The Superhero's Team (The Superhero's Son Book 2) by Flint Lucas

Author:Flint, Lucas [Flint, Lucas]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Secret Identity Books
Published: 2016-06-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I felt the heat and flames from the exploding bomb behind me, but did not look over my shoulder at it in order to save my face. I was trying to keep Plutarch—who had become a quivering mess under me—safe from the explosion, even though my hodgepodge of a costume was probably not good against fire. The volume of the explosion was the worst part, however, because I was practically deafened by the noise it made.

But eventually, the explosion faded. Hesitantly, I looked over my shoulder to see the damage.

The living room looked like it had been completely nuked. The flat screen TV had been almost completely melted, while the sofas were on fire or burnt to a crisp. What remained of the main window had been shattered, while the curtains were nothing more than smoking remains. Oddly, there were nails embedded in almost everything; in fact, there were so many nails that I wondered how we had managed to avoid them. My clothes, thankfully, were still in one piece, although I noticed a few holes in the back of my hoodie that smoked slightly.

Standing up, I looked around carefully, but did not see anyone who might have thrown the bomb. At least until someone jumped through the smashed window and landed in the crater created by the bomb.

The guy who jumped through the window looked crazy. He wore homemade metal armor and carried a really weird-looking gun that didn't seem to fire bullets. And on top of his bald head was a hard hat, although I doubted this guy was here to do any construction.

“Did it work?” said the guy, looking around the room eagerly. “Is he—”

He cut himself off as soon as he saw me and Plutarch and scowled. “Damn it. How did you survive?”

I wasn't sure who this guy was until Plutarch, who was now crouched behind me, said, “Nail Gun? What are you doing here?”

“Why, I am here to kill you, of course,” said Nail Gun. He pointed his gun at me. “I don't know who the kid is, but I'll kill him, too, while I'm at it.”

Nail Gun? That was one of the former members of the Vile Four. I took a fighting stance and said, “Kill me? Good luck with that. I'm not just a kid. I'm a neohero.”

“So? Neoheroes can still be killed,” said Nail Gun. He waved his gun. “Especially with my nail gun, which I designed specially to kill neoheroes like you.”

“Where's security?” said Plutarch, looking at the entrance to the living room. “They should have caught you before you even thought about entering.”

“They did, but I killed them before they could catch me,” said Nail Gun with a crazed grin. “I disabled your security systems, too, so no one else knows that we're here. And by the time anyone finds out that I killed you … well, there won't be enough of you left to cremate.”

“Stay back, Mr. Plutarch,” I said, holding my hand toward Plutarch behind me. “I'll distract Nail Gun.

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