the passenger side. "Do you know how to drive a truck?" he asked Ty as he buckled his seatbelt.
"No, but I didn't think you did," Ty replied in astonishment. It seemed every time he spoke to Dean, he discovered something crazy about him.
"Of course I do," Dean said, starting the engine. "My dad's a truck driver."
"I thought he was a villa-" Ty quickly clamped his hands over his mouth to stop the words spilling out.
"A villain?" Dean finished as he concentrated on getting the truck back on the freeway. "I've heard that one before."
Half of Ty's brain told him to shut up, and stay quiet. The other half told him to talk. He couldn't remember the last time he listened to the first half. He decided to pipe up.
"Why are there so many rumours about you?" Ty asked, realizing he sounded like Caleb. His little brother would have asked that very same thing, in like manner, had he been there.
Maybe it was because he was all alone that he suddenly felt he had to take over the roles his brothers would have filled.
Dean shrugged, eyes focussed on the road. "Every kid is the new kid at some stage. The reputation you're given then is a reputation that can either follow you or fade into insignificance. Mine started with one rumour, one little white lie, that spread like wildfire. I never argued with it because, when I tried, it only made things worse. I let people think I'm some kind of bruiser because they leave me alone that way. No one bothers with me and I guess that's how I like it now. Most schools have a legendary bully no one crosses paths with because they're terrified they'll lose their dignity, an arm, or their life. People think that's me."
Ty sat back in his seat, feeling small and ashamed after what his newfound ally told him. He, too, had been scared to death of Dean only minutes before. His impression of him changed because he saved his life but, before that, he believed every rumour, every lie, and every false story kids he passed for a moment in the corridors of Hero High told him. Now he felt like a tiny bug, even though he was his regular size.
Well, it was time to right the wrongs, as Jack would say.
"Hey, my team could use an animal-communicator," Ty said. "We have a vacancy. You interested in helping us out this Saturday?"
Dean thought about it and glanced, sideways, at Ty. He smiled. "Sure, why not? I didn't have anything else planned this weekend, anyway. The squirrels bailed on me."
25
Jack, Bella, Caleb and Ethan had retreated to the motel not long after the chase began.
Jack would have kept going, but after Ethan and Caleb fell off the truck, he knew he had to get them to safety first.
His first priority was his team, his friends.
Ethan and Caleb's injuries were not serious, thankfully. Ethan had bruises and cuts from his fall on the road and dramatic roll into dry shrubbery. Caleb, bouncy as ever, had lost his balance on the truck and ricocheted off the road, joining his brother in the shrubbery, and didn't walk away with anything more sinister than a bruised forearm.
But the boys looked so dirty, and Ethan was limping, making it look like they had been injured far worse.
(As it turned out, Ethan was only limping from a rather painful stone that lodged inside his sneaker when he rolled off the road.)
Frankly, everything got so hectic and busy as soon as they entered the motel, what with Alison and Bella fussing around the bruised and battered boys, and Rosie and Jack receiving orders left right and centre, Jack didn't actually notice Ty wasn't there.
It was only when his friend walked through the door, the notorious Dean Lightbody trailing behind him, at about eight o' clock, that Jack realized one of his teammates had been missing.
Alison pointed to the quiet, broad-shouldered teenager. "Who's that?" she asked.
"Dean Lightbody," Ty replied, as if Dean was an old friend.
"The kid you said wanted to use your bones as toothpicks?" Rosie questioned.
Jack clamped a hand over his little sister's mouth. "Ignore her," he said to Dean. "She had soda and it's getting to her bedtime."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dean," Alison said, hospitably. "Would you like something to drink? I don't think I have any poison in the motel room but..."
Bella joined the welcoming party, stopping short when she noticed the new guy. She crossed her arms and looked Dean up and down, examining the rumoured villain ponderingly. "So this is the kid whose kill-list you managed to top?" she asked Ty, disbelievingly. She shrugged and smiled, lopsidedly. "I don't know, he looks kinda nice."
"Turns out, Dean isn't a scary, poison-drinking, metal-bar bending bone-cruncher!" Ty declared, cheerfully.
Dean rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long night...
Ty explained the dramatic chase; the encounter with the three superpowered, teenaged thugs; and his amazing, incredible victory!
Dean slipped his words in at brief intervals, just to make sure Ty's brothers and friends got the right idea of how things actually happened.
The account reached the part where Dean saved Ty's sorry backside, and Dean respectively took over the explanation from there.
Jack listened, closely, to every word, every phrase, every detail Dean and Ty related, but his ears pricked up when Dean repeated Lance's words.
"What are they planning for tomorrow?" Jack mused.
Bella frowned. "It doesn't sound good, whatever it is," she said. "And so many of them? I mean, I knew there were going to be incognito villains in the school, but the way Lance says it, it sounds like there are more than we thought."
Jack nodded and ran his hands through his hair as he sighed, heavily. The plot was thickening. "We don't know who we can trust, we don't know how many students are real heroes, we're on our own and we have to protect the global director," he said, feeling the weight of the situation weighing on his shoulders. He held his hands up, palms skywards. "Okay, team, what's the plan?"
"Come on, Rosie," Alison said, herding her young daughter out the door. "Let's go to the other room. Something tells me they're going to be pulling another all-nighter."
"Goodnight!" Rosie cheered as she left.
"Try and get some sleep," Alison said before she closed the door.
Jack nodded, smiling. "Sure thing, Mom."
The rest of the night was spent plotting, planning and scheming.
Time was running out, fast. The clock was ticking, the race had begun and if the teenagers didn't get into gear soon, it would be game over.
They had little support, too. It was just the six of them, going it alone, without the support of teachers (most of whom they still could not trust). They had to assume none of the students were on their side, either.
Even Rust had left them cold.
At a point when everyone else was talking and his voice would only add to the noise, Jack took the time to ponder that.
When he was little, his father would tell him stories of the amazing, unstoppable, ultimate team: G-4 and their leader, Rust. Though the stories always ended with the harsh reality that the team somehow turned vicious and destroyed the city they saved, Jack still viewed Rust Swift as a legendary hero.
Seeing his hero in person, alive and called in specifically to train him and his friends, fulfilled most of Jack's childhood dreams.
And, then, he wanted nothing to do with them. Rust tried to shirk all responsibility, all duty, and just forget the kids even existed. Jack couldn't guess what he was doing on those days when he didn't show up for training, but he couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't tried to run away.
Then he got serious. He tried to push the kids past their limits, to the point they broke down and gave up, so he could go back to pretending nothing mattered.
At that point, Jack felt resentment. You're often told you should never meet your heroes because it will just be a disappointment to see they're not what you thought they'd be. Jack wouldn't be surprised if this Rust was an imposter.
Then he came back and started taking things seriously, but stopped pushing Jack and his friends
to the point they felt like collapsing. They started bonding. For a while, Jack actually saw Rust as the father he once had.
And, true to the pattern that was becoming more and more evident, things changed again when Rust dropped the bombshell: he was leaving.
Jack wanted to protest, but first wanted to hear the true story: the story no one had ever told him, the story no one knew, the story only Rust could tell him.
After that, Jack understood. Rust wanted to pretend it hadn't happened because it had left him so scarred.
Scarred wasn't the right word.
As Jack sat back in the plastic chair at the kitchen table surrounded by his friends, he wondered how long it would take those wounds to heal...
26
Far, far away, driving along an endless interstate, Rust found his thoughts drifting.
He was driving the battered white van Audrey and the bodyguards had stuffed him inside after they shot him with a tranquilizer dart that fateful night an entire month ago. He couldn't believe how long ago that was now.
After he spoke with Jack in the gym, he exited the school building, never stopping to look over his shoulder, never thinking for a moment about what he was leaving behind. He strode across the parking lot, hopped inside the van, started the engine and hadn't stopped since. He made only a few pit stops, for fuel and meals. He didn't pull over for sleep or rest because he didn't need it: he was the legendary Rust Swift, after all.
He laughed, scornfully, at himself.
"Some legend you are," he said, sounding like a lunatic talking to himself.
His eyes