“Oh, did that sting?”
“I’m fine,” Flinch gasped.
“You’ve forgotten that I’m allergic to liars,” she said, before launching another attack. She connected with his ribs nearly six times before he backed up, hugging his arms to himself and feeling his body’s agony. “You look worried, shaky. I don’t need any superpowers to see that. I suspect one or two more punches might break one of those ribs.”
Flinch was sure she was right, but he could do nothing to stop her. Everything he tried she could see a mile away.
But then it dawned on him. What if he were unpredictable? What if even he wasn’t sure what he might do?
He turned the knob on his harness all the way to its lowest setting, stopping it from regulating the sugar in his body. At Level Zero he was all hyper and all power without any of the pesky control. She may have called him a freak, but she hadn’t seen anything yet.
The next few minutes were a blur to Flinch. He knew there was a lot of jumping and running and bouncing and tossing. His voice may have sounded like a cartoon duck’s. He also remembered the look of dread on Pufferfish’s face when he raced around her like a hyperactive hurricane.
“What are you doing?” she cried over the wind he stirred up.
“I don’t have the faintest idea!” he shouted, zipping around and around her at top speed. The mini-twister lifted the poor girl off the ground, blinded her eyes with trash and dirt, and sucked all the oxygen from her lungs. A moment later she was unconscious. He eased his speed and caught her falling body, then held his ear to her chest. She was breathing.
He pinched his nose. “Boss, they’re all sick,” he said.
“I know, Flinch,” Agent Brand said. “Bring them home.”
The Antagonist was convinced that his first date with his new girlfriend was ruined. First, he burned dinner. Second, he forgot to get flowers. Third, he was attacked by ninjas who fought so hard and long that the pint of ice cream he had brought home for dessert melted in the bag.
But Miss Information didn’t seem to mind. All she wanted to do was cuddle on the couch and watch television. The news was filled with fires, chaos, and mass destruction—all caused by the villain virus. The Antagonist was pretty sure he had met his soul mate. They munched on popcorn and witnessed the sorrow of others, relishing the horrors that threatened every block.
“Look, sweetie pie, there’s a mall in Minneapolis encased in a block of ice,” Miss Information said. “Your plan is working perfectly.”
The Antagonist grinned. “Of course it is. I’m a genius.”
“My honey bun is so diabolical.”
He blushed beneath his mask.
“I have some good news for you,” she continued. “The NERDS are incapacitated.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“Honey, I’m not just a pretty face hidden behind a mask with a skull painted on it,” she said. “I know everything.”
“So they are no longer a threat,” he said proudly. “I accomplished something that my boss never could. I knew he should have put me in charge.”
“And now the next part of your plan can begin,” she said.
“Yes,” he said quietly. What was the next part of the plan again?
“Invading their headquarters!”
“Oh, yes, invading the headquarters! We need to do that right away.”
“Imagine the amount of technology you will have access to then,” Miss Information said. “I’ll be—I mean, you will be unstoppable.”
The Antagonist grinned. How lucky this woman was to have a boyfriend as smart as him. Of course, he had no idea where the headquarters was, but he was sure that his brilliant mind would figure it out at any moment. He recalled invading their old headquarters in the depths of an elementary school, but he knew that space had been abandoned. Where could they have gone? His subconscious was probably putting together the details he had unknowingly already collected and would reveal it to him soon.
“They’re at the middle school,” Miss Information told him.
“Like I suspected,” he cried, even though he hadn’t suspected it. But that was just a tiny detail now. “Sometimes, my flower, I think you are as diabolically intelligent as I am.”
“You’re sweet,” she said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Now you can crush once and for all the last obstacle between you and world domination. Apparently, there’s only one active agent left and just a handful of adults in supporting roles, and most of them are scientists so they probably have the combined strength of a baby bunny. The director walks with a cane, and there’s a librarian, but what is she going to do? Throw a book at us?”
“The pilot, the one that wears a smock—we have to worry about him,” he said.
“It’s just a matter of time before he’s sick, too, darling,” she purred. “Soon, they will all be overcome with evil and your empire will be unstoppable.”
The Antagonist smiled beneath his mask. The sound of having an unstoppable evil empire and being at the height of his career sounded awfully good. But wait: Wasn’t there something he was supposed to be worried about when he became the most powerful villain in the world? Wasn’t it something she had said to him?
Just then the doorbell rang.
“That must be the Chinese food,” Miss Information said. “I hope they put in extra packets of duck sauce.”
“If they didn’t, I will strap the delivery boy to a rocket and shoot it into space,” he said.
“Darling, you make me feel like a princess,” Miss Information said.
The Antagonist opened the door. There he found a young man holding a sack of food.
“Did you order the chicken lo mein?” the deliveryman asked.
The Antagonist nodded and took the sack. He opened it and took a peek.
“Honey, I’ve got bad news—no duck sauce,” he said.
Miss Information growled. “I’ll go fuel up the rocket.”
The Playground was in disarray. Only fifteen scientists remained from the fifty who had been well that morning. The survivors looked exhausted. Brand guessed they were working around the clock. They were still experimenting on Heathcliff’s nanobytes, and tables had been moved aside to make space for the various ray guns and doomsday devices the team had seized from the villains.
The lunch lady had returned to the Playground in a pair of his own handcuffs. “I feel the fever, boss,” he admitted. “I knew if I waited, I would cause you trouble. Put me in a cell and keep working.”
With his team and the entire world falling apart, Brand could do nothing but stand on the catwalk above Heathcliff’s head and look down at the source of all the world’s misery. He and the sleeping head were all alone. The remaining staff were busy working on a cure. All of the systems that kept the boy unconscious were running automatically, but soon they would run out of sedatives. When the boy woke up … well, things were going to get much, much worse. Brand wondered if General Savage was right. Should they have tried to remove the transmitter from Heathcliff’s brain? Was it right to let the world go down the drain for one person? No, that was a decision he was still not prepared to make. He shoved the thought aside.
Benjamin zipped into the room. “Sir, may I be of some assistance?”
Brand sighed. “Not unless you can save the world.”
“I’m afraid I’m only a superintelligent, flying computer, sir. Not a miracle worker,” Benjamin said. He paused, then continued, “I’ve received word from the school’s administrative office about Julio. Apparently, Agent Flinch is being expelled.”
Twenty minutes later, Agent Brand met Flinch in the hallway outside of Principal Dove’s office. He seemed more agitated than usual.
“So this is really happening?” Flinch said. “I’m not having some sort of mental breakdown? I’m a secret agent and have superpowers, and they’re tossing me out of school!”
“Flinch, please relax,” Brand said.
“Relax?” he cried. “How am I s
upposed to relax?”
Brand turned the knob on Flinch’s harness, which seemed to calm the boy. “I assure you that you are not going to be expelled,” he said, pinching his nose for the com-link. “Ms. Holiday, this is my fifth attempt to reach you. I need your assistance with the principal.”
Ms. Holiday hadn’t replied to any of his calls. He worried she was sick, but with a limited staff it was also possible that the com-link was down and there was no one to repair it. He hoped it was just a glitch. He didn’t want to think about what he would have to do if she got the virus. What if she attacked him? How could he fight someone he cared so much about?
“We’re going to deal with this,” Brand said as he led the boy to Principal Dove’s office. He knocked and was invited to enter.
Ms. Dove sat behind her desk. Her big, bulky body and huge eyes reminded Brand of a barn owl. A hungry barn owl. He and Flinch probably looked like fat mice.
“What can I help you folks with today?” the principal asked with a beaming smile.
“We’ve come to speak to you about Flin—I mean, Julio,” Agent Brand said.
Ms. Dove sat back in her chair. “About his expulsion.”
Brand nodded.
“I expected his parents to want to discuss this, Mr. Brand. How unusual that the school’s janitor has come to his defense,” the principal said as she peered over her desk at him.
“Julio lives with his grandmother, and at the moment she is quite ill,” he replied. “I’ve known Julio for a long time. I worked at Nathan Hale Elementary before I came here. I’ve always found him to be an incredibly respectful and cheerful young man, so I’ve come to vouch for him.”
“Well, in my experience, children change, Mr. Brand,” the principal said. “The summer between fifth and sixth grade can transform a sweet and helpful little lovebird into a cranky old pelican.”
“I’ve seen that myself,” Brand said. “I’ve had to scrub this school from top to bottom every day because some of these formerly sweet children are tearing this place apart. But Julio is not one of them. In this case I think we have a little less pelican and more a situation of adjustment and growing pains. Sometimes a little birdie needs time to get used to his new nest. Isn’t that right, Ms. Dove?”
Ms. Dove nodded. “That’s true. But I’ve seen a lot of birdies, Mr. Brand. I’m pretty good at picking out the sweet ones from the bullies.”
“Bullies!” Flinch exclaimed.
“I hardly think Julio is a bully,” Brand said.
“Mr. Brand, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I know my birds. I would never presume to tell you about mops and cleaners,” Ms. Dove said with a smile. “I’m afraid my mind is made up. This is Mr. Escala’s last day here at Thomas Knowlton Middle School.”
“You must reconsider,” Brand said. “He’s a good boy.”
Ms. Dove shook her head. “I’ve already put in for a transfer for him, and he’s been accepted at Harris Middle School for Troubled Teens.”
“Harris Middle School!” Flinch shouted. “That’s a last-chance school.”
“A last-chance school?” Brand asked.
“Yeah, it’s the place they send kids who have been kicked out of every other school in town. It has a barbed wire fence and a guard tower. You don’t graduate from there—you get out for good behavior!”
“Mr. Escala, why waste everyone’s time when the inevitable is right in front of our faces? I think we all know how this story ends,” Ms. Dove said.
“Ms. Dove, may I be honest with you?” Brand asked.
Ms. Dove cocked a curious eyebrow. “Please.”
“I went to a boarding school when I was a child and I had a lot of teachers who liked to call themselves disciplinarians. Some of their passion came from a good place—you know, a real desire to help children. But some of it came from a bad place. Some of it was mean-spirited. Sometimes a teacher would single out a kid to make him an example for the others. I suppose they thought if they could make one kid’s life miserable, the others would fall in line and behave.”
“Are you suggesting I’m picking on Mr. Escala?” Ms. Dove said, her smile suddenly turning into a frown.
“Well, Ms. Dove, you may know birds, but I know people. I know a bully when I see one.”
“You have quite an imagination,” she grumbled. She reached into her desk and pulled out some forms and signed them quickly.
“There. That’s settled,” she told Flinch. “You are no longer a student at this school. I wish you the best with your future endeavors and please empty out your locker before you leave at the end of the day.”
“Julio, come along,” Mr. Brand said as he rose from his chair.
“But I’m a good kid!”
“Come along,” Brand said. “This woman is a fool. This isn’t over, but we’re through here today.”
Flinch followed him out the door and into the hallway.
“That wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for,” Flinch said. “Oh, man. I’m going to Harris! The school uniform is an orange jumpsuit with your number printed on the front!”
“Julio, I know this looks bleak, but I have considerable power with the government. I can fix this. If Ms. Dove cannot compromise, then I will have her transferred to another school. Why, I might even have her deported just to teach her a—”
Just then, the door to Ms. Dove’s office door exploded, sending wood and metal shrapnel in every direction. The blast knocked Brand and Flinch to the floor.
“What was that?” Flinch asked.
From the office emerged a figure dressed in an enormous white bird suit. It had legs as orange as a chicken’s and a plume of bright red feathers on its head. It was Ms. Dove, and she was wearing one of the most ridiculous costumes Brand had ever seen. He might have laughed if not for the murderous look on the woman’s face.
“Are you out here in this hallway plotting to take me down?” she cried. “Do you fools really believe that the likes of you could do it?”
“Ms. Dove, what on earth!” Brand said.
“Don’t call me that! From now on you will bow to your knees and address me as Colonel Cuckoo!” She shook her tail feathers and flapped her arms aggressively, sending a shower of loose feathers to the floor.
“Those who choose to challenge me will face my wrath!” she crowed, then scratched at the floor with her feet. She let out a vicious squawk and rolled a white egg across the room.
It stopped at Flinch’s feet. Flinch started to laugh at it, but then three little panels on the shell slid open and steam seeped into the air. The egg began to beep faster and faster. A bomb!
Brand grabbed Flinch and dragged him around the corner just as the egg exploded, sending chunks of the wall tumbling to the floor where they had stood.
“Flinch, we need to split up. Try to lure her out of the school,” Brand said. “Those egg bombs could hurt the rest of the students.”
“I’m on it, boss,” Flinch said, turning and running down the hallway.
Ms. Dove stalked close behind, flapping her wings and tossing egg bombs. Explosions rocked the school.
Brand hobbled into a bathroom and shut the door. He was about to call for Benjamin when he spotted four boys huddled in the corner with screwdrivers, removing the plumbing from the sinks and toilets.
They looked at him.
He looked at them.
And then he exploded. “It’s you!” he cried. “You’re the kids who are making my job impossible.”
“Busted,” the redhead said with a laugh.
“Now, before you get all bent out of shape,” the short one said. “We’re just expressing our artistic freedom.”
There was another explosion in the hallway and the light fixtures in the bathroom rattled.
“What was that?”
Brand ignored the boys and pinched his nose. “Benjamin, are you there?”
Benjamin’s voice was on the other end. “Yes, sir.”
“We’ve got a problem topside
. The principal is infected and is roaming the hallways in a chicken suit. She’s throwing egg bombs at everyone.”
One of the boys, who had an annoying whistle in his voice, shouted, “We’ve got to see this!”
“NO! Stay where you are!” Brand commanded, then turned his attention back to Benjamin. “We need to evacuate the students, but we need to make sure they aren’t running into the hallways when she’s out there.”
“Sensors indicate that Flinch has led her into the gymnasium,” Benjamin said. “This would seem to be the opportune time.”
“Do it,” Brand ordered.
A second later, the fire alarms blared and Brand could hear the children exiting their classes and heading for the emergency doors.
“Who are you talking to?” one of the kids asked. “Are you crazy? A lot of janitors are—I’m not judging.”
“Listen, you kids should go with the others,” Brand said, but the boys shook their heads.
“No way, man,” the red-haired one said. “This is the most exciting thing that has happened to us, like, ever. We’re staying!”
Brand groaned. “Who are you kids?”
The chubby one grinned. “We’re juvenile delinquents.”
Moments later, Flinch’s voice filled Brand’s head. “Hey, boss, she’s chasing me all over. I’ve got her in the library now, but she’s tossing explosives everywhere. She completely destroyed the nonfiction section. I don’t think anyone’s going to be doing a report on beluga whales this year.”
“Keep her busy, son,” Brand replied.
Ms. Holiday’s voice suddenly came online. “Alexander, what can I do to help?”
“Thank heavens you’re safe. I thought something had happened to you!”
“Alive and well, but it’s nice to know you were worried. Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to say anything like that on the com-link.”