The Supes

by Matthew Pritt

Genres: Superheroes; Sci-fi Action & Adventure

Synopsis

“Engaging debut novel with a story that will keep you guessing to the super-satisfying end.” —Michael Darling, bestselling author of Got Luck

Slip Stephenson has the lamest super power of all time. His father, a world renowned Super, can turn himself invisible, but Slip has never managed to do anything more than turn himself an underwhelming shade of black. 

According to the rules of the School for Underage Power Enhancement and Refinement (SUPER), Slip has to pass his final test by the end of this year or he must give up his superpowered dreams and live as a regular civilian. He spends his senior year studying with five other nearly useless would-be Supers. Together, they must work as a team and overcome their watered-down powers if they want to make it in the world of superheroes.

As this ragtag group comes together, they notice that strange things are happening in the Super world. A mysterious villain has set up base next to Slip’s school, and famous and powerful Supers are turning evil. To protect the ones they love, Slip and his team must take matters into their own hands. 

Can Slip and his newfound friends unravel the mystery? Will they be able to take on fully-powered supervillains? And will they be able to save the world?

Release date: April 11, 2017

Publisher: Future House Publishing

Print pages: 384

Sample

Slip Stephenson crouched against a guardrail at the end of a bridge, waiting for his orders. He couldn’t wait to get started, but Drone was still developing the plan.

The mission looked fairly straightforward. Two hundred yards ahead of Slip, dangling from one of the support beams, were two cocoons. At the bottom of each cocoon was a human head, one a man’s and the other a woman’s. The woman’s long brown hair trailed below her. Several giant bugs were crawling and flying around the cocoons. Slip did a quick inventory in his head—at least eight enormous spiders and maybe six dragonflies, although they were darting about so quickly that the exact number was hard to tell. Slip thought he saw millipedes and scorpions as well, but there were too many cars strewn about the road, obscuring his view. It wasn’t his responsibility to know the specifics; after all, Eagle was the Eyes, not Slip. But still, he was about to be in the middle of all of it. He didn’t want to rush in unprepared.

He leaned over the edge to see what was happening below, but the sun was reflecting too brightly off the surface of the muddy water. He tried to shake the spots from his eyes.

“Looks like it’s a rescue mission,” said Drone—the Brains. His voice was overconfident, nasal.

If Slip’s guess was right, Drone was somewhere downriver, far away from any of the actual danger. Slip adjusted his headset so he could hear better.

“I’d wager it’s a creature-based villain,” Drone continued. “Eagle, what do you see?”

High above the bridge, Eagle glided in a wide circle, his large wings extended. “There are a lot of nasty-looking bugs, but I don’t have position on who’s controlling them.” His voice was slightly obscured by the sound of rushing wind. “Looks like traffic is a little lighter on the left side. Slip, you’ll want to stick to that side and be sure to watch your step.”

Drone cleared his throat. “I’m the one making the plans, Eagle. We don’t know what Slip will be doing yet.”

“I just figured, since he’s the Sneak, he’d be the one—”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve decided what the plan is,” Drone interrupted. “You keep looking for the villain. I’m sure he’ll be near the hostages. Squid, are you finally in position?”

Squid’s voice was strained and uncertain as she replied. “Yes, I’m directly under the bridge now, but there are two spiders on the underside. I’m staying in the water as long as I can.”

“Fine. Eagle, can any of the bugs fit under the cars?” Drone asked.

“Maybe the millipedes, but everything else would have to go around.”

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Drone began.

“The water,” Slip interrupted. “None of the bugs can swim, so we should get in and out through the water. Squid, you can carry me up to the cocoons, and—”

“You’re not the Brains,” Drone snapped. “This is way out of your league. Have you seen those cocoons? You can’t just swim away with one of those under your arms. Squid can get one, but the other has to leave through the air.”

“But if we get them into the water safely, we can go slow. The bugs can’t get us there.” Slip was sure his idea was a good one, and he wondered if Drone was just opposed to it because he didn’t come up with it himself.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Slip, really I do. I know you want to look good in front of Squid, but leave the thinking to those who actually know what they’re doing.”

Slip could feel his face flushing and he started to reply, but Drone cut him off again and addressed the rest of the team. “Bulldozer and Hot Hands will clear a path for Slip. Then Squid will pluck as many bugs as she can off the sides and throw them in the water, right after she takes out the two spiders underneath the bridge. Eagle will try to draw the dragonflies away and I’ll send in my drones and wreak some havoc. When everything is sufficiently chaotic, I’ll give you the word, and Slip will turn invisible, sneak in, and cut the cocoons down.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And Slip, just remember to turn all the way invisible. Very important lives are depending on it.”

“You can do it, Slip,” Eagle said.

Slip tried to fight the feelings of discouragement rising within him. He had never been able to turn invisible, not even once. He could turn himself pitch black, but that wouldn’t help in the broad daylight. The only way he would ever make it through the foray unseen was if Drone’s robots made enough smoke.

Drone continued. “When you cut the cocoons down, roll them to the side of the bridge for Squid. Squid, hold one for Eagle and take the other one yourself. When the rescue is complete, fall back and we’ll rendezvous half a mile downriver, where I’m stationed. Squid, take down those spiders whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh, already? Okay then.” Squid hesitated. “Spiders. Here we go.”

Slip heard a loud splash and leaned over the guardrail just in time to see a funnel of water shoot up from below the surface. At its top stood a tan girl with long brown hair. Though she looked like a human from the waist up, her bottom half was made of eight orange tentacles. As she rose, she shot a stream of ink from her wrist. Then she disappeared under the bridge and was followed a few seconds later by another loud splash. A light mist sprayed across Slip’s face. He heard Squid grunt into her microphone, then saw an ink-stained spider fall from below the bridge into the water. The spider flailed about for a moment but quickly sank beneath the surface.

“Did you all see that? That was awesome! Spiders are out!” she exclaimed.

“Bulldozer and Hot Hands, you’re up,” Drone said. “Clear a path for Slip.”

Bulldozer, a muscular boy with short blond hair, and Hot Hands, a dark-haired, dark-skinned girl, rushed past Slip up the bridge. Bulldozer used his super strength to push cars to the sides while Hot Hands burned encroaching bugs with her palms. Slip watched them anxiously, mapping out his route in his mind.

Bulldozer tried to push a big pickup truck to the side, but couldn’t budge it. “I can’t move this one,” he said with noticeable strain in his voice. “It’s too heavy.”

Eagle swooped low over Bulldozer and Hot Hands with a sapphire blue dragonfly trailing him closely. “It’s okay, Bulldozer,” he said. “Slip, when you reach the truck, go left. There’s more room on that side. And fewer bugs, at least for now.”

“Thanks,” Slip said. He bounced nervously on his toes to keep his muscles loose. As soon as the others had cleared enough of a path, it would be his turn.

A mechanical buzzing filled Slip’s ears as a swarm of baseball-sized drones with helicopter-like rotors zoomed toward the bridge. They were each one of three different colors: black for smoke, blue for ice, and red for fire.

“Bridge crew, how are you doing?” Drone asked. “Need some cover?”

“Maybe,” Hot Hands said. “What do you have in mind?”

The five black drones exploded, releasing black smoke. Slip heard coughing.

“What are you doing, Drone?” Hot Hands gasped.

“Giving you cover. Carry on.”

“We can’t see a thing, you idiot,” she said. “That was supposed to be for Slip!”

“Oh, was it? I guess I forgot,” Drone said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Well, Slip’s going to have to go invisible the right way then.”

Slip clenched his fists to try to keep his anger from rising. Why was Drone making things more difficult? The two of them had never gotten along, but Slip couldn’t believe Drone would risk the success of the mission over a petty squabble. Slip couldn’t see a thing on the bridge anymore, other than Eagle circling above. Eagle was flying lower now, trying to draw the dragonflies away from Bulldozer and Hot Hands.

“I’m going in,” Slip said anxiously. “I can use the cover from the smoke if my power doesn’t work right.”

“No! Not yet,” Drone said. “Wait for my word.”

Another set of miniature explosions went off.

“Ice bombs have detonated. You all didn’t get hit by those, did you? They shot past you, right?” Drone asked.

“Yes, but you would’ve known that yourself if you had set them off first, instead of the smoke bombs,” Bulldozer said. “You need to follow your own plans! You’re going to get us killed!”

“You’re welcome anyway,” Drone said.

Slip stood up and readied himself to sprint. It looked like the smoke from Drone’s bombs was already starting to thin a little bit. He knew he had to go soon—whether he had Drone’s permission or not—if he wanted to have any chance of succeeding. Without waiting for his orders, he closed his eyes and focused on his core, wherever that was. He willed himself to become invisible, opened his eyes, and ran headlong into the smoke. He couldn’t see more than a couple of inches in front of him, but he didn’t have time to slow down. He was running too fast to react when the pickup truck that Bulldozer couldn’t move suddenly appeared out of the smoke in front of him. He ran into it at full speed and fell backwards, landing on his back on the road. As he sat up, he saw a millipede rushing towards him, its pincers spread wide.

“What are you doing, Slip? You are never to act without orders!” Drone shouted.

“If your plan actually gave us a chance, maybe I’d listen.” Slip climbed to his feet and sprinted forward, hurdling the millipede.

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings,” Drone said mockingly. “But you don’t need to worry about me. Worry about yourself. You’re still not invisible.”

“I think I’ve located the villain,” Eagle said. “There’s a delivery truck on the far end of the bridge. He’s got to be in there. I can’t see him anywhere else.”

“Well let’s give him a proper hello,” Drone said.

Another set of explosions let Slip know that the fire bombs had likely found their target. He couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying as he fought his way through the black smoke, narrowly avoiding a confused scorpion’s stinger and accidentally knocking Hot Hands onto the road. He stopped to offer her help, but then thought better of it. The road had melted where her hands had been.

After a minute of weaving between and climbing over cars, he reached the edge of the smoke, where the two cocoons were suspended several feet above his head. Hoping that he had turned fully invisible while he was in the smoke, he climbed onto the top of a pickup truck and jumped onto the woman’s cocoon.

The reactions of two nearby dragonflies let Slip know immediately that he could still be seen. He looked down at his hands. They were solid black. He tried again to turn invisible, but his color stayed the same. He knew he didn’t have time to figure it out, so he went ahead and climbed up to the top of the cocoon and pulled a small, jagged knife out of his belt. The dragonflies, one a deep ruby and the other a honey amber color, immediately began biting at him. He dodged from side to side, trying to keep the thread of the cocoon between himself and the dragonflies. The ruby dragonfly severed most of the thread in one bite. Slip planted his feet on the bulk of the cocoon and jumped towards the other one, which was dangling over the opposite side of the road. The thread from the first cocoon broke, and the force of his jump tilted it to its side as it fell. It landed softly and rolled into the smoke.

“The woman’s cocoon is near you, Hot Hands,” Eagle called out.

“Get her to the side,” Drone yelled.

“I’m going to draw the dragonflies off you, Slip,” Eagle said, circling overhead. Distracted by the movement, the dragonflies chased after Eagle, leaving Slip alone on the man’s cocoon. Slip pulled out his knife, sawed at the thread, and surveyed what was happening. A plume of smoke rose out of the thinning black cloud. The woman’s cocoon, close to the guardrail, had caught fire at Hot Hands’s touch. She and Bulldozer were backed against the edge of the bridge, surrounded by spiders and scorpions. Tentacles were reaching up from under the bridge and grasping blindly at the bugs. One of the tentacles wrapped around Bulldozer’s leg, throwing him into the water below. Slip heard Eagle scream through his headset and turned to see a net fly from the back of the now-smoking delivery truck. A man with insect wings climbed out of the truck, clutching onto a harpoon gun, and Eagle crashed hard onto the road. He was wrapped in the net.

“How do we get out of this one now?” Slip asked. “Got any ideas, Drone?”

“Yes, but they all involve you actually being invisible. Why don’t you come up with something since you want to be the Brains so much?”

“I could come up with a plan, but it’d involve you actually doing something instead of hiding and playing with toys.”

The thread was almost completely severed. Slip looked to where Hot Hands was trying to lift the cocoon over the side. It was smoldering, and she was trying not to burn herself or Squid, who was trying to grip the cocoon with her tentacles. Finally, the cocoon disappeared over the edge with a splash.

“The cocoon is in the water. It’s burned almost all the way through,” Squid said.

“Is she all right?” Hot Hands asked.

“She’ll live. I can probably carry her and the other one if you can get him here, Slip.”

Just then, his knife cut completely through the thread. Slip had been focusing on his teammates and was startled by the sudden free fall. He tried desperately to tilt the cocoon so it would land on its side, but he wasn’t able to react quickly enough to rotate the cocoon in the air. The man’s head hit the road with a sickening crack, and Slip rolled off the cocoon onto the road. Slip gasped and crawled to where the man’s head was sticking out of the cocoon. His skull was bleeding heavily.

“Slip, did you just kill him?” Drone asked, astonished. “That’s a new low, even by your standards.”

Slip didn’t have a chance to check if he was dead or alive. Other than the few bugs who were eyeing Hot Hands cautiously, every other creature was closing in on him. He rolled the cocoon to the side of the bridge and called out, “Cocoon drop, left side. He’s injured, so get him out as quick as you can.”

“Ready,” Squid said quickly.

As he dropped the cocoon over the edge of the bridge, he realized that he was facing the wrong direction. Squid was waiting on the other side of the bridge. He watched in horror as the cocoon dropped into the water and disappeared under a large splash, just out of the grasp of Squid’s desperate lunge.

A sharp pain burned in Slip’s leg, and he looked down to see a scorpion stinger buried in his calf. He fell to the ground and closed his eyes, waiting for the bugs to come and rip him apart.

But the bugs did not come. Instead, the loud whir of powerful machinery shutting down rang through the air.

A gravelly female voice came through Slip’s headset. “This concludes the practical application section of the Level Four Super Examination. Please locate a seat in order to complete the theoretical knowledge section of the Level Four Super Examination.”

Slip opened his eyes. The bugs, bridge, river, and city had vanished and were replaced by an enormous monochrome dome. In the center of the dome was a raised platform. It had acted as the bridge in the test simulation. On either side of the platform lay a crash dummy wrapped in gauze—or, rather, the smoldering embers of what had been gauze. For a moment, Slip couldn’t remember where he was. He felt a sharp pain in his arm and jumped, thinking it was another bug. When he turned his head, he saw it was a stout older woman with a syringe in her hand. Whatever the woman had just given him had cancelled the effects of his earlier injection, which had tricked his brain into thinking the test was a real mission.

About twenty yards away, two other stout women in their late seventies were lining up six metal desks, evenly spaced about ten feet apart. Each woman was wearing a brightly colored skirt with a matching jacket. Slip had heard rumors that these test graders were actually robots designed to take the human element out of the grading process. Even after four attempts at his Super test, he wasn’t sure if the rumors were true or not.

While the women in yellow and orange placed papers and pencils on each desk, the red grader lifted a microphone to her mouth. The same gravelly, monotone voice sounded in the headset again. “Please take a seat. You will have thirty minutes to complete the written portion of your examination.”

Lifting himself slowly to his feet, Slip put his hand to his calf to feel for a scorpion stinger, but there was nothing there. After a couple steps toward the ramp at the end of the platform, the pain had ceased entirely. He made his way to the seat at the end of the row, and as he passed in front of his teammates, Slip felt their eyes boring into him. Drone, an olive-skinned boy with black hair and a baby face, was sitting in the first chair. He looked about three years younger than seventeen, his actual age. As Slip walked past him, Drone stuck his foot out, but Slip stepped nimbly over it and gave him a dirty look. Slip sat next to Hot Hands, who had accidentally set fire to her test paper and was requesting a new one.

“Put your gloves on, dear,” the orange grader said with an irritated glare, handing her a new sheet.

“Sorry,” Hot Hands said sheepishly. She took the paper, her hands now in silver mesh gloves.

The red grader spoke again. “Your thirty minutes starts now. Begin.”

Slip looked down at his paper. He knew it didn’t matter what he answered since he had already failed the practical section. His mind was replaying everything that went wrong: fiery cocoons, cracked skulls, bug attacks, and his own silhouette, out of place like a hole burned into a film reel. No, it really made no difference if he aced the written portion. But he had nothing else to do for the next half hour, so he absentmindedly wrote down answers. He was finished long before the graders announced that time was up.

“Please set your pencils down and wait while we collect and grade your papers,” the red grader said. “We will have your results in thirty minutes. Please help yourselves to some cookies.” She pulled a container of cookies out of her bag, and then all the graders marched from the room in a straight line.

While his teammates talked excitedly about their test and whether they thought they’d pass, Slip kept his head down on his desk. He silently wiped a tear from his eye.

After what seemed like hours, the graders returned. One of them set up three chairs in the front, while another placed the tests back on the desks.

“Please return to your desks,” the orange grader said.

Slip’s test had a large 5 written in red ink at the top with a circle around it. Slip glanced at Hot Hands’s paper and saw that she had scored a perfect 10.

When everyone had returned to their seats, the red grader spoke mechanically. “Just so there are no questions about your grades, we will review the answers. What is the answer to question one, Slip? What type of mission was it?”

“Me? Oh, um, a rescue mission, ma’am?” Slip answered.

“Very good,” she replied.

Drone began to clap mockingly.

“Please hold applause until the end of the test,” the yellow grader snapped, without looking at Drone.

“Question two, Eagle? Who was the villain and how did you know?”

Eagle looked at his paper. “Well, I guess the villain must be The Cicada. He came out every thirteen years and destroyed everything he could for about a month or two, then went underground to rebuild his bug army. He genetically modified them to be big and raised them in his lair. He could control insects and arachnids, and he came out of hiding on the exact same day at the exact same place every thirteen years. The fourth time he tried it, the authorities were ready for him and captured him right away.”

“Good answer. If only all villains were so predictable,” the red grader said. “Question three, Bulldozer? Who were you rescuing?”

“The president and vice president.”

“Good. That should have been an easy one.”

Slip shook his head. He shouldn’t have missed that question, even if it didn’t really matter. Of course the woman was the vice president—she had been on the news almost every day before the election last month.

Drone raised his hand. “In theory, if we had put the ex-president and the new president, would we have gotten credit? Since I don’t think most people would survive breaking their neck and being thrown into a river.” Drone laughed, but no one else did.

The red grader ignored him, turning instead to speak to Squid. “Question four, Squid? What would you have done differently if the bridge were above land instead of water?”

“If it were above land, I probably wouldn’t have been there,” Squid said. “But, in that situation, it probably would have been better to draw the bugs away from the controller and off the bridge. That would have either forced The Cicada out of his truck, making him an easier target, or forced the bugs out of range, where we could take them out one by one.”

Drone raised his hand. “I think that, depending on how high the bridge was, it could still have worked to throw the bugs off the edge of the bridge. The escape would have been different, but I think my plan would have worked in either situation. I don’t understand why I didn’t get full credit for my answer.”

“Because,” the red grader said with an exaggerated sigh, “you failed to explain how Squid would get to her position without water.”

Drone turned slightly red and glared at Squid as if she were the reason for his partial credit.

The rest of the questions passed similarly; whoever was called on gave an acceptable answer to which Drone attempted to make improvements. At the end of the last question, Drone was anything but satisfied with the explanations he had been given for his grade, which he revealed to be a passing 7. When it was concluded that there were no further questions, the yellow grader handed several sheets of paper to the red grader.

“Now you will receive the results of your practical application test,” the red grader said. “First, Eagle Avery. You have clearly mastered the balance between human and eagle. Your wings have become more fully developed and your flying form has improved significantly. However, you still need to work on your aerial maneuvering. I know you had to change your flight path as the situation became dire, but that net was avoidable. Nevertheless, you received a 9 on your practical portion, and you have passed. Congratulations. Please come receive your certificate of completion.”

Eagle breathed a sigh of relief and retrieved his certificate.

“Next is Donald Dillon.”

Drone leaned forward in his seat and looked around haughtily. Slip crossed his fingers and silently wished for Drone to get a bad score.

“Your drones worked as designed and were accurately flown. The black smoke bombs worked especially well, although your decision to deploy them first was questionable. Your plan was reasonably good, although you failed to take into consideration the weaknesses of your other team members. A team is only as strong as its weakest link, and if you fail to learn that, you will end up being the weakest link yourself. You failed to adapt the plan to changing circumstances. We have decided to give you a 6, which is passing, but your performance was lacking. Furthermore, it is our opinion that you showed some villain tendencies during your test. You will be recommended to a psychiatrist immediately for a mental health examination, and we will continue to have periodic observations until we are confident that you will not use your abilities for evil.” Although he had passed, the red grader did not clap for him. She simply held his certificate out.

Drone snatched it quickly from her hand and sat down with his arms crossed. How he could be so arrogant after already failing the test three times was beyond Slip’s understanding.

After Bulldozer and Hot Hands both received passing 7 grades, the red grader turned to address Slip. He sank into his seat, expecting the worst.

“Next is Slip Stephenson. Simply put, you needed to be stealthier. As you well know by now, turning black is not a registered superpower like turning invisible is. We understand that the plan your team had did not maximize your existing abilities, but we cannot give you a passing grade for your performance. You were lucky to turn the vice president’s cocoon in the air, but dropping the president on his head and throwing him off the wrong side of the bridge was careless at best and manslaughter at worst. You received a 2 for your performance. You will be taking your Level 5 course after the Christmas holiday. Please work on improving your skills. Remember, Level 5 is your last opportunity. Be thinking about what you would like to pursue as a Norm career should you not pass.”

Slip felt himself turning red with embarrassment. Only one grade was left, and he selfishly hoped that Squid would fail, but it was soon revealed that she scored an 8. Of his whole Level 4 class, only Slip had failed.

When the applause died after a few seconds, the grader in red continued. “Congratulations to those of you who passed, and best of luck at your Super University. The bus to the airport leaves in thirty minutes. Make sure you take everything with you.” She gave a quick bow to the students, and she and the other women walked towards a door in the wall.

The other students gathered their things and talked excitedly with one another. Slip did his best to look unapproachable, fixing his eyes on the ground. He was the first one on the bus. He took a seat near the middle and leaned against the window. It wasn’t cold enough to snow, but the condensation on the glass against his face made him shiver. One by one the others boarded the bus, joking and laughing. No one said a word to him as they walked by. About two hours later, when the bus arrived at Dulles Airport, Slip got off without even saying a word to the latest set of teammates to leave his life forever.

When Slip arrived at the airport in Tallahassee, he collected his suitcase and fought his way through the evening crowd toward the exit. He looked for the familiar silver sedan that always picked him up. Since family members were often targets for vengeful villains, it was important to follow the necessary precautions when traveling to and from the test center. Instead of being picked up by his parents, the family driver Bernard was in charge of transportation.

As Slip carried his suitcase to the curb just outside the airport, Bernard pulled up and got out of the car. Bernard was always wearing a suit and never wearing a smile. He had slicked-back gray hair and was almost always wearing sunglasses, no matter what time of day it was. He had been the family’s driver for as long as Slip could remember. Bernard opened the car door, nodded silently to Slip, and put the suitcase in the trunk while Slip climbed into the back seat.

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a red brick split-level. Slip thanked Bernard, grabbed his things, and walked slowly up to the front door. He reached into the front pouch of his backpack and pulled out his house key. He opened the storm door carefully, slid the key into the lock and turned it as quietly as he could. He turned the doorknob, opened the door just enough to slip through, and silently closed it behind him.

The house smelled strongly of garlic and grease, and he heard the sound of silverware clinging against plates from above. He heard his twin brother’s voice and listened for a few seconds to hear whether Scout had passed his test, but Scout was only talking about. . .