âVillain.net is not responsible for injury, damage, or death to either the End User (yourself) or others (victims) due to utilizing online powers. Any criminal use will be approved and endorsed on condition that Villain.net receives a ten percent commission from all monetary gains.â
Jake went back on the Web site in the hope that he could still download the powers and experiment with them on his own. A message in the center of the screen read âSERVICE RUNNINGâ and prevented him from clicking any of the options. Jake was disappointed. How long would he have to wait to experience that power again?
He shut down the computer and crossed to his window. Outside it was a gloriously chilly day. He glanced at the mirror on his wall, which was almost concealed by stickers and postcards heâd amassed, and ran a hand across his face. He did seem a little paler than usual.
Jake decided he should get something to eat and thenmaybe find his gang around town. At least that would give him something to do rather than just sit and wait.
The week slowly crawled by without any word from Basilisk. Jake began to obsessively check his e-mail. His elation at finding a new message was shattered when it turned out to be from Big Tony, with a short abusive paragraph, which Big Tony had no doubt found hilarious when he wrote it.
One day, out of curiosity, Jake typed âBasiliskâ into a search engine and chose one of the first of the two and a half million hits, which was a link to Wikipedia. The entry explained that the basilisk was a mythical creature whose gaze could kill. Jake wondered if Basilisk had named himself or if it was a nickname given by others.
Jake longed to tell his friends about his experience, but knew they would accuse him of lying, and no doubt it would all end in a fight. Another side of Jake whispered selfish thoughts: this was a gift for
him
, not them.
His ambivalence toward the gang must have started showing. Scuffer pulled Jake aside to have a whispered conversation as they walked back from yet another knuckleheaded expedition to a street corner.
âYou feelinâ all right?â Scuffer asked, his eyes constantly twitching as though he couldnât focus on one thing.
âYeah, why?â
âWell, I know this sounds a bit ⦠weird ⦠you know, but youâre lookinâ white like a ghost. Not turninâ into a Goth, are ya?â
âJust not sleeping enough,â Jake replied casually. But in fact he had noticed that. His face was normally pink and healthy, but dark bags had slowly appeared under his eyes even though he had slept longer than usual.
âAnd you donât seem to be havinâ fun no more.â
Jake glanced at him, and concealed a smile. Could it be that this band of roughneck thugs was actually worried that their faithful leader was losing interest in them?
âYou know how it is. Iâve just been thinking about things. Thatâs all.â
âLike what?â
âJust stuff,â Jake replied, deliberately ambiguous. From the corner of his eyes he saw Scuffer glance at him, but he didnât say anything else.
By Thursday, Jake had decided not to meet his friends at their regular rendezvous and sent them a text message to cancel. He was sure they would react aggressively and he turned off his phone so he couldnât receive the barrage of replies from the three of them. Besides, he had something else to think about. After checking his e-mail for what must have been the tenth time that morning,he had received one simple message from Villain.net. Just two words: âSERVICES REQUIRED.â
Jake waited in his room for further instructions. Outside, the fine day had become stormy. Torrential rain pelted the windows and lightning forked overhead. Jake watched the light show from his window. He loved thunderstorms, in direct contrast to his sister, who was always frightened by them and preferred to hide in her closet
Jake went back on the Web site in the hope that he could still download the powers and experiment with them on his own. A message in the center of the screen read âSERVICE RUNNINGâ and prevented him from clicking any of the options. Jake was disappointed. How long would he have to wait to experience that power again?
He shut down the computer and crossed to his window. Outside it was a gloriously chilly day. He glanced at the mirror on his wall, which was almost concealed by stickers and postcards heâd amassed, and ran a hand across his face. He did seem a little paler than usual.
Jake decided he should get something to eat and thenmaybe find his gang around town. At least that would give him something to do rather than just sit and wait.
The week slowly crawled by without any word from Basilisk. Jake began to obsessively check his e-mail. His elation at finding a new message was shattered when it turned out to be from Big Tony, with a short abusive paragraph, which Big Tony had no doubt found hilarious when he wrote it.
One day, out of curiosity, Jake typed âBasiliskâ into a search engine and chose one of the first of the two and a half million hits, which was a link to Wikipedia. The entry explained that the basilisk was a mythical creature whose gaze could kill. Jake wondered if Basilisk had named himself or if it was a nickname given by others.
Jake longed to tell his friends about his experience, but knew they would accuse him of lying, and no doubt it would all end in a fight. Another side of Jake whispered selfish thoughts: this was a gift for
him
, not them.
His ambivalence toward the gang must have started showing. Scuffer pulled Jake aside to have a whispered conversation as they walked back from yet another knuckleheaded expedition to a street corner.
âYou feelinâ all right?â Scuffer asked, his eyes constantly twitching as though he couldnât focus on one thing.
âYeah, why?â
âWell, I know this sounds a bit ⦠weird ⦠you know, but youâre lookinâ white like a ghost. Not turninâ into a Goth, are ya?â
âJust not sleeping enough,â Jake replied casually. But in fact he had noticed that. His face was normally pink and healthy, but dark bags had slowly appeared under his eyes even though he had slept longer than usual.
âAnd you donât seem to be havinâ fun no more.â
Jake glanced at him, and concealed a smile. Could it be that this band of roughneck thugs was actually worried that their faithful leader was losing interest in them?
âYou know how it is. Iâve just been thinking about things. Thatâs all.â
âLike what?â
âJust stuff,â Jake replied, deliberately ambiguous. From the corner of his eyes he saw Scuffer glance at him, but he didnât say anything else.
By Thursday, Jake had decided not to meet his friends at their regular rendezvous and sent them a text message to cancel. He was sure they would react aggressively and he turned off his phone so he couldnât receive the barrage of replies from the three of them. Besides, he had something else to think about. After checking his e-mail for what must have been the tenth time that morning,he had received one simple message from Villain.net. Just two words: âSERVICES REQUIRED.â
Jake waited in his room for further instructions. Outside, the fine day had become stormy. Torrential rain pelted the windows and lightning forked overhead. Jake watched the light show from his window. He loved thunderstorms, in direct contrast to his sister, who was always frightened by them and preferred to hide in her closet
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