“What did you do?!” he screeched, his face contorting in pain.
I simply smiled, but didn’t say anything. What was happening to him was the last thing Gray had told me about with respect to Jack – a final failsafe in case there was ever a need to shut him down permanently. Basically, Jack’s creators had inserted an artificial organ in him. However, rather than serve a beneficial purpose, like one’s heart or lungs, the purpose of this one was malignant. It was full of vile, venomous toxins.
“It won’t kill him,” Gray had said, “but when the toxins are released, it’ll shut down his bodily systems and place him in a coma.”
It didn’t seem as good as having Jack dead, but it was a reasonable compromise, and so I had acquiesced. Getting the organ to release the toxins, however, required a specific catalyst – namely, a specially-developed bio-agent.
“The catalyst can be administered orally, intravenously, or directly on the skin,” Gray had informed me.
“Well, if you guys have had this all the while, why haven’t you taken him down?” I’d asked.
“Can you see Jack letting someone come up and inject him with a needle?” Gray had retorted. “Or pour some unknown liquid down his throat? Plus, the catalyst only remains viable for three seconds after exposure to air, so there’s only a small window for getting the job done. All of that combined with the fact that he’s clairvoyant just made it too risky for any of my people.”
And so the job had fallen to me, and my personal window of opportunity had come while I was hitting Jack with the bat. At super speed, it had taken practically no time at all to pull out a little vial of liquid that Gray had provided – the catalyst – and squirt it on the back of his hand. The blows from the bat were coming at such a rapid pace at that juncture that Jack didn’t even notice. (It wasn’t until he flung the bat away that he seemed to realize that there was a foreign substance on him.) Moreover, the initial swing with the bat – the one he’d allowed to connect – had been the seminal event on this occasion, so the subsequent threat with the toxins was something he hadn’t foreseen.
Watching Jack now, his face a grimace, I started to wonder if I had overreacted. Despite what he’d done to Gramps, did I have the right to play judge, jury, and executioner – essentially robbing him of any type of life going forward? I shook my head to clear my thoughts; regardless of whether I’d had the right to do what I did, it was too late now. The damage was done. Or so I thought.
As I watched, Jack unexpectedly stood up straight. He had his right hand on his chest and was howling in pain. And then I did a double-take as I saw what was really happening. His right hand wasn’t on his chest; it was in his chest. In an incredible display of iron will, he had dug his own hand into his body, through flesh and bone – and I had an inkling as to why. A moment later, I was proved right when he withdrew his hand, holding in his grip what look like a pulsing black heart. However, instead of blood, it oozed out a noxious green-black fluid.
Breathing heavily, Jack flung the item down, where it struck the floor and splattered the dark liquid in a wide arc.
“As…I…was saying…,” Jack muttered, plainly winded by his ordeal, “you…gotta…get past…this.”
“You’re dangerous, Jack,” I countered. “There’s no getting past that.”
He gulped, and I noticed that his color was coming back. “I’m still…gonna consider…all of this…part of…your free shot.” He then gave me a stern look before continuing. “But if you come at me again…it’s game on.”
And then he teleported.
Chapter 82
“So you failed,” Mouse said.
“That’s subject to interpretation,” I countered.
“What is there to interpret? You went after Jack, and you didn’t get him. That’s a fail.”
I rolled my eyes, but didn’t say anything. We were in Mouse’s lab, where I had teleported immediately after my most recent interaction with Jack. I had just finished relaying everything to him, and was now getting the benefit of his frank criticism.
“Anyway,” Mouse went on, “I can’t say I’m sad about the outcome. I didn’t like the idea of you killing anybody.”
“For the last time,” I uttered in exasperation, “the final version of the plan did not include Jack’s death.”
“Well, being forcefully put into a coma isn’t considered one of life’s great joys.”
“He almost killed Gramps,” I said somberly.
Mouse placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “I know, and I agree that something has to be done about him, but I don’t want you going off half-cocked or trying to carry out half-baked schemes.”
“Well, we may not have time for full-baked ones,” I countered. “The powers he has now, including the Bolt Blast and super strength, coupled with a callous disregard for life, make him infinitely more dangerous than we ever imagined.”
“Then maybe the plan needs to be to take those powers from him.”
“You mean like with a nullifier?” I asked.
“That’s one way,” Mouse replied.
I shook my head. “Forget it. He’s clairvoyant, remember? You’ll never get him within a mile of a nullifier.”
“But you said he can only see the initial threat in any given situation.”
I pondered on this for a second. “So what are you saying – attack him in some other way first and make the nullifier the secondary threat?”
“Exactly,” Mouse said with a smile. “The only question is, what should the initial threat be?”
“From what I understand, it can be anything. A shotgun, a grenade, a rocket launcher…”
Mouse laughed. “How about we focus on something a little less likely to do damage to life or property?”
“Like what?”
Mouse shrugged. “I don’t know. Jack’s based on you. Aside from a nullifier, what would you consider a threat?”
“You mean other than death or being put
