Dark Hunter Page 6

  Now Teratoid had destroyed a theme park in what seemed like a false trail to Hunter. After all, why would an international fugitive take time out to sit on a few rides? The government’s spin doctors were hard at work trying to explain that a wild elephant had rampaged through the theme park. Normally they would use Psych to help cover up such a story, but the Prime was in hiding. Now they only had low-level mind control available.

  Chameleon was having a moment of doubt that felt dark and ominous. He’d always believed in doing the right thing, following the unwritten code of the hero. But now, just when the world was sinking into oblivion because the balance between good and evil had been upset—upset with the smallest of viruses—ninety-nine percent of the Primes had run to the hills. Maybe he should run too?

  The Foundation headquarters had been repositioned somewhere in the Gobi desert, and their leader, Eric Kirby, had been instructing Chameleon, and the few Primes left fighting the futile battle, to stop the Council of Evil’s coordinated attacks. With the few Primes busy trying to protect the world’s population, the fate of the Hero Foundation rested on four rookie superheroes, the only Downloaders who, by chance, had been taking powers from Hero.com when it crashed. They were the only heroes available to prevent Basilisk and his team of evildoers from toppling the Hero Foundation.

  Back at Diablo Island, Chameleon and several Foundation scientists had calculated that Hunter’s ability to store powers and then amplify them to a much more potent level could be used to replace the entire Hero network, and the V-net system too. Couple that with his latent power to create previously unseen powers, and the potential was earth-shattering. Although the Foundation had long ago learned how to recreate the powers that heroes had willingly donated (and villains forcibly donated), they had never been able to “mix and match” to create new ones. The effects during trials had always been lethal.

  Chameleon knew that since he had let Jake slip through his fingers on Diablo Island, Kirby was punishing him by demanding that he get Hunter back.

  The boy had become the ultimate weapon for both the heroes and the villains. Whichever side he was on, it would be the winning one. Hunter’s abilities made him a truly frightening opponent.

  Chameleon left the hangar and descended to the private underground railway station. There he took a small bullet train for some twenty miles to the Foundation hospital.

  The moment he left the train and entered the subterranean command center, he was assaulted by Enforcer staff all demanding his attention. Huge screens on the wall depicted the planet, airspace above, and even sections of the moon. Different colored graphics showed the deployment of Enforcer, Council, or Foundation forces—and Chameleon didn’t need to look to see who was winning. The glow from the screen made the entire command center look as if they were on red alert.

  “One at a time,” said Chameleon, taking his seat behind the controller’s desk. He hated this administrative part of his job; he would much rather be out in the field, fighting. Actually, he would much rather be sitting in bed with a hot chocolate and watching repeats of The Simpsons because his body ached from the constant punishment it had taken recently.

  A nerdy-looking Enforcer technician thrust a tablet PC at him. “Sir, while you’ve been away the kids, uh, I mean, Toby Wilkinson’s team, lost Basilisk—”

  “What?” Chameleon was on his feet again. “I thought we had Enforcer patrols bringing him in?”

  “They were too late. Long story.” He looked at the notes on his computer tablet and ticked them off like a shopping list. “Loss of assets, multiple witnesses, Pete kidnapped, Mexico lead, blah, blah.”

  Chameleon looked at him in astonishment. “What? Don’t ‘blah-blah’ me! Tell me everything.”

  “It’s all in the report. Without you here, Mr. Grimm acted on it right away.”

  Chameleon sat back down. He never felt comfortable when Grimm’s name was mentioned, but for some reason Eric Kirby trusted him. And Eric was the boss. Chameleon thought, for the good of his blood pressure, he’d read the report later.

  Another techie offered a similar tablet PC, but snatched it back when he saw the look on Chameleon’s face.

  “Just read it to me,” said Chameleon, rubbing his eyes.

  “Government demands to know why Teratoid demolished a theme park and injured thirty-eight people. And they have demanded more Enforcer units to guard the capital.”

  “As long as you don’t tell them it was a mistake, make something up. Run some static and say Teratoid escaped or something.”

  “Oh. So it wasn’t a mistake?”

  Chameleon stared at the techie. The man glanced at his colleagues, none of whom offered any support. They were all nervous from working so close to a Super.

  “We examined security cameras of the park and used facial recognition software to—”

  “Just show me,” sighed Chameleon, leaning forward on his desk.

  The techie used his tablet computer to change one of the large display screens to show various security footage of the park prior to Scuffer’s attack. A square icon scanned the faces of the crowd. Sections of face—an eye here, an ear there—rapidly changed on-screen. It was like watching a police photo lineup done as a flip book. Soon Jake Hunter’s face appeared, and the computer flashed the words “POSITIVE MATCH.” Despite concealing his face under the cap, the computer had still managed to take information from the structure of Jake’s face, in the same way a biometric passport photo did.

  Chameleon couldn’t take his eyes from the screen. “My God, he really did show up. Why?”

  “Not sure, sir. There was no reported sighting of Chromosome in the area.”

  “Who’s the girl with him?”

  The techie isolated images of Jake’s companion, and Chameleon felt a knot of worry in his stomach as he recognized her immediately.

  “Lorna!” Chameleon nervously drummed his fingers on the desk. She was a hero—what was she doing with Hunter? Was she aware of the situation she’d placed herself in? “Get me Grimm on the phone. Where is Toby Wilkinson’s team now?”

  The maps on the screen highlighted a blue dot.

  “They’ve just left on an Aurora Stealth Bomber, heading for Mexico. They’re running radio silence,” reported a female technician. “Lorna’s with them and Grimm isn’t responding to his phone.”

  “Okay, don’t bother with Grimm. I’ll handle this. Open up all surveillance circuits and find me Hunter!”

  Chameleon slumped back, more exhausted than ever. There was nothing more he could do right now and he needed to sleep or he’d be of no use to anybody. He didn’t know why Lorna was with Hunter, but it didn’t bode well.

  He closed his eyes; if he knew Hunter, he was sure to surface on the criminal radar very soon.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon when Jake and Lorna had returned home. He had been afraid that she would bring up the afternoon’s events, but luckily she didn’t. Nobody was at her house and Jake retrieved his laptop. There was an awkward moment when they said good-bye and exchanged cell numbers; Lorna told him not to call until later tonight, as a friend had borrowed her phone.

  Jake walked away and felt a tremor of elation. Apart from the attacking mutated ex-friend and destruction of the theme park, it had been a great day.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text message from Mr. Grimm asking to meet. Jake sighed. He couldn’t help but feel that he was being used again, but he desperately needed a lead to Psych. Jake thought over the situation. He always seemed to be at a disadvantage because he was relying on other people. He knew from school-yard warfare that the only way out of such a bitter cycle was to change the rules. He was trading the president for information; how could he switch that around and place himself in a superior position to Chromosome?

  That was something to think about.

  The meeting wasn’t for another couple of hours, so Jake took a risk and visited his family again. They were at home, and Jake didn’t want to
enter the house while they were inside. Last time he’d done that, Enforcers had stormed the place. From across the street, Jake could see small dome-shaped sensors in the front garden, telltale signs that they were under surveillance, but luckily it seemed the Enforcers were stretched too thin to spare the manpower to have an actual agent keep an eye on them.

  Jake satisfied himself by sitting on the wall of the house across the street and trying to look through the window. He could see his parents talking and Jake provided his own soundtrack.

  “I wonder where our son is? You mean Jake? Isn’t he a great boy …” Jake shut up, feeling embarrassed that he’d even put on a silly high-pitched voice to narrate. He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loss, and wished he could just walk across the street, ring the bell, and be greeted by warm hugs and welcoming faces.

  An elderly neighbor, Mrs. Bowen, passed Jake with a bunch of shopping bags. She was a friend of the family but she didn’t cast a single glance at Jake, and he wondered if Psych had wiped the memories of his entire family and their friends? If so, why not the people at school? Lorna still recognized him. And Knuckles and Big Tony certainly did.

  Jake turned away from his old home; being here was not doing him any good. He vowed to himself that he’d only return once he had the means to unlock their minds and they could be a family once more. He took a few steps, then hesitated. Loud music was drifting from Beth’s bedroom. He strained to listen, and could hear his dad’s voice.

  “Bethany, turn down that music!”

  Despite his sadness, Jake couldn’t help but smile. He recognized the music as something Beth would ordinarily hate, but for some reason she was playing it loud. It was Jake’s favorite band, Ironfist.

  Somewhere in Beth’s head were rebellious threads of memory about her brother. And that gave Jake a sudden flush of confidence.

  Mr. Grimm was never ever late. Punctuality was a sign of character. It defined a person’s integrity and reliability. In Mr. Grimm’s opinion it was more important than honesty and loyalty. Loyalty was just a matter of opinion; punctuality was a matter of breeding.

  Jake was twenty-three minutes late, which was an achievement, since he had nothing to do except while away the hours. He’d done that by leaving a few text messages on Lorna’s cell, then stopped because he didn’t want to look too interested.

  Before leaving for his meeting, Jake went to his father’s shed to hide the laptop. He was trembling slightly, a sign he needed to replenish his power. He connected the laptop to the cell phone and accessed Villain.net. The site was pretty much the same. He clicked on the flashing news banner and read through a page depicting the Council of Evil’s progress in what they described as “a war.”

  Jake refreshed his powers with a few random selections. Rejuvenated, he noticed the “LOW BATTERY” icon was flashing in the corner of the screen. Seconds later the laptop suddenly turned itself off. Jake hesitated. The only power sockets were in the house, along with Beth’s power pack to charge it. He decided to leave it for now, but a quick glance at the cell phone revealed that its battery level was also in the red zone. And he didn’t have a charger for that.

  Jake panicked. His only two access points to Villain.net were running flat. Without constant access to powers to feed his addiction, he would die!

  Jake took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. His latest fix would keep him going for several hours. He would have to arrange something else after he met Grimm.

  Not showing any signs of feeling the chill wind that blew across the top floor of the multilevel parking lot, Mr. Grimm repressed every urge to rebuke Jake for his tardiness. Instead he tried to smile, but managed nothing more than a grimace.

  “Mr. Hunter, I’m so glad you turned up.” The unspoken word “finally” hung in the air.

  “You have some info?”

  “I have so much more than that for you. Please, come with me.”

  Mr. Grimm gestured across the empty parking lot. Jake frowned.

  “Where to?”

  “To your new home, if you’ll have it.”

  Jake followed Grimm’s hand, and this time noticed the air next to him was wavering slightly, as though it were liquefied. Jake instantly sensed a trap. Mr. Grimm must have picked up on his thoughts.

  “Please, follow me.”

  Mr. Grimm sidestepped into the portal and vanished. Jake hesitated—then reacted as Mr. Grimm’s head poked back from the portal although the rest of his body was unseen. It was like talking to a severed head.

  “Quickly now.”

  Jake tensed himself, ready for anything, then followed Grimm through the shimmering portal. He stepped out into a large stone-flagged hall, close to a roaring fireplace that was taller than he was.

  “Where are we?”

  “Romania. Follow me.”

  Mr. Grimm opened a door and Jake followed him down a stone corridor that was lit by recessed lights. The walls were large bricks, and their footsteps echoed spookily. It felt as if they were in an old castle that somebody had tried to modernize. Grimm climbed up a large spiraling staircase that went on for some time. Eventually they entered a spacious circular room that was bare except for two massive plasma screens sitting side by side on stands, the images on them fed from several computers. Jake instantly recognized Villain.net on one and a twenty-four-hour news channel on the other.

  Then he noticed a balcony area beyond a set of double glazed doors that swished open as Mr. Grimm approached. They stepped out into the icy cold. Mr. Grimm gestured around him.

  “Your new home.”

  They were standing at the top of a single spire that gave them a view of the castle below. Jake had guessed correctly; it was an old castle built on the edge of a cliff top that dropped into blackness below. The castle itself wasn’t huge, but it was more than big enough for Jake. Around them sat jagged snow-covered mountains, the peaks of many smothered by thick clouds.

  “The Transylvanian Alps; they’re part of the southern Carpathian Mountains,” said Mr. Grimm in his monotone voice that was oddly fitting in this setting. He looked at Jake as though that should mean something, but Jake was drawing a blank. “The legendary home of Dracula?”

  “Oh,” said Jake, feeling more than a little creeped out.

  “The landscape was inspiration for Bram Stoker’s character. And a fitting lair for a supervillain, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t get it. Chromosome is giving me this?”

  Mr. Grimm shook his head and looked out across the vista. “No. I am. I’m not an employee of the Council. I just work for them as a contractor. In fact I work for a great many people, including the Hero Foundation. But the views of my employers never interfere with my work … except in this one instance. I have been following your progress with great interest, Mr. Hunter. You’re stuck in the middle of a war.”

  “Like Switzerland,” said Jake, remembering some of the history lessons about World War Two. That and the dinosaurs were definitely the best parts of history.

  “No. Switzerland was neutral, and not under threat from opposing sides. You are something else.” Jake frowned, but decided not to question him. “I’m unsure what Chromosome’s full plans for you are. My employers only tell me what they think I need to know. I do know she thinks that by controlling the president she can control the largest military might on the planet.”

  “Who would she attack? The Council? The Foundation?”

  “Everybody. You must learn that when you swim on your own, the sharks will eat you.” Mr. Grimm looked back at Jake, his face pale and calculating. “Unless you are swimming with the shark with the biggest bite. Like me.”

  Jake’s head began to spin with animal metaphors. He hated this kind of thing. Basilisk was always secretive and had spoken in riddles, claiming that Jake was just a kid who wouldn’t understand. But now Grimm was speaking as though Jake understood the cryptic references. As much as he loathed admitting it, Basilisk had a point; he was just a kid who was frightened and con
fused. But that was a weakness he knew he couldn’t show.

  “So all this is yours, and you are offering it to me? Why? What’s in it for you?”

  “Balance. I am not interested in exploiting you, Mr. Hunter. Sure, you can use your powers and rule the world, gathering riches from across continents. But then I would inevitably be working for you. No, that’s not what I want. I require that you do … whatever it is you wish to. You desire to get your family back, fine. You want to try and bring down the Foundation or the Council; that is fine too. As long as there is a balance between the two forces, I can do what I do, and reap the rewards.”

  “So you’re just a mercenary?”

  “A mercenary who respects that no one side should be all-powerful. I must look out for myself, after all.”

  That made perfect sense to Jake. It seemed that he and the enigmatic Mr. Grimm held very similar views. Jake wondered if he’d found an ally.

  Mr. Grimm continued. “Right now the Hero Foundation is suffering, which somewhat upsets things. But plans are afoot to stabilize this. I do not wish to live in a world dominated by the Council. That would be most … boring.”

  “How does Chromosome fit into all this?”

  Mr. Grimm shrugged his bony shoulders. “You and she have a deal. I suggest that you honor it as best you can. She does not know about this lair, and you should keep it that way in case she tries to double-cross you. Not that I have any evidence that she will. Still, you need to be prepared.”

  Jake shivered as he started to feel the cold. He was being given a place to call his own, and some advice from a man who was also offering friendship. Or, at the very least, Grimm was somebody who didn’t openly seem to want to use him.

  He looked around the castle. Not so long ago all this had seemed so important. He had dreamed of riches and his own place—preferably on the warm beaches of Australia rather than the freezing peaks of the Carpathian Mountains. But those dreams now seemed immaterial. He realized that he wasn’t chasing new riches—he was simply trying to retrieve what he had taken for granted and lost.