Megamatrix Hero Within by Phil Hester, Jon S. Lewis, Shannon Eric Denton, Jake Bell Page A
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Fletcher magically appeared standing on the edge of the mahogany desk, Napalm was more preoccupied with looking at the giant ball and chain being swung at his head than he was Fletcher's nauseous face.
Napalm dealt with the threat of the five hundred pound weight swinging at his head the way he did most problems--by exploding. Flames shot up to the ceiling and the blast knocked Fletcher backward into Napalm's plush office chair, but the ball and chain sailed through the inferno without doing any harm.
Fletcher had to change tactics. He only had a moment before Napalm reformed and could explode again. There was no way to fight him. Ball and chain, punches, kicks, nothing could land and hurt him. Fletcher's only option was to get away. He stood and turned invisible, ready to run out the front door in complete silence.
Instead, pain wracked his body.
Fletcher fell backward into the chair again, clutching his chest. He felt like the device that had burrowed its way into his sternum was rethinking that decision. He panted and clawed at the device, wishing it would make up its mind.
"So, you must be Fletcher," said a nasally voice from the doorway. Fletcher turned to see Technein, his hand reaching out toward the device. "I'd always hoped our first meeting would be under better circumstances."
CHAPTER 12
As the pain surged through him, Fletcher struggled to lift himself out of the chair, but didn't have the energy. He slumped back down and tried to summon his ball and chain, but had no luck. He tried to shrink, he tried to grow, but neither worked. He even tried to flick a paperclip at Technein's eye with Archer's deadly accuracy, but only managed to clumsily flip it onto the carpet.
His powers were gone.
"I suspected as much," Technein bragged. "I told Napalm that no one could have so many powers naturally. Didn't I tell you?"
Napalm's reforming body nodded carefully.
Four of Technein's security agents came around their boss and through the doorway. "I'm neutralizing his power," he assured them. "Pick him up and move him to the couch."
Fletcher couldn't even begin to fight them off. It took everything he had not to fall to the floor in a shuddering, spasming mass. He craned his face toward the sky and let out a scream of agony that died in his parched throat. He swore he heard a heavenly choir sing to him, calling him to come to them, and he wondered if this was what it was like to die.
Each of the four guards grabbed one of his limbs and hoisted him to the leather couch near the door to Napalm's private lavatory. Technein stood over Fletcher and tore his shirt open. He examined the device on Fletcher's chest like a jeweler inspecting a rare gem.
"You can tell by the markings on here that this is an old piece of technology," Technein observed. "Ten, maybe fifteen years old. Where did you find this?"
Fletcher obviously couldn't answer.
"I'm guessing it has a bunch of different powers in it. You wear it around and can do whatever it has in there."
Technein wasn't exactly right, but Fletcher couldn't correct him. The powers weren't in the device in his chest. It was only the interface that allowed him to access them.
Then Fletcher realized, Technein couldn't have stolen his powers. The powers were a part of him, not the device. Interfering with it, could only restrict his use of them, not take them away entirely.
He knew he couldn't control his size like MaxMolecule or turn invisible like Red Wraith, and if he had Korgus or Liberty Torch's strength, he'd have no trouble pushing these security guards off of him. He had trouble concentrating on what was left. He was so thirsty it was making him lightheaded. He couldn't use Archer's accuracy, and even though Ali Babba’s all-seeing vision would be worthless, he tried it anyway and failed. What was left?
Fletcher rolled his head to the side and heard the choir singing for him again, calling for him to join them. Only the song wasn't coming from some magical
Napalm dealt with the threat of the five hundred pound weight swinging at his head the way he did most problems--by exploding. Flames shot up to the ceiling and the blast knocked Fletcher backward into Napalm's plush office chair, but the ball and chain sailed through the inferno without doing any harm.
Fletcher had to change tactics. He only had a moment before Napalm reformed and could explode again. There was no way to fight him. Ball and chain, punches, kicks, nothing could land and hurt him. Fletcher's only option was to get away. He stood and turned invisible, ready to run out the front door in complete silence.
Instead, pain wracked his body.
Fletcher fell backward into the chair again, clutching his chest. He felt like the device that had burrowed its way into his sternum was rethinking that decision. He panted and clawed at the device, wishing it would make up its mind.
"So, you must be Fletcher," said a nasally voice from the doorway. Fletcher turned to see Technein, his hand reaching out toward the device. "I'd always hoped our first meeting would be under better circumstances."
CHAPTER 12
As the pain surged through him, Fletcher struggled to lift himself out of the chair, but didn't have the energy. He slumped back down and tried to summon his ball and chain, but had no luck. He tried to shrink, he tried to grow, but neither worked. He even tried to flick a paperclip at Technein's eye with Archer's deadly accuracy, but only managed to clumsily flip it onto the carpet.
His powers were gone.
"I suspected as much," Technein bragged. "I told Napalm that no one could have so many powers naturally. Didn't I tell you?"
Napalm's reforming body nodded carefully.
Four of Technein's security agents came around their boss and through the doorway. "I'm neutralizing his power," he assured them. "Pick him up and move him to the couch."
Fletcher couldn't even begin to fight them off. It took everything he had not to fall to the floor in a shuddering, spasming mass. He craned his face toward the sky and let out a scream of agony that died in his parched throat. He swore he heard a heavenly choir sing to him, calling him to come to them, and he wondered if this was what it was like to die.
Each of the four guards grabbed one of his limbs and hoisted him to the leather couch near the door to Napalm's private lavatory. Technein stood over Fletcher and tore his shirt open. He examined the device on Fletcher's chest like a jeweler inspecting a rare gem.
"You can tell by the markings on here that this is an old piece of technology," Technein observed. "Ten, maybe fifteen years old. Where did you find this?"
Fletcher obviously couldn't answer.
"I'm guessing it has a bunch of different powers in it. You wear it around and can do whatever it has in there."
Technein wasn't exactly right, but Fletcher couldn't correct him. The powers weren't in the device in his chest. It was only the interface that allowed him to access them.
Then Fletcher realized, Technein couldn't have stolen his powers. The powers were a part of him, not the device. Interfering with it, could only restrict his use of them, not take them away entirely.
He knew he couldn't control his size like MaxMolecule or turn invisible like Red Wraith, and if he had Korgus or Liberty Torch's strength, he'd have no trouble pushing these security guards off of him. He had trouble concentrating on what was left. He was so thirsty it was making him lightheaded. He couldn't use Archer's accuracy, and even though Ali Babba’s all-seeing vision would be worthless, he tried it anyway and failed. What was left?
Fletcher rolled his head to the side and heard the choir singing for him again, calling for him to join them. Only the song wasn't coming from some magical
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