Chameleon had only one option left. He rocketed up the side of the Christmas tree before Jake unleashed a bolt of radioactive fire. The streamers hit Chameleon in the back as he was transforming into his more agile lizard form. He was hurled sideways into the tree, smashing through ornaments as the branches around him caught fire. He was dazed, but had enough sense to cling onto the tree to give himself a moment to recover.

  People around Jake watched with open mouths. At first they thought it was some kind of show put on by the mall staff—until they noticed the scaly lizard in the tree. Then panic rippled out as shoppers scrambled away in a tide of screams.

  “There’s an animal loose!”

  Jake struck again, the green radioactive tendrils igniting more branches. Fires spread quickly as the artificial snow ignited, sending thick plumes of black smoke to the roof and triggering smoke alarms that echoed around the complex. The waves of fleeing shoppers screamed even louder as a sprinkler system activated, creating an interior monsoon. />
  Jake saw that a little kid had stopped next to him, his mouth open in wonder.

  “That’s so cool!” squeaked the kid. “How can I do that?”

  Jake snarled at the kid. “Get lost before you get hurt.”

  The boy’s mother suddenly ran across, her face a mask of fear. She plucked her son to safety, running for her life. Jake could just see the little boy’s grinning face over his mother’s shoulder.

  Chameleon felt the tree wobble underneath him as overstressed securing wires snapped loose. Then the entire tree swayed like a pendulum. One of Jake’s blasts just missed the tree as it swung one way—then pitched the opposite way with such force that Chameleon was flung from the branches. He collided with a life-size Santa sleigh hanging from the ceiling, and the fiberglass decoration shattered and fell into the now vacant tables below—with Chameleon gripping one piece like a life preserver.

  Water from the sprinkler system stung Jake’s eyes, and he had to use his sleeve to clear them. When he looked up he could see no sign of Chameleon in the wreckage of the dining area. Jake took a step forward when movement caught his eye. He darted around and unleashed another blast—straight at a mall security guard.

  In a fraction of a second Jake saw the nervous man’s face. He was retirement age and had obviously been coerced into stopping the rampage. Jake managed to pull his aim aside—splintering several stalls in the corridor—but the blast glanced off the man’s chest, knocking him down.

  “Get out of here!” roared Jake.

  The security guard didn’t hesitate. On all fours he turned to escape. Jake was distracted by the guard and didn’t notice the hero’s attack until a fireball struck him in the side. His energy shield absorbed most of the impact, but it was still enough to smash him through a clothing store window. Again, the shield protected him from being minced by jagged shards of plate glass. Jake fell into a pile of well-dressed mannequins and looked up to see a bizarre sight.

  The lizard hero was walking upright, his taloned feet clicking on the floor tiles as he approached. His head bobbed with each step and he seemed oblivious to a Santa’s hat that had fallen on his head. Jake saw an intense light erupt from the lizard’s hands—and a second later a fireball decapitated a mannequin next to him, and set a rack of clothes on fire. When Jake looked again, Chameleon was standing over him.