SPIDER-MAN
Tangent was my nickname in third grade
IRON MAN
Are you saying you think I should shave?
BLACK WIDOW
Hydra is everywhere. But unless you’re 100% sure don’t worry about it. Hydra really isn’t something you should be taking on
SQUIRREL GIRL
Ok
IRON MAN
Real talk. Hydra is about 3 things. World domination, unsavory memes, and group texting.
SQUIRREL GIRL
Cool! Thanks
SPIDER-MAN
I thought Hydra was about neo-fascism, government infiltration, and global criminal operations
IRON MAN
Those are sub-categories to the other three
BLACK WIDOW
Now smashing my avengers communicator. I will be offgrid until I return to HQ
SPIDER-MAN
You still have a personal phone tho right? For emergencies?
IRON MAN
What’s the number, B-dubs?
Widow?
SPIDER-MAN
Dude I think she smashed it for real
IRON MAN
Yeah, she totally smashed it. But back to our conversation, Squirrel Girl. I’m not self-conscious about my looks at all, I’m probably the most humble guy you know. I’m just curious if you were serious about the facial hair?
SQUIRREL GIRL
Wow you were all sooo helpful but I gotta go!
SQUIRREL GIRL
Hi so hey! This is Squirrel Girl. Remember me? I texted you before for some villain advice?
WINTER SOLDIER
Winter Soldier is go
SQUIRREL GIRL
Yeah about that no need! To go anywhere actually! I just had a question
WINTER SOLDIER
Winter Soldier is go
SQUIRREL GIRL
Got it. So don’t freak out but my question is about Hydra
WINTER SOLDIER
I am familiar with Hydra
SQUIRREL GIRL
Yeah that’s what Thor said! I just want some nonviolent advice k? Would hydra ever do something weird like open a shopping mall in a suburb
WINTER SOLDIER
In 1946 Hydra infiltrated a small town in Lithuania at night and took the human babies out of their cribs, replacing them with baby goats
SQUIRREL GIRL
What happened to the human babies?
WINTER SOLDIER
They were found in a chicken coop
SQUIRREL GIRL
What happened to the chickens
WINTER SOLDIER
Never ask about the chickens
SQUIRREL GIRL
Ok
WINTER SOLDIER
In 1952 Hydra took over a radio station in Duluth and played the song “I’ve Got a Gal in Kalamazoo” for seventy hours straight
SQUIRREL GIRL
I know that song!
WINTER SOLDIER
Several people in town went mad
SQUIRREL GIRL
I’m totally humming it right now
WINTER SOLDIER
In 1978 Hydra opened an ice cream stand in Long Island just so they could serve disturbing flavors to the public
SQUIRREL GIRL
Disturbing flavors?
WINTER SOLDIER
Motor oil. Bile of convicted murderer. Lizard tears. Strawberry banana.
SQUIRREL GIRL
Hydra doesn’t sound that bad really
WINTER SOLDIER
They believed if they could get people to accept unacceptable flavors, they could get people to accept unacceptable government
SQUIRREL GIRL
Were they successful?
WINTER SOLDIER
Often. They have toppled governments, murdered millions, and ruined the second seasons of previously promising sitcoms
SQUIRREL GIRL
They’ve murdered millions of people???
WINTER SOLDIER
Well probably but I meant millions of bees. During their Cleanse the Air Initiative. Honeybees are vital for a thriving agrarian society. Do not neglect to take a tablespoon of raw honey daily for the health of your lymph nodes
SQUIRREL GIRL
That song is stuck in my head
WINTER SOLDIER
Now more than ever you need a tablespoon of raw honey
SQUIRREL GIRL
You know what winter soldier? I’m really proud of you! You haven’t freaked out at all about hydra and gave me top notch advice. Good job buddy!
WINTER SOLDIER
Thank you. Also I am tracing your phone. As soon as I find your location I’ll be there to wipe out any suspected Hydra agents within a two-mile radius in a quick and lethal manner, scourging the very earth for any trace of their passage. I will try not to harm bystanders but can’t make promises
SQUIRREL GIRL
K powering down my phone now bye!31
IRON MAN
Hey Squirrel Girl you never really said if you were serious about my facial hair seeming to be a way to hide deep-seated insecurities. Because I don’t have any btw. Deep-seated insecurities. I’m fine.
That sounded plaintive. Tone can be difficult to read in texts. But I just wanted you to know that I’m serious. Seriously fine. And I like my facial hair and am not needing any outside confirmation of my choices in order to feel good about myself.
Squirrel Girl? Are you there?
I perched on the shattered stump of a once-mighty oak, the claws of my hind paws flexing against the too-smooth surface. Trees fell, acorns rotted. These were facts of life. But when trees were shaved from the earth by machines, they were left like that stump. Unnaturally smooth.
The humans had cut several trees down to make room for this “mall.” It wasn’t like there was a true forest here, but Nip Snigglebum and Poppin Pufflegs both lost nests.
The sun had begun to fall, and I watched the human workers pack up their tools, climb into their wheeled metal boxes, and roll home. Humans build machines to cool them off in the day and hide inside buildings to escape the glare of the sun. They even cover their eyes with darkened glass to go outside. Why not just work at night? I was going to have to ask Doreen about this.
A tangy scent of sage wafted on the air, and I knew I was about to be joined by Fuzz Fountain Cortez on this unnerving stump.
“Got another harvest of furless coming,” said Cortez, scampering up beside me.
Sure enough, as soon as the last truck of mall builders left, new cars full of humans arrived. The vehicles that left were all different sorts, sizes, and colors, but those that arrived were all midsize gray cars.
It appears some humans did work at night.
Just like the cars, the humans that got out of them looked the same to me. Pale, male, light brown fuzz on their heads. To be honest, unless I could smell them, I had a hard time distinguishing between humans, especially the pale male ones. It irritated me to think that if Thor put on a blue onesie with a star on it, he was Captain America for all I knew. If Hawkeye didn’t have his bow, Thor his hammer, and Cap his shield—same guy. I wondered if that was why they had accessories—so squirrels could tell them apart.
Big Sissy Hotlegs leaped onto the stump, towering over both me and Cortez.
“You tell tail from tooth, Tip?” she asked. She wondered if I could tell the difference between the humans.
“Nope,” I said.
The three of us headed to the ground, where Chomp Style was sharpening his teeth on a piece of gravel.
“Ma’am,” he said to me, nodding.
Our ears twitched at the sound of paw beats on cement. We knew who it was, and that there was nothing to fear, but the instinct to flee from dogs was tough to suppress.
Speedo Strutfuzz galloped up on his terrier mount, Sir Woof. His task was to scout the area for guards.
“Dogless,” he said. “No humans, even. Not outside.”
I nodded. Getting intel on this nest was going to take mor
e than a stakeout. It was going to take a break-in. After overhearing Doreen and Ana Sofía talk about this monstrosity of a human habitat, I needed to know exactly what we were dealing with. This was squirrel turf. This was our scamperland, even if it had been paved over. If evil lurked here, I would know. And I would take care of it. I’m Tippy-Toe, and that’s what I do.
And that was why I assembled this group. A break-in of this magnitude required a specialized strike force.
SQUIRREL TEAM SIX
Tippy-Toe
Aliases: Tip, T-Toe, Missus T, The Right Paw of Justice
Rank: Captain
Bipedal Height: 1´0˝
Identifying Features: Pink bow, clever eyes
Special Skills: Genius-level squirrel intellect, languages, paw-to-claw combat
Fuzz Fountain Cortez
Aliases: Bibi Peluchita Furbi Cortez, Furbullet
Rank: Lieutenant
Bipedal Height: 0´10˝
Identifying Features: Patched black-and-brown natural camouflage
Special Skills: High-speed pursuit, leaping, tracking
Chomp Style
Aliases: Charles Monroe Styles, The Mouth
Rank: Corporal
Bipedal Height: 0´8˝
Identifying Features: Overlarge front teeth, muscular head, short tail
Special Skills: Demolition, infiltration
Speedo Strutfuzz
Aliases: Strutto Speedfuzz, The Centaur
Rank: Sergeant
Bipedal Height: 0´9˝
Identifying Features: Extra-long whiskers, missing third claw on left paw
Special Skills: Recon, communication, cavalry
Big Sissy Hotlegs
Aliases: Big Sis, M. Squee Cisneros, Rabbitsbane
Rank: Sergeant
Bipedal Height: 1´5˝
Identifying Features: Red-furred paws and legs, large size, muscular tail, burn scars on haunches
Special Skills: Paw-to-claw combat, demolition, heavy weapons
Chive Alpha—
“Hold up,” I said, looking all around. “Where’s Chive Alpha?”
Cortez leaned in. “She shed that name again.”
I twitched my tail in frustration. Recently a squirrel named Sour Cream and her children were abducted and nearly roasted alive by a dastardly human villain. Sour Cream’s children had collectively been known as “the Chives,” but after that ordeal, one of them adopted the moniker Chive Alpha. That didn’t last. Every couple of days she changed her name to something else. Currently she was…um, which one was it now? Mudbomb, maybe.
“Hello?” I said. “Um…Mudbomb?”
“…It can destroy the world…” she whispered from somewhere nearby.
“Mudbomb—”
“…It can destroy the world,” the whisper came again.
“What can destroy the world?” I asked.
“MUDBOMB can!” she cried, leaping from beneath the dirt at our feet. At some point she had managed to burrow under the earth and remain there without any of us noticing.
That was why I wanted her on Squirrel Team Six.
Chive Alpha MUDBOMB
Aliases: The Chive, Hiss the Manslayer, Skyfang the Indomitable, Night Weasel, Damocles the Fallen, Doom Claw, Scar Saw, The Terror that Scampers, Tooth Lotus, Stig the Stygian Rat
Rank: Private
Bipedal Height: 0´6˝
Identifying Features: Small size, red-black eyes
Special Skills: Infiltration, camouflage, berserker rage
“Sweet skulk, Mudbomb,” I said.
She squinched up her nose. “Yeah, maybe I’ve seasoned out of Mudbomb.”
I put a paw on her shoulder and led her away for a chitter session. “Little cousin, the team needs a name to call you. One name. How about you scamp to Chive Alpha till you’ve set a claw on your exact forever name?”
She chewed a dirt clod off her fur, then nodded. I patted her head.
“Speedo,” I said. “You know the plan. Eyes and ears sharp. One bark danger to us, two barks danger to you.”
Speedo Strutfuzz saluted, grabbing hold of his mount’s neck fur. “Hi-ho, Sir Woof!” he shouted. “Away!”
“Speedo short a few nuts?” Chive Alpha asked as the dog and squirrel galloped away.
“Nope,” I said. “Just a squirrel with big dreams. Now let’s scamper.”
We eyed the cameras and moved in their periphery—slinking under the cars, darting between their gazes, then squeezing tight against the building. Usually a squirrel didn’t need to bother. But five squirrels running in formation to a single destination might catch the humans’ attention.
We sidled up along the wall of the mall, stopping near the entrance the identical men used.
I twitched my tail at the two cameras mounted above the door.
“How’s your mother, Cortez?” I asked.
“Trunk-strong and fluffy,” Fuzz Fountain Cortez said. “The haunch fungus is under control now.” She tapped various locations on the outer wall of the mall and then scratched a small x on one of the spots.
“I had the fungus once,” Chomp Style said, ambling up to the spot Cortez marked. “Terrible thing. Rotted fungus itched more than an ant party in your nethers.”
Chomp Style opened his mouth wide and took a head-size bite out of the mall’s concrete wall.
“How’d you spook it out?” Cortez asked.
Chomp Style spat out a piece of wall. “Ham,” he said.
“Ham?” Big Sissy Hotlegs asked. “You ate ham?”
“’Course not,” he said, coughing out rock dust. “Can’t stand animal flesh. ’Cept for beetles, but that ain’t really the same.”
Chomp Style bit again and again till he could scamper into the new hole in the wall. Then he gnawed more, steady this time, like a machine, till he had broken through to the other side. It was a tight head-first squeeze for Big Sis, but Mudbomb—I mean, Chive Alpha—tumbled through no problem.
The inside of the mall was enormous—as big as a park, only no trees and no grass. And no sky. No windows even. It was a big blind cage. I shook my head at the thought that humans chose to dwell in cages.
“So do you rub the ham on your fur?” I asked as we fanned out, sniffing.
“Gross,” Chive Alpha whispered.
“No, ma’am,” Chomp Style said, brushing dust from his whiskers. “Not exactly, anyway. The hamslime is skin-medicine, not fur-medicine. You gotta treat new fur as it grows, so the old fur’s gotta go.”
“You shaved your butt,” Chive Alpha said.
“Yes, missy, yes, I did.”
Fuzz Fountain Cortez’s tail rose in a way that meant I found something interesting, so we focused our sniffing in her direction.
“Not easy work, fur-shaving,” Big Sissy Hotlegs said, moving to a guarded posture behind Cortez, eyes on the shadows. “Rougher still in the rear.”
“Wasn’t no scamper in the field,” Chomp Style said. “Though to chitter true, it was more of a ‘scraping’ than a shaving.”
“GROSS,” Chive Alpha said again, scampering up the wall to a single camera mounted high above. “Tell me more.”
The camera began to turn toward where Cortez was investigating. I didn’t want the wire chewed through, because that would have sent someone to come fix it. But I also didn’t want four squirrels on camera. When Chive Alpha reached the camera and opened her mouth, I hissed at her. She tilted her head, looked at me innocently, and pulled a pebble out of her cheek. She stuffed the thing into the hinge of the camera. Its movement halted with a low buzz, and then it turned to scan in the opposite direction.
I gave her a claws-up. She twitched her tail in a shrug.
Cortez took off and we followed. Chive Alpha stayed on the walls, scampering spider-style beside us.
“No way my ma would try Chomp’s ham plan,” Cortez said, her nose to the floor. “Her cousin was hobbled by meat.”
“Straight chitter?” Big Sissy Hotlegs asked from her guard position at
the rear.
“Straight as roads and houses,” Cortez said. “My nest used to do rounds by a deli where one of the bigger kid-humans flung meat at us.”
“Donations?” I asked.
“Target practice,” she said. “Kid would acorn-up handfuls and throw them at squirrels and birds.”
“Humans are weird,” Chive Alpha muttered from her spot on the wall.
Cortez stopped in front of one of the stores, sniffed once, and nodded.
“We didn’t bother dodging,” Cortez said. “The kid had aim like a mole, and, hey, free meat.”
The store was dark inside, a pull-down metal grate protecting it. From other humans, anyway. The spaces between the bars were wider than Big Sissy’s skull. Chive Alpha dangled by her rear paws from one of the bars, pulled another pebble from her mouth, and tossed it inside. We listened—tails twitchless, eyes blinkless. No sound returned. So we scampered inside.
“Long story short,” Cortez said, “one meat chunk was really a ham bone, and it struck Cousin Jig right on the tail. His balance was never the same after that.”
Racks of strange human garments made a labyrinth within the store. Our claws tik-tikked against the floor. A whiff confirmed the floorboards weren’t wood but plastic molded to look it. A second sniff brought in another scent—a burning, warning sort of odor, the like I’d never smelled before, not in a human dwelling and not in the wild. Firelike, but not truly fire. Strange.
Cortez sniffed her way to a door against the back wall. Chomp Style looked at me and twitched a whisker in question.
I gave him a “hold on” whisker back as Big Sissy Hotlegs shoved the door with her shoulder. It swung open, and we all darted away just in case there was something behind it ready to pounce. There wasn’t. In fact, all that was behind it was an empty closet with a large circle of metal in the floor.
“Trail of human smell stops there,” Cortez said, pointing her nose at the disc.
“A door, then,” I said.