Read Online Superhero Universe: Tesseracts Nineteen by David Perlmutter, Brent Nichols, Claude Lalumiere, Mark Shainblum, Chadwick Ginther, Michael Matheson, Mary Pletsch, Jennifer Rahn, Corey Redekop, Bevan Thomas - Free Book Online Page B

dreams. Those hurt; I wish I knew who I was cavorting with, or even whether they were dreams or memories. Whatever drugs they’re giving me make it impossible to distinguish the two. I don’t know who I am, don’t even know my name. I have a strong sense of a life before this, but it’s there by inference, like the empty socket left behind after a tooth has been pulled. I have a sense of gratitude to those who feed me through tubes and who keep me here, safe and knowing that someday I’ll be useful again. I remember newsreel images of starving Biafrans, napalm strikes on jungle, other horrors. Here, they promise me, I’m useful and a guardian of everything we hold dear against The Forces of Evil. (Yeah, I hear the capital letters.)
    * * *
    Then there are the awakenings: my eyes open, my body still damp, and I slowly focus on the circle of flickering fluorescent light, and the voice of my handler, no longer filtered through water.
    There follow what could be called “battles.” Not pitched fights with dozens of men on each side firing guns at each other, but epic knockdowns between various titans. I hear bits and snatches from the Special Forces troops who sit opposite me in the chopper, casting scared glances my way when they think I’m not looking. Because of my impenetrable hide, they wake me to fight the energy villains: those who’ve mastered electricity, electromagnetism, sunlight, plasma, dark energy, nuclear power— even photosynthesis. Some are geniuses, some not so much (even by my standards), but it always goes down the same way. They drop me from the chopper, we size each other up, and then we set to whaling on each other until one of us can’t take anymore. Usually the perp; it takes a lot less energy for me to stand there and grin and take a beating than it takes them to exert every last scrap energy, hoping they’ll blow me away or blast me into tiny bits.
    Nobody’s blasted me into tiny bits, but I hurt for days afterwards. Maybe it could happen, though. I don’t take anything for granted, least of all survival.
    Sometimes they give me the killer robots, giant critters, and other things best handled by a good pummelling. I hear hints they have others who specialize in other types of perps. I’ve seen the wombs they keep us in, but never the residents. Guess they figure it wouldn’t be a great idea to let us compare notes. Sometimes I have to fight two or more perps simultaneously. Three or four is worst, particularly when one of them’s like me and can take a pounding, while their buds nip at my heels, trying to bring me down so the big guy can step on my throat.
    When the smiting’s done, I either hand them the cuffs and convince them to do the smart thing, or beat on them again until they stop moving, then snap on the cuffs myself. I don’t think I’ve ever killed anyone, but I undoubtedly came close a couple or three times, and my handlers are always quick to reassure me that a loss here and there would be acceptable. We’re the good guys, they remind me, and if the bad guys want to share in our rights, they shouldn’t be bad guys.
    * * *
    My handlers aren’t stupid— or at least they’ve learned from past stupidities. Since the CN Tower fell, they know enough to drive the perps outside urban areas to minimize the collateral damage. Today, they drop me out of the copter onto a stretch of three-lane highway, just uphill of a soaring cloverleaf, and I see her, standing there, fists clenched, lycra straining against an unlikely bosom. She’s as scared as I am. She probably knows as much about me as I know about her— basically, nothing; they didn’t even give me a sitrep this time, or hint about why I’m supposed to be fighting her.
    She gathers balls of energy around her fists and casts them at me, screaming. When they hit, they hurt , like the worst sunburn ever. But me and pain are old friends, and my hide keeps the heat from penetrating. My ugly goes skin deep, but it does have