Virus Attack (7 page)

Mr. Grimm gazed at Toby as he spoke. “The Hero.com Web site has been sabotaged. Initially the main global feed was disrupted, hence your powers behaving erratically when you were out on a mission. Then a computer virus was introduced into the system. Inserted directly into the Ground Station pipeline so it bypassed the firewalls and viral scanners. It was a real piece of craftsmanship. Metamorphic coding, the likes of which we have not seen before. It created strange loops and even held genetic modification algorithms that—” He hesitated, suddenly aware of the blank faces looking at him.

“So … it was bad?” Toby said, summarizing the words he did understand.

“Crippling,” Mr. Grimm responded, regaining his composure. “It took almost twenty-four hours to spread, but when it did it created a biofeedback. Er … the pretty fireworks that shot from your computer screen.” It was obvious Mr. Grimm was not used to speaking to children, and this made Lorna increasingly dislike the man's emotionless countenance.

“So it was some kind of feedback that hit us?” she asked. “And you mentioned genetic modification—do you mean the way Hero.com alters our bodies and gives us superpowers?”

Mr. Grimm's eyebrow trembled a fraction, the only sign that he was impressed.

“Indeed. It so happened that you four were the only people logged on to the site at the time. Other Downloaders around the globe had already deployed their hyper energy … uh … superpowers, beforehand, which have since expired. Others tried after the site went down and were unsuccessful.”

Pete frowned. The leather seat creaked as he leaned forward. “So, logically … we're the only heroes with superpowers?”

Mr. Grimm fixed his steely gaze on Pete.

“Indeed. That is why
everything
is now hanging on your decisions. You are the only heroes left.”

Stunned silence greeted Mr. Grimm's comment. Toby was the first to speak up.

“That's impossible. What about Chameleon, or even you? You're both Primes, right? We can't be the only people with powers!”

Mr. Grimm steepled his fingers under his chin. “Remember what I said. Being a hero is a state of mind. There are fewer Primes than ever before. There was once a theory that Primes were the next step in human evolution. Something new. But alas, history bred more Primes than there are now. Multiple theories have been offered: climate change, artificial preservatives in foods, chemicals used to purify drinking water. You name it and somebody has had a theory about it. But the fact is we do not know why. Those Primes that are born and discover their gifts are increasingly becoming, how can I say this—influenced by acquisitive motivations.”

Emily thought about that for a moment. “You mean they become villains?”

“Yes. I suppose ‘criminals' is a more precise term. Even
those who are not seeking global domination, the good guys, are ushered into the shadows as their numbers dwindle. Destined to keep a low profile for fear of becoming extinct. The days are gone when a Prime will fight for what he believes in—they are not heroes, they are just people gifted with powers. That's why we have Hero.com, to make real heroes when those who have the power are too afraid to wield it. Without Hero.com, the Hero Foundation is just another organization that will crumble to ashes, and humanity will be faced with an army of supervillains that they have no hope of defeating.”

Everybody swapped glances. This was certainly not how they had imagined superhero life. A dying breed? Extinction? Mr. Grimm had not answered anything, but had simply provoked more questions. Toby voiced this.

“Good,” replied the man in black. “Questions are healthy. The pursuit of knowledge is a heroic cause, is it not?”

Pete clicked his fingers and felt smug that he had assembled the jigsaw pieces before the others. But the picture was not looking very appealing.

“That's why they created Hero.com—to give out powers to people who didn't have any, so the heroic Primes wouldn't be forced into the open. They wouldn't be targets for the bad guys.”

“An excellent deduction. The scientific accumulation of Prime powers was a project started under the banner of the Higher Energy Research Organization, headed by the world's top minds. They succeeded in distilling and even replicating their superpowers through genetic research. It was a small step from that to being able to incubate the raw power and then apply it to an ordinary human. The digital interface of the Web site is simply a method of quantum tunneling the genetic information into your body. It's all very complicated. But the Web site keeps sending instructional pulses out to your body. When the pulses stop, the powers fade. Somehow the pulse packed your bodies with more powers than we would safely administer. That's why they're unstable, and wearing off at erratic rates.”

Toby's brow was creased in concentration. “I kind of get it.”

Mr. Grimm flashed a rare smile. “Like I said, it's all very
quantum
.”

Something was bothering Emily. “But why do we have powers now? We didn't download anything.”

“An unexpected side effect from the virus attack. As you were the only ones online, you took the full hit of the feedback. Dozens, possibly hundreds, of powers struck you simultaneously. We have no idea what they are, how long they will last, or how you can control them.
But the hypothesis is that you have absorbed enough energy to last the week. That should be enough time.”

“For what exactly?” Toby asked warily.

“To help defend the Hero Foundation.”

“So just a small job then?” said Pete sarcastically.

“You can start by tracking down the culprits who sabotaged Hero.com and stop them before they launch a full-scale attack on the Foundation. Even now we have technicians working to bring the site back online, but that could take a while; the viral damage was extensive. As long as Hero.com is off-line, the Hero Foundation, and the world, is vulnerable.”

“So do I have this right?” Pete asked. “We go out and risk our necks to save a bunch of superheroes, like you, who are cowering away in case the big bad villains hurt you?”

Mr. Grimm's eyes narrowed a fraction. “I would have put it more eloquently. But you are correct. We are too valuable to risk.”

“And we're expendable?” barked Lorna.

“You have proven yourselves as heroes already. You have risked your lives on several tasks—from fighting Doc Tempest to stopping more mundane petty crimes. But each act, from stopping a bully to destroying those pirates, has huge implications on the world.”

Lorna was not convinced. “That was different! Those stupid little jobs Toby chose didn't change anything. So
what if a boat full of pirated DVDs gets through? Some film companies lose money. Hardly a crime.”

Mr. Grimm thought for a moment. “Have you heard of the butterfly effect? It's a quantum thing.”

Lorna sat back in confusion. “Now you're changing the subject.”

“In London a butterfly flaps its wings, which in turn displaces air particles. Those particles hit other particles, bouncing like a pinball. One air particle hits two air particles. Now those two particles hit another two particles. Now we have four, which hit another four to make eight. Then sixteen … then thirty-two. The number of air particles displaced grows exponentially. In other words, by the time air particles have bounced off one another halfway around the globe the number of displaced particles has grown to thousands of billions. Enough, for example, to cause a cyclone that could devastate China.”

“That's one lethal butterfly!” murmured Pete. “They should just kill it.”

Emily's brow was creased in concentration. “So one tiny action can have bigger consequences?”

“The pirated films would have been sold, the money passed to the organized gangs who then buy weapons with which they cause acts of terrorism—which results in the loss of lives. By stopping that freighter you have possibly saved the lives of hundreds of people.”

“Okay, I understand now,” said Lorna. “But that still doesn't make us expendable.”

“You stopped that boat because you thought you were doing some good. Now you are being asked to help stop a catastrophe. There are more criminal Primes than law-abiding ones. Hero.com was created to address that problem. We can't create more Primes, but we can create new heroes. Without help from other heroes, Primes are forced to hide or risk extinction. There are exceptions, a handful of Primes who are risking themselves. I am one, Chameleon is another.”

“So why don't
you
stop the bad guys then?” Pete demanded. He was feeling angry about being thought of as expendable. That comment summed up his life.

“A fair point. We are busy protecting the public, trying to stop the other villains out there who are using the situation to their advantage. That would cause total anarchy and alert the public to our existence.”

“Is that so bad?” asked Lorna. “The second part, I mean.”

“Supers have remained out of the public eye for centuries. No good could come of the world knowing our secret now. People like routine and the belief that their leaders are in control. They would find the truth too … disturbing.”

Silence filled the car as the friends thought about the situation they were in.

Toby nodded. His decision was made. “Okay. We'll do it.”

Lorna looked at him in astonishment. “
We
will?”

“Come on, Lorn. This is a real chance to help.”

“He's right,” said Emily. Toby was surprised at his ally. He looked at Pete, who shrugged back.

“I still think we should be getting paid real money to do this. But okay. Let's save the day. Again.”

Lorna exhaled loudly. “Okay, while you real superheroes cower away in your hideouts, what are we supposed to do?”

Mr. Grimm gave her a polite nod. “So you are all in. Perfect. It appears that there are two villains behind this plot. They intend to recruit others to their cause of bringing down the Hero Foundation. They have recruited one already, Trojan. We suspect they will try to free an inmate in Diablo Island Penitentiary next—someone who would be perfect for their cause.”

“A prison?” asked Pete.

“A very secure prison for supervillains, and the occasional hero who crosses to the wrong side of the law.”

“So who is it they want?”

“A very lethal customer with a unique talent. If we can stop our suspects before they try to release the prisoner, then this whole affair will be quickly quashed.” Mr. Grimm met their gazes in turn. “Everything depends upon your success.”

Pete shattered the solemnity of the moment.

“So. No pressure then?”

“How do we get to this Diablo Island?” Emily asked.

“You fly, of course,” Mr. Grimm replied.

“Cool, so we definitely have flying powers?” said Pete with a grin.

“No. I meant: you fly.”

Pete was suddenly aware that the SUV had stopped. Mr. Grimm opened the door. They were in the middle of the countryside, parked on a dirt track. Sitting in a field was a black Bell/Agusta tilt-rotor aircraft—the massive helicopter-style wings were already whirling. Once in flight the rotors would swivel forward like a traditional aircraft. It was the ultimate in luxury transportation.

“Oh,” said Pete, feeling somewhat disappointed. “You meant fly like
that
.”

Huge storm-surge waves pounded the shore, soaking the bronze
Nematode
, which had surfaced atop a cliff. An abandoned church stood close by, the rusting bell adding a mournful note to the strong winds.

Inside the craft, Worm, Basilisk, and Trojan peered through the curved canopy at Diablo Island offshore, almost lost in the curtain of rain. They were off the coast of Iceland, in a spot chosen because its constant
foul weather made any air assault difficult. The island was composed almost entirely of iron rock that made Worm's superpowered transportation skills impotent and would probably damage the
Nematode
if it tried to dig through.

The walls of the prison were attached snugly to the cliff edge and sloped outward in a V-shape so that if any daring rescuer managed to scale the cliff, they would then be faced with a one-hundred-foot, smooth titanium-coated wall that overhung the jagged rocks below. The wall was topped by an assortment of advanced sensors and surveillance cameras, and the interior was bathed in bright floodlights that ensured it was as bright as midday throughout the long Arctic nights. In short, it was one of the most impregnable places on earth.

However, it looked as if somebody had managed to break out.

The
Nematode
's observation windows magnified their target like a set of giant binoculars. “Lens magnifiers! My own design.” Worm beamed proudly, but his companions didn't seem at all impressed.

“It may have been state-of-the-art a hundred years ago, Gramps,” said Trojan with a sly smile. “These days we'd use a camera.”

Basilisk stared hard at the island. “There is no bank vault more tightly guarded.”

A large hole had been melted through one of the walls
and construction teams were in the process of patching it up, watched over by an entire platoon of tough-looking armed guards—Enforcers: a secret army created and funded by the United Nations and dedicated to keeping supervillains in check.

“Looks like we may be too late,” quipped Worm. “Your boy may have already fled.”

“Escape is supposed to be impossible,” said Basilisk, never taking his eyes from the island.

“Escape
was
supposed to be impossible,” said Trojan. “It was some new guy they had in there. You guys aren't very clued in to current events, huh? Very uncool. How're you supposed to know what's going on in the world around you?”

“Worm's television is a couple of decades out-of-date,” muttered Basilisk.