Free First Superhero 1: The Second Super by Logan Rutherford Page A

actually the hole leading to the surface, and I would later find it was a hundred yards wide.
    A pair of glowing eyes descended into the hole. Even though it was too dark to see his face, I knew it was Richter. He picked up my limp body, and I didn’t even have the energy to protest or fight back. I was in too much pain.
    Richter carried me out of the hole, and dumped me at the edge of it as soon as we got outside. I coughed up some dust, and tried to get as much oxygen in me as I could. The oxygen and fresh air sped up my recovery, because I was already feeling much better, much faster.
    “When you’re ready to stand, I’m ready to talk,” Richter said as he sat down next to me, dangling his feet over the edge of the pit my body had formed.
    I took a few more deep breaths, and, while trying not to scream in pain, I pushed myself up to my feet. I stumbled a bit like I was drunk, but I eventually found my footing. I could feel my insides repairing themselves much quicker now, and my pain was being replaced with anger.
    Richter stood up and chuckled. “There we go,” he said.
    I took a few wobbly steps toward him, and yelled “You son of a bitch!” as I swung my fist at him as hard as I could muster up. Even though I wasn’t at a hundred percent, it was still a punch fast enough that most people wouldn’t see it coming, and hard enough that it would most definitely kill you.
    Still, Richter dodged it with ease, weaving and bobbing his head out of the way like a professional boxer.
    I tried to swing again, but Richter just pushed me, sending me flying a hundred miles an hour into a boulder. My spine cracked and broke again. I tried to yell in pain but was paralyzed for a split second. My spine snapped back into place, repairing itself.
    Richter was by my side in the blink of an eye. “Now, I can do this all day. You, on the other hand, look like you’re in a lot of pain. Trust me, you’ll get used to it. We can save the ‘getting used to it’ for a later date though. Right now, I just want to have a discussion if that’s alright with you. Or would you like for me to send you down the side of another mountain? We’re in Washington right now, and there’s lots of ’em to choose from.”
    I gritted my teeth, rage filling every inch of my body. I spat on the ground next to Richter. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
    Richter sighed. “Alright, here we go.” He picked me up, about to take me on another painful ride.
    “Wait!” I said. I didn’t want to have to go through pain like that again. “Okay,” I said through heavy breathing. “Let’s talk.”

15

THE MOUNTAINTOP
    I SAT across from Richter when his eyes stopped glowing. I could see his face clearly and fully. There was a bit of dirt on it, and his longish hair covered part of his eyes until he brushed it aside. He smiled, giving me a toothy, pearly-white grin. His eyes were a deep brown and—for lack of a better phrase—filled with a boyish charm. Like he’d just gotten a new toy for Christmas and was moments away from tearing it open to play.
    “So you’re the new kid on the block,” he said, examining my battered body. “Your suit’s a little torn,” he said as he poked at my skin through a hole in the side.
    I flinched away, but instantly regretting showing any weakness.
    “What’s with the suit, anyways? You think you’re some sort of hero?” Richter let out a laugh. “That’s just ridiculous. You’re no superhero .” He spat the word out like it was venom.
    “I’m better than you,” I said through gritted teeth.
    “Oh really?” Richter turned and looked at the damage we’d done to the mountain. It was almost totally blown apart, more of a crater than a mountain. “Because I think there’s a mountain around here somewhere that would disagree with you,” Richter said. He laughed, proud of his joke.
    “What do you want, Richter?” I asked.
    Richter raised a hand. “Please, call me Patrick.”
    “Just tell