Mod Superhero: Initialize: A Scifi Progression Fantasy Series, page 12
War between Shian and Catalina Escalates with Threats of Nukes and Supers.
Gruesome Vampire Attack in Midtown Wardenton. Public Demands Retribution. An anonymous poster linked evidence that members of the city planning committee have ties to the Felwardens and the Cabal of Jesiré, speculating that the wardens and the cabal are in breach of the ancient pact.
Tremors in Deep Sea Trench Believed to be Harmless.
Disgraced Cape, Porcelain, Wanted in Connection with Champion Street Attack.
Emmett’s stomach dropped. He clicked on the link, reading the scant update about the accident—his accident:
Former Cape, Porcelain, also known as Christine Daws, is wanted for questioning in connection to last Tuesday’s attack that left a wake of destruction across Belport’s downtown, injured sixty-three, and killed five. Porcelain was caught on camera, fleeing the scene. The other three supers have not been identified. The Division of Superhuman Affairs asks for anyone with information to come forward. All four supers are approximately Class 2 and 3, and are considered extremely dangerous.
Emmett had never heard of her before—this wasn’t surprising, though. Only the most powerful supers were household names, and very few supers seemed to want ‘celebrity’ status. So a lot of Class 3 and under supers flew under the radar.
Emmett probably knew more low-level supers than most people did, but he had really only categorized supers in his own city of Belport. There were thousands of other supers—probably millions—spread out across the globe.
The last thing that caught his eye was that the article was from two days ago.
Did Venture know? Did Clara? When were they going to tell him?
Emmett immediately began searching for information on Porcelain. The DSA’s website was a good place to start.
At the top of her page, it showed several pictures of Porcelain during her time with the Summit of Heroes. She wore a white mask and bodysuit that covered her entire body, making her look like a bald white mannequin.
Porcelain — Christine Daws. 28 years old. Former Registered Cape with 7 years’ service. Dishonorable Discharge.
Current Designation: Active Villain. Power Designation Class 2.3:
Class 2.0 — Multiple powers with high destructive potential, requiring multiple superhumans to respond.
Class 2.3 — Abilities listed above, including negation powers, requiring special consideration or a coordinated team of responders.
Powers include Self-Duplication. Versatile Energy Manipulation, Limited Reality Manipulation.
Current Location: Unknown.
Emmett scrolled through the rest of the meager information, searching for any other pertinent information. Her last known whereabouts were from two years ago and across the country. Her former nemeses were deceased or retired, and no accomplices were listed.
Then again, the DSA’s website wasn’t exactly the best source of information—
The forums were.
Emmett was about to scroll the forums when the driver announced his bus stop.
Emmett sighed and reluctantly pocketed his phone.
Maybe there was an even better source of information…
Emmett descended the stairs of the lab, shoes echoing on the concrete.
“Dr. Venture is waiting for you in section five,” TINA said.
Between the excitement of heading to the Gray Room and his questions about Porcelain, Emmett felt his heart skip a beat.
Emmett didn’t waste any time changing into his bodysuit and heading to the training hub. Dr. Venture and Clara were talking around the holographic table. They stopped when he came in.
“So,” Venture started, folding his arms across his chest, “you made some new friends last night.”
Emmett should’ve realized that Dr. Venture would bring it up. He rubbed the back of his neck. “About that… I was just going to the bay.”
Venture frowned but didn’t say anything. Clara shrugged as if to say something between sorry and better you than me.
“At least you had your mask on,” Venture finally said. “I expect you to work extra hard today.”
“I… I have a question first.”
Both Venture and Clara turned toward him.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Porcelain?”
Clara turned and looked at her dad as if she didn’t know what Emmett was talking about.
Venture pushed up his glasses. “I wasn’t going to—not yet.”
“Why not?”
“What would you do?” Venture asked plainly.
“Track her down. Question her. Find out why she was there that night and who else was with her.”
Venture nodded. “I should’ve expected that you would want to… We’re keeping a lookout for her. When we find her, Clara will be the one to make contact.”
“Okay. I’ll hang back then.”
“You won’t be going,” Venture replied.
Clara smiled, a small and reluctant gesture, like she’d known exactly what her father was going to say.
Emmett scoffed. “I won’t get in the way.”
Venture’s eyes and voice were firm. “You won’t be going.”
Emmett’s eyes fell to the floor and he clenched his fist in frustration.
Venture continued, “Even if you were at a proficient level of training, it would be too dangerous and too personal—”
“What if I get to that level?” Emmett asked, meeting Venture’s eyes. He didn’t look away.
Venture’s glare softened, then he gestured over his shoulder to the Gray Room. “Give me a reason to consider your request.”
Emmett stood at the edge of the Gray Room as white tiles rose from the floor and created an approximation of Belport.
Two blue robots stood beside him—both identical.
Before he’d left the training hub, a second white platform and second set of VR gear had emerged from a hidden compartment. Both Dr. Venture and Clara were hooked in and controlling their own robot.
TINA’s voice echoed through the room. “Loading combat training, lesson two.”
“Nervous?” Clara asked.
Emmett nodded. He’d been trying not to think about it.
“Watch and listen,” Venture said as both robots stepped forward and faced each other.
“Lesson two is all about basic combat training. You’ll recognize some of it as a mix of introductory boxing, as well as basic martial arts striking and grappling techniques. These are staples for a reason, and at your current power level, they are the techniques that will serve you best. Most new and Class one supers neglect the basics. At lower power levels, technique is an equalizer.”
Clara added, “But don’t get cocky. Technique will only help so much.”
Dr. Venture cleared his throat. “Let’s begin.”
For the next two hours, Venture and Clara alternated between demonstrating and running Emmett through drills:
How to throw a punch and a kick were both relatively simple. Within the first few, he realized the importance of recovering quickly to a guard position—after Clara punched him across the chin with a robotic fist.
In the first few minutes, Emmett realized that his body wasn’t just stronger and faster than before. His coordination was also noticeably better. He’d never been a gifted athlete, but he already felt like he—or rather his body—had a solid grasp on the fundamentals.
When Emmett asked about this, Venture confirmed that Mutagen-A enhanced ‘muscle memory’ and large-scale locomotion. It would not, however, help much with fine motor movements—he wouldn’t learn the guitar any quicker than before.
Funnily enough, for as strong and as fast as Emmett felt, he noticed that his flexibility didn’t seem any better.
Venture said, “Mutagen-A won’t help with that.” The way he said it made Emmett think that there were other Mutagen compounds that did different things, but the thought was quickly pushed aside by Clara’s flurry of punches.
Clara added, “Don’t bother with high kicks. Keep them below the waist or for defending yourself when you’re on the ground.”
Grappling was next:
Venture said, “Grappling has all to do with leverage and your center of gravity.”
Venture demonstrated this by showing various shoves, hip throws, trips, and take-downs on Clara’s robot—then demonstrating the same moves on Emmett so that he could see how they felt.
Only then did Emmett get to try the moves out for himself—
And began to realize that they felt weird—like their weight was changing in the air.
Emmett paused after the third hip throw. “It doesn’t feel right when I pick you up. It’s like the robot gets lighter all of a sudden.”
Ventured replied, “That is the first reason why combat between supers is fundamentally different from normal fighting: Much of the advantage of enhanced strength relies on leverage. Keep your feet planted firmly on the ground, and you maintain your strength. But if someone picks you up off your feet, you lose almost every benefit.
“What’s more, you weigh 183 pounds and 4 ounces. Regardless of your strength, once you’re off your feet you will be thrown around as if you weigh 183 pounds and 4 ounces.”
Emmett thought back to fighting the two masks on the roof of the slums. Emmett had managed to shove Skull Mask so hard he tumbled off the roof—even though the guy easily outweighed him.
Then again, he’d used his mechanical arm to do it.
Emmett looked down at his right hand and squeezed, trying to feel the metal and composite flexing beneath the skin.
Again, the feeling of being powerless came back to him. He should’ve died on Champion street, and even though Skull Mask said he wouldn’t kill Emmett, it sure felt like he was going to. The Code hadn’t felt like much protection, at all.
He’d nearly died twice in a week!
He was sick of feeling powerless. Sick of being at the mercy of other supers.
Emmett made himself a promise: He would learn to fight and defend himself. Learn how to make his body and arm better and stronger. He would do whatever it takes, and he wouldn’t stop until he didn’t feel powerless again.
Chapter 19
Time to Spare
After two hours of combat training, the chest cavity of Dr. Venture’s robot opened, and it pulled out the long gray whip.
Emmett’s eyes widened. He’d been so preoccupied with training that he’d forgotten about his mods.
The robot walked over to Emmett and held out the whip.
“How do I, uh…”
“Hold out your right arm.” Thin, wiry fingers slid out of the robot’s fist as it reached for him.
Emmett kept his arm as still as he could, despite the cold touch of the metal and the tiny pinches that felt like static electricity as it touched his skin.
A moment later, the skin on the inside of his forearm bulged in the shape of a cylinder, and then slid open—the extra skin sliding over the back of his forearm like two panes of glass.
Emmett shivered.
Ever since the accident, his right arm had felt almost exactly the same as his real one—it moved the same as a real arm, felt pressure and pain the same as a real arm. Only a handful of times had he remembered that it was, in fact, mechanical. Even then, he couldn’t feel a difference. It was only when he poked at the compartments and felt the shape beneath the ‘skin’ was different that he really knew.
But now, staring at a cylindrical, flesh-colored gap in his forearm, it was like his mind couldn’t process what was happening. It felt like a hole—like a missing tooth.
“You’ll get used to it,” Dr. Venture said. “...I think.”
Emmett chuckled awkwardly. “So, you don’t have any mechanical limbs with weapon storage in them?”
“No. Now watch carefully, and hold still. This is how you secure a modification in your arm.”
The robot pressed the end of the whip into the gap and toward a bundle of connections toward the elbow. With a quick twist, the base of the whip clicked into place.
Immediately, Emmett felt the whip—not just where it connected to his forearm, but felt the entire length of it as if it was an extension of his arm.
It felt like an extra finger.
“Holy shit,” Emmett muttered.
His hand jerked slightly, and the end of the whip twitched.
Emmett moved each of his fingers, one by one, and watched as the end of the whip twitched slightly each time.
Dr. Venture said, “Try holding the whip and then moving it. The whip is made of similar materials to your arm and so it will be strong enough for any Class one or Class two super you engage with, but holding it will prevent extra stress on the connections.
“In addition, it will take time for your brain and nerves to adjust to any new modification. Holding the whip will help your brain shunt attention from your hand to the whip so it can divert more attention to the modification. One day you’ll be adapted enough that you’ll be able to move it like an extra arm or nimble enough for it to be an extra hand, but holding the whip will help you in the meantime.”
While Dr. Venture talked, Emmett did as he suggested, gripping the ‘handle’ of the whip and trying to move it around again. Immediately, he felt a difference.
It felt like an arm that had woken up from numbness after being laid on the wrong way. Emmett could feel the individual linkages like bones and could curl the whip around into coils and S’s. He curled the end of it so that the whip rose into the air until the tip of it looked him in the eye like a snake.
Emmett smirked, giddier than he’d been in years—than all his time working for Dr. Venture.
“How do I—”
Emmett had been about to ask how to fold the whip and hide it in his forearm, but he didn’t have time to get the question out.
The whip began retracting—each link shrinking back into the one before it like a collapsible pole. Emmett watched as the fifteen foot whip condensed to just under a foot long and then slipped into the gap in his forearm. The covering of skin slid back into place a moment later.
The entire process took just under two seconds.
“Wow,” was all Emmett could manage. He looked his forearm over in disbelief.
It had gone back to that eerie feeling of normalcy—except for the miniscule feeling of extra weight in his forearm, like he was wearing a watch or a wrist brace.
Venture added, “The extending and retracting the whip should get faster and easier too as your body gets used to it.”
Mentally, Emmett commanded the whip to extend, and the process reversed itself—the whip uncoiled link by link until it was lying on the street of the Gray Room again.
“So, uh, can I test it out yet?” Emmett asked, trying not to seem overly eager. Meanwhile, the end of the whip twitched with anticipation.
“You and Clara will test it. Start with movement drills. I’ll be back later.” A square opened up in the tiles and swallowed Venture’s robot.
After Dr. Venture and his robot left the Gray Room, Emmett turned and found Clara’s robot looking at him expectantly.
Emmett’s whip twitched—mirroring his own eagerness. “So what’s it going to be?” he asked. “Combat training? Movement training?”
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
Emmett paused and shrugged. “Alright enough, I guess.”
Clara’s blue robot stared at him for a long moment, and Emmett felt like she was reading into what he said—which was odd because all he saw staring at him was a featureless blue face.
Clara added, “Because you went from looking like you were having a flashback to wearing that same brutal determination you had when you were choking out Zanté on the roof.”
Emmett stared at her in disbelief and confusion. “Oh, that was Skull Masks’s name?”
“Yep.”
“Oh…”
“You didn’t bother to look him up?”
Emmett shrugged again. “I was hoping I wouldn’t run into him again.”
Again, he felt Clara staring at him, and Emmett wished he could see her face instead of the expressionless robot.
Emmett told her as much.
“You couldn’t keep up with me,” she replied.
“You mean your suit…”
“Besides,” she continued, ignoring him, “we’re going to run into them again. Dad thinks he has a lead in the Champion street attack.”
Emmett’s eyes widened. “Go on. I’m listening.”
The robot shook its head. “Dad thinks we have time to spare. First, you need to finish movement training and combat training.”
Emmett groaned. She was right. Venture was right—and Emmett had no desire to get beaten two times in a row by the same supers.
But he wasn’t happy about waiting. The end of the whip twitched, mirroring his internal struggle.
“Fine,” Emmett said through his teeth. “What’s next?”
“Loading movement training, lesson three,” TINA said.
Clara added, “Let’s work on moving around the city using your whip. Honestly, of all the tools Dad scrounged up for you, it will wind up being the most versatile. It’s also going to take that much more practice to get used to.”
Clara’s robot ran across the white-tile street and leapt two stories up to the top of the nearest building. Then she waited expectantly for him.
Emmett retracted the whip and then extended it again, feeling like he was flexing and stretching the limb—like he was limbering up.
He ran toward the closest single story building, and when Emmett was close, he jumped and extended the whip—a motion halfway between throwing a ball and shot-putting it. The whip hurled upward like a spring, stretching to its limit as the end sailed over the top of the building.
It curled around the lip of the building and felt like Emmett was grabbing on with his fingertips.
He stood there, staring up with satisfaction, before wondering what he was supposed to do next.
