Chapter 3: What Happened With Jordan

When Octavia got home, Jordan was waiting for her at the computer. "Yeah, I checked out the Daily Bugle archives. There is a supervillain called the Scorpion. Not exactly brainy, but his powers include superhuman strength and endurance. But we'll talk later. Right now, I want you to meet someone." A handsome, slender boy with long blonde hair stepped into the guest room.

"You told me how that thing with David Rose fell through, but he was too old for you, anyway. Octavia Jones, this is my twin brother, Morgan. Morgan Nicholas, this is my best friend Octavia." Jordan turned to Octavia. "He's on visitation for a few days. Mom and Dad's divorce was a little less than amicable. Dad got sole custody of me, but I have to visit Mom sometimes. Mom has sole custody of my twin brother."

"You guys are twins?" Octavia asked.

"Sure—fraternal twins. A dizygotic twin is the fancy technical term."

"I can see you're not identical—monozygotic."

"My pal Octavia is a science genius," Jordan told her brother.

"Isn't Morgan a girl's name?" Octavia stifled a snicker.

"Hey man, don't make fun of my name," Morgan groaned.

"For two generations of Breedloves," Jordan explained, "boys have been named after their mothers' favorite actors. There's my uncle, James Dean Breedlove, my brother, Morgan Freeman Nicholas—"

"And most assuredly Jordan will continue the proud tradition with her future son, Alfred—"

"Shut up!" Jordan playfully punched Morgan in the arm.

"Has Dad added to his blog lately?" Morgan asked. "Mom never lets me on there." He pushed his way to the computer and typed in the URL. "I mean, just because he's a conspiracy buff with his weird pet theories—"

"What are his pet theories, Jordan?" Octavia asked.

"Oh, just the usual—that the Illuminati are running the world, that the FBI killed Marilyn Monroe because she was preggers with John Kennedy's kid, that Jesus had a wife and kids and the Vatican's covering it all up, that the Illuminati orchestrated September 11th as an excuse to invade the Middle East…"

"And his newest pet theory—that the Illuminati are building a set of cloned super soldiers to take over the world," completed Morgan, scrolling with the mouse. "He even said he knows one and talked with her—"

Octavia shot Jordan a look that clearly said: Jordan, do something, fast!

"Uh, I'm afraid that Dad's finally gone off the deep end there," Jordan said quickly. "Do you know any cloned super soldiers, Ock?"

"Nope, of course not," she said.

"Neither do I," said Jordan. "Maybe Mom banned you from Dad's website for a reason."

Morgan peered out the window. "Whoa, there's my mom's car. I gotta go. Nice meeting you, Octavia."

Jordan was panting. "God damn, that was close. I need to tell my dad to quit writing about you on his blog. Dad!"

Anthony Nicholas was typing away on his laptop. "Yes, honey?"

"Are you writing about Octavia on your Conspiracy Watchdog Blog?"

Anthony looked defensive. "Yeah, but I never mention her name or that of her template. I think the public is entitled to the truth—"

"Sure it's the truth, but you're putting Octavia in danger and everyone else thinks you're a crackpot!"

"I only put it in the most general terms. Besides, if everyone thinks I'm a crackpot, the Illuminati won't see me as a threat to their master plan. Oh look, I have mail! Let me get a sandwich first."

Jordan peered at the screen. The webpage was entitled "Do Supersoldier Clones Walk Among Us?"

"My dear God," Jordan mumbled. "He's got a whole list on how to tell if your friend is a super soldier."

Octavia read off the list of characteristics. "'Number One: A super soldier clone (SSC for short), by definition, is inhumanly strong, fast, and healthy. If your friend is a superstar athlete and looks like a gym rat but sits on the couch and watches TV in his spare time, check the other items on the list.

'Number Two: An SSC may have robotic parts. He or she may insist on wearing trench coats even in warmer weather to hide them. Of course, the SSC wants to hide his or her powers, so they'll never let you see them without the coat.

'Number Three: An SSC's eyes are extraordinarily sensitive and sharp, which is why they might insist on wearing sunglasses. Also, sunglasses hide the nearly unnoticeable but telltale bionic enhancers.' Bionic enhancers?" Octavia laughed. "I don't have those in my eyes! I just wear shades because they look cool! And they're prescription. I'm nearsighted."

Jordan laughed too. "See, he's a crackpot even when he knows half the truth! Read some more. I need a good joke."

"'Number Four,'" Octavia continued, "'An SSC is extraordinarily intelligent. They have to be to hide their powers from others and strategize for the Illuminati's secret war. An SSC might be as smart as a nuclear physicist and never study.'" She paused. "Not mentioning my template, is he?

"'Number Five: Shuns comic books and superhero movies. An SSC may be cloned from a superhero or a supervillain; therefore, they are programmed not to go near comic books lest they start to notice the similarities. Remember, they don't even know their origins until they are activated for the secret war.'"

"Gee, and I thought you didn't want to get near comic books because you were just sick of hearing about me and—"

"That's why!"

"I was just being sarcastic," smiled Jordan. "Read off the next one."

"'Number Six: An SSC definitely has some kind of identifying mark on his or her right shoulder blade. This is so that the Illuminati can retrieve them for training.

"'Number Seven: An SSC is usually given up for adoption in infancy. The Illuminati want their clones to be raised in a stable family, which is very carefully picked. Watch out if your friend can't find information about his or her "birth parents" and his or her adopted family looks a bit too much like Beaver Cleaver's.

"'Number Eight: If your friend has most or all of these characteristics, and there are strange secret agent looking men following him or her around, your friend is definitely an SSC and definitely in danger of being captured to carry out the Master Plan! Protect your friend at all costs, because their origins aren't their fault! Then email me at—'"

Anthony came back with a ham sandwich. "See? I'm just telling the painfully obvious! Nothing that a science fiction fan couldn't come up with. Ah, where's my mail? Jordan, Octavia, could you cover your eyes with your hands while I put the password in?" He typed in a few keystrokes. "Okay, you can uncover your eyes now. Spam, spam, spam, spam, John Birch Society, save that, spam, spam, message board notification, and three questions!"

"What are they?"

Anthony was happy to see that his beloved daughter might finally be taking interest in his noble work. "Dear Watchdog: You wrote on your blog that the Yale Skull and Bones Society might be an outpost/training ground for the Illuminati. The President was a member of that and his father has mentioned making a New World Order before. Do you think he's an Illuminatus invading the Middle East for his own ends?"

Anthony dashed off a reply: "Oh yes! Most definitely!" Then he opened the next message.

"Dear Watchdog: Who are your sources for your recent posts about the SSC's?"

Jordan interrupted him. "Are you going to answer that!"

Anthony laughed. "I like to think I can tell the difference between a true believer and who an Illuminatus is. But I'd better be safe."

"Dear Reader: Like I said in the post, it's an SSC who has renounced the Master Plan and seeks to warn us of danger. Can't tell you more than that."

"Dear Watchdog: I think my ex-boyfriend is an SSC. I stumbled upon your blog while researching Marilyn Monroe and came upon your list. I was very interested because between you and me I'm starting to think Mack might not be one of us." Anthony rubbed his hands. "Ooh, tell me more, tell me more!" Octavia crowded even closer to the screen while Anthony continued to read.

"One, he was the star football player at my high school. He'd knock over players twice his size and he always skipped practice to watch Lost reruns and eat Cheetos. He also saved my life when we were walking across the street and a taxi nearly run me over and he stopped the car with his bare hands. I swear that taxi is still driving around with two big handprints on the bumper. Two, his adopted mom won't let him read Spider-Man comics and won't tell him anything about his birth mom. And she really does look just like June Cleaver. Three, he's got a little scorpion tattoo on his right shoulder and he doesn't know how he got it. Four, he had to move away cause his mom said that creepy guys were following him around and taking pictures. I really miss him and I'm afraid for him and I didn't know who to talk about it with. Could you help? I think he went to New York City so he might be near you. Sincerely, Melissa."

Octavia gasped. "Mack Jackson?"

Anthony looked at her. "Do you know this guy?"