Markus High

Chapter Nine

Markus's POV:

My dad and I finally found the address Zyta had quickly given us. It looked almost like a haunted old shack. There was an old, beat up truck in the driveway, one window completely held in with duct tape. We both looked up at the structure and gulped simultaneously.

"Well... Go get 'em," Dad said to me.

"What? You're the adult!" I countered.

"And you're the one with super powers!"

"I thought we were going to talk to him civilly!"

"In what superhero movie has that ever worked?" he asked.

I tried to think of one, searching my mind for an answer before finding one. "The Avengers. Tony talked to Loki for a while."

"And then used his Iron Man suit for a quick get away," my dad replied. I had to admit he had a point.

I ended up being the one to knock on the door, my dad standing behind me. The door opened slowly, revealing a man with an evil sneer.

"What do you want?" he asked in a gruff and menacing voice.

"To go get your daughter's stuff from her room," I replied, looking him in the eyes. "We'll be going up there whether you like it or not."

The man cackled at me. "No one has ever dare challenged me, especially not while looking my in the eye. My daughter means nothing to me. Go retrieve her things and rid me of the curse of her."

"Zyta is not a curse!" I growled, electricity shooting from my clenched fists. My dad tugged gently on the back of my shirt.

"Behave, Markus." He whispered in my ear. "He's letting us go without a fight. Let's just get her things and leave."

That only made me more irritated. There was something about being in the villain that infuriated me, but I nodded and let my dad step inside. I walked in after him, glaring at the old villain as we entered to house. He was just about to close the door when I growled, "Keep that open."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not on your life."

"Markus!" my dad shouted in surprise, but Zyta's dad cut him off.

"Let the boy speak his mind!" he hissed. "I know he hates me, and I would rather he continue to see the evil in me. After all," he said, grinning ear to ear, "That's what real villains do."

"I'm not a villain," I yelled, electricity shooting from my body. 

"No?" he cackled. "But you're not a hero either, young boy. So that bring up the question: What are you? Nothing?"

Before I could talk back my dad stepped forward, grabbing my hand. "Please just tell us where Zyta's room is. We'll be out of your hair as soon as possible."

The villain glared at my dad, but pointed down a hallway. "The room on the left. I am not responsible if you die from booby-traps. They were put there of her own accord."

He then walked out of the roof and down the stairs, no doubt where his 'secret' lair was.

As we made it Zyta's room, panting from dodging the anvil, flamethrowers, and ninja stars, I couldn't help but think about what Zyta's had had said.

"What are you? Nothing?" kept echoing in my head. He was right, you know. I hadn't proven myself a hero or a villain. I had just gained some electrifying powers, not really using them for good or evil in any way. 

In fact, I've been using them for more evil than good, I thought to myself. It wasn't a forced thought, it was truly my thought, no one else's.