Dexter wore the suit, the inner lining adjusted automatically sealing around his frame with a faint hydraulic whirr.
[Suit integrity at 97%. All systems nominal.]
The small HUD on his arm flickered to life, scrolling with heart rate, environmental data, and power readouts. He flexed his arms and felt the synthetic fibers respond like real muscles.
Outside, the sound of footsteps on cracked asphalt grew closer.
The eyepatch man and his crew stepped out from between parked cars, boots grinding gravel underfoot.
"Oi, kid. Get out," the man barked.
Dexter pushed open the truck's side panel and stepped down. The matte-black suit clung to every line of his frame, looking almost alive as it shifted with his movements. His voice came sharp, mocking.
"What's the deal, old man? You got a problem?"
"Hand over the robot and the money, kid." The man lit a cigarette, the flame briefly reflecting in his good eye.
"And why would I?" Dexter crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.
A slow drag of smoke. "Because this is my turf. Now, do you want to do this the easy way… or the hard way?"
Dexter tilted his head, smirking. "Ehh, but I don't wanna. What are you gonna do about it, old man?"
The man dropped the cigarette and ground it under his boot. "Hard way it is."
Dexter's gaze swept across the group, his tone sharp with sarcasm. "Really? You're so desperate you're gonna beat up a kid for cash?"
"Surprised?" the eyepatch man said coldly. "In life, the strong control and the weak obey. Enough talk. Tear him apart."
The goons surged forward, bats and pipes raised.
'Mk-1 mobility test… go,' Dexter thought, stepping into them.
The first swung a chain. Dexter slipped the strike, pivoted, and answered with a clean jab-cross-hook. His fists cracked against the man's jaw, the servo-assisted punch sending him sprawling to the ground. Another rushed from behind with a bat. Dexter blocked with his forearm, absorbing the blow, then twisted and landed an uppercut to the gut that lifted the man off his feet.
The third lunged with brass knuckles. Dexter's body moved on instinct, boxing drills from his past life guiding him. Duck, slip, counter. His fist hammered into the man's ribs, followed by a short hook to the face. Bone crunched.
"Not bad," Dexter muttered to himself, glancing at the HUD. "Reaction time's syncing perfectly."
Another thug charged. This time, Dexter snapped his wings open with a sharp metallic hiss, lifting himself a meter off the ground. The thug's swing hit nothing but air. Dexter twisted mid-flight, testing his idea of boxing with aerial mobility.
"Let's see if it works."
He dropped low, wings flaring for balance, and launched a jab that cracked across the man's face. Before the thug could collapse, Dexter tilted forward, gliding with a short burst and driving his knee into another's chest. The man flew back, gasping for air.
The wings weren't just for show. When folded forward, they became a shield, catching strikes and deflecting blows. When extended, they cut through the air with bladed precision, tearing fabric and leaving shallow cuts across the goons' arms and shoulders.
One by one, they fell. Groaning, clutching bruises, bloodied from precision strikes.
Dexter hovered slightly, experimenting with short bursts of wing-assisted flight. "Not bad, Mk-1. Agility could be smoother and the strength output's solid. This is good data."
He ascended higher to finish the last test when suddenly something clamped around his ankle.
His HUD spiked a warning.
Looking down, Dexter saw the eyepatch man grinning up at him.
"What—?!"
The man yanked hard.
SLAM!
Dexter hit the asphalt like a meteor, the ground cracking beneath him.
"KEHUK!" He gasped, pain flaring through his back. His HUD flickered from the shock.
"Shit!!"
The eyepatch man's shadow loomed over him. His fist glowed with a deep, unnatural red. With a savage roar, he slammed it down.
"Do you think I'm just an ordinary human, huh, kid?!"
Dexter rolled just in time as the punch caved in the street where his head had been.
Bang!!
He sprang up, wings shifting for balance. His eyes narrowed.
"Tsk… to think that man is a super," he muttered.
The man's body flushed crimson, his muscles swelling, veins glowing faintly under his skin. His movements were sharp and heavier.
"Catch this kid!"
The next punch came like a cannon. Dexter blocked with his wings folded tight across his chest.
BANG!
The impact rang like steel against steel. The force shoved him backward, boots scraping long lines in the asphalt.
'His punch force output is nearly triple that of a baseline human. Enhanced strength confirmed, though there are no signs of agility augmentation; his movements are still predictable,' Dexter analyzed mid-slide, teeth gritted.
"You really are trying to kill me," Dexter muttered with a crooked grin. "I respect that."
The man sneered, throwing another punch. Dexter sidestepped, countering with a sharp hook to the ribs. The blow landed, but the man barely flinched, answering with a backhand that sent Dexter skidding again.
Three of the goons staggered back to their feet, thinking they had an opening. Metal pipes and chains swung down at him.
"Tsk, Scram!"
Dexter's wings snapped wide. With a powerful flap—
BANG!!
A burst of air blasted the men off their feet, sending them tumbling into trash cans and parked cars like rag dolls.
The eyepatch man didn't flinch. He lunged again, fist glowing brighter. Punch after punch rained down, the ground trembling beneath his strikes. Dexter blocked, parried, countered but every blow sent shockwaves through his arms.
'This guy… his output is insane. But wait—'
Dexter's eyes narrowed. The rhythm of the man's attacks was changing. The punches weren't as sharp, not as heavy. His movements grew sloppy. The crimson glow that coated him flickered faintly.
A realization sparked.
"So that's it… you're burning through stamina to boost your power." Dexter smirked, blood at the corner of his mouth. "Looks like you're almost out of juice, old man."
"SHUT UP!!"
The man roared and threw another punch, slower this time. Dexter slipped inside the strike, wings tilting to give him speed. He slammed his fist into the man's stomach.
BANG!
The air whooshed out of him.
Another jab-cross-hook followed, each assisted by the suit's servos.
The man staggered.
Desperate, the eyepatch man swung again, but Dexter folded his wings in tight, blocking. The impact rang hollow, weaker than before.
Dexter's grin widened.
He drove his fist up in a brutal uppercut. The man's head snapped back, the red glow shattering like glass. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, unconscious.
Dexter stood there, chest heaving. His suit was battered, wings dented and trembling. Sweat stung his eyes.
"This prototype suit held up… but barely," he muttered, half amused, half exhausted. He let himself drop onto the cracked pavement, flipping onto his back.
"Ahhh… I'm tired."
The night was quiet now, broken only by the groans of beaten men scattered around him.
_______
Abandoned Power Plant – Industrial District, Metro City
The cavernous hall was dark except for the flicker of monitors. Wires snaked across the concrete floor, leading to a massive control panel buried in schematics, blueprints, and empty coffee cups.
Bent over the largest screen, a blue-skinned alien with a massive, egg-shaped head tapped furiously at a holographic keyboard. His eyes darted between lines of data, muttering to himself.
"Minion!" he suddenly barked.
From the shadows emerged a greenish, fish-like alien with an underbite full of sharp, crooked teeth. He swims comfortably inside the head like an aquarium in a hulking gorilla-shaped mech suit, hydraulic arms clanking with each step.
"Yes, sir?"
"We," the blue alien announced, turning dramatically, "are going to create… a hero."
Minion blinked. "Create a hero? Wait, wait… what? Why would you do that?"
Megamind spread his arms wide. "So I can make him come out! Now—ask me how I'm going to do it. Go on! Ask!"
Minion sighed. "How are you gonna do it, sir?"
Megamind's grin widened. "Hahaha! I'm going to give someone—no idea who yet—Metro Man's powers. And once they have them, they'll become Metro City's brand-new 'hero.'" He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "A false hero under my control."
He spun on his heel toward a set of covered poster boards. "Over here! Follow!"
With flourish, he yanked the cover away, revealing crude illustrations of a smiling caped man shaking hands with a stick-figure version of Megamind… followed by that same hero setting the city on fire.
"And then, finally, I'm going to make the hero evil… and lure that man out!"
Minion tilted his head. "But, sir… why are you so sure Metro Man's still alive?"
Megamind's eyes glimmered. "Behold, Minion… Metro Man's cape and his skeleton!"
From a glass case, he pulled out the pristine, white cape in one hand and a bleached skeleton in the other.
"Tell me what you see."
Minion squinted. "…Dandruff and a skeleton?"
"Ha… ha… YES! It's his DNA!" Megamind spun dramatically toward his workstation. "From this, we'll extract the source of Metro Man's awesome power. But—" he jabbed a finger at the bones "—something here isn't right."
Minion frowned. "Not right?"
"At first, I wanted to create a hero because… well, the other heroes are banned now, which is boring. And those tin cans out there? Also boring." Megamind sniffed disdainfully. "But even though the dandruff came from Metro Man… this skeleton didn't."
He held the bones aloft, inspecting them like a jeweler with a flawed diamond. "I've studied it, and I'm sure of it. Hyperian skeletons are denser, more compact. While this is brittle and almost falling apart."
"But sir," Minion asked, "wasn't it burned by the death beam? Wouldn't that make it brittle?"
Megamind stared at him. "Are you blind, Minion? Metro Man's suit is made of the same material as this cape—" he waved the fabric "—but that suit vanished when the beam hit. Yet this cape survived completely intact. Suspicious? I think yes."
Minion nodded slowly. "It does sound suspicious…"
"That's why I know, in my massive brain, that Metro Man is still alive!" Megamind declared triumphantly.
Ding-dong.
They both froze.
"…Minion," Megamind said slowly, "did you forget to put away the doormat with 'Secret Hideout' written on it?"
Minion's eyes darted away. "I keep forgetting where I put it."
Megamind pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go check."
Minion lumbered off in his mech suit.
A few minutes later, he returned… looking sheepish.
"Uh… sir," Minion said carefully, "you… have a visitor."
Megamind didn't turn immediately. "A visitor? Here?!" He spun around. "Who—"
Standing next to Minion was a tall, lanky man with wild, flame-shaped orange hair that seemed to defy gravity. His sleek black-and-white bodysuit bore a bold "S" emblem across his chest. A flowing black cape trailed behind him, and high-tech gauntlets gleamed under the flickering light. His pale, freckled face wore an ever-present smug grin, and he stood like the room already belonged to him.
Megamind narrowed his eyes. "…Hmmm. What do we have here?" He folded his hands behind his back. "Care to tell me why you're here… Syndrome?"