by Greg James
‘I can hear something,’ said Billy suddenly.
‘Is it the panicked shouting?’ asked Mary acidly. ‘Or maybe your sensitive ears have picked up the explosions, the running feet and the cackling pig with the flame-thrower?’
‘No,’ said Billy, waving a hand in a downward motion and screwing his eyes up in concentration. ‘I can hear something else. I think … I think it might be something good.’
They all strained their ears. Gradually Murph realised he could make out a sound, layered over the tumult of the battle. A distant thrumming and clattering. His face lit up like a newly installed lighthouse. ‘Come on!’ he told the others. Breaking cover, they raced towards the long, wide road that led away from the palace between the two parks.
Above the trees, a series of black shapes had come into view, flying fast and low towards them. Nellie, who had the sharpest eyes, was already leaping about excitedly and waving her arms in the air before Murph was able to make out exactly what the shapes were. When he did, and his suspicions were confirmed, he immediately joined in, hooting and dancing around with pure delight.
A phalanx of black helicopters was approaching – forty of them at least – making only a quiet chatter through the still air. And leading them, emitting the loudest clatter of all, was a black car with twin helicopter blades mounted on either side of the cockpit. A speaker was slung under the bonnet which, as it grew closer, Murph could hear was blasting out ‘Ride of the Valkyries’. As it dipped low and came in to land, a beaming face was visible behind the windscreen, with a neat white beard above a carelessly knotted silk scarf.
‘It’s Gertie! Jasper’s here!’ yelled Hilda in delight, capering around as a ramp extended and a sleek silver wheelchair appeared at the top.
‘What ho, what ho, what ho!’ bellowed Sir Jasper Rowntree as he rolled towards them. ‘What have we here, then? Bally selfish, beating that Knox chappie all on your own, what? I hope you left some bottom-whooping for the rest of us!’
‘There’s plenty of whooping to go around, Jasper,’ grinned Mary, indicating the huge battle still raging behind them. ‘You’re feeling all right, then?’
Sir Jasper looked shamefaced. ‘Like a right economy-sized Charlie is how I’m currently feeling, young lady,’ he said to her. ‘But there’ll be time for apologies later. Mind control …’ He tutted. ‘Coward’s trick, that. Simply not cricket. Not even French cricket. ‘Anyway –’ he adjusted his monocle – ‘looks like I’m not the only one who had a sudden change of heart. Thanks, as usual, to you lot.’
‘The Rogues are going wild, though,’ Murph explained. ‘And it looks like they’re winning. The Cleaners and the army only just came out of mind control. They’re not that well organised.’
‘They aren’t, are they?’ mused Sir Jasper, peering at the scene before him. As he watched, a squad of frightened-looking soldiers ran towards them in panic. ‘Well,’ the old man continued, ‘I think these lads could benefit from some battle-hardened experience. Mal-COLM!’
‘Ber-ner-ner?’ Monkey Malcolm poked his head out of Gertie’s door.
‘Come on, old chap,’ said Sir Jasper. ‘We’ve got a war to fight. Yellow bendies all round for the winner!’
‘Ber-NOO-NOO!’ Malcolm lumbered down the ramp.
‘We’ll sort the Rogues out,’ said Sir Jasper to the Zeroes. ‘You handle Knox. All right?’
‘But he’s got a … giant twin!’ Murph yelled after him, but it was too late. Sir Jasper had already reached the fleeing soldiers and was shouting at them.
‘You men! Halt this instant! Remember your training! You’re coming with me. I’ll show you there’s nothing to be afraid of!’
The soldiers, shamed by this wheelchair-based harangue, organised themselves and jogged off after Jasper and Monkey Malcolm.
The black Alliance helicopters had now landed on the road behind Gertie and figures were pouring down the ramps – scores upon scores of them. A small delegation separated itself and jogged up to the Super Zeroes, led by Mr Souperman.
‘Cooper!’ he hailed him. ‘And your, ah, super gang. I gather it was you who broke the mind control!’
‘It was indeed, sir,’ grinned Murph.
‘Excellent and, indeed, ah, highly splendid work,’ Mr Souperman congratulated him. ‘As soon as the control was broken, the Cleaners guarding all the Heroes realised what was happening. So here we are. And here, in a very real sense, you are too.’
‘The army doesn’t know how to fight Rogues, Mr Souperman,’ said Mary quickly before the head could launch into one of his lengthy speeches. ‘You have to help them!’
‘Splendid!’ said Mr Souperman. ‘Heroes and non-Heroes fighting together. Who would ever have thought that could possibly work?’
‘Erm … us?’ said Murph, but the head teacher had already strode away, calling, ‘You boys! And indeed, girl! To me! We have a battle to fight!’ To his amazement, Murph saw Gangly Fuzz Face and his friends – the bullies who had tormented him in his first year at school, eagerly running up to join Mr Souperman.
‘Hope we do you proud, Coops!’ called Fuzz Face, giving him a thumbs up which Murph returned rather weakly. This was all getting a bit much.
‘Let’s smash those Rogues!’ added his friend Crazy Eyes Jemima, waggling her eyebrows and racing away.
Heroes were still pouring out of the helicopters, joining forces with the Cleaners and soldiers – helping them, pointing out known Rogue weaknesses, working together.
‘Right,’ Murph told the others. ‘Let’s keep an eye on the palace … make sure Knox and his mate don’t get away.’ Together, the Zeroes edged along the railings at the side of the darkened parkland to the right of the huge building.
But as they went, Mary’s attention was distracted by a flash of movement somewhere off in the park. Squinting, she could make out a furtive figure flitting from tree to tree. It was growing darker still, but she was sure she could make out the distinctive bobbed haircut of Kopy Kat. ‘Trying to make a getaway, eh?’ said Mary quietly to herself, then called out loud, ‘Murph, we’ll catch you up! Hilda, come with me!’ Grabbing her friend’s hand, she plunged into the trees. But the figure ahead must have heard them coming. She saw it turn its head sharply, and then plunge off the path into the undergrowth.
‘She’s getting away!’ Mary told Hilda. ‘Come on!’
They raced to where they’d last seen the shadowy figure, and began to pick their way through the bushes.
‘It’s no good,’ said Mary, ‘she could be anywhere. It’s not like we can sniff her out like bloodhounds or something.’
In reply, Hilda simply smiled. There was a tiny popping neigh, and all at once they were joined by two smaller shadows, cantering through the undergrowth. ‘Artax, Epona … Seek!’ Hilda told them. The tiny horses bent their heads to the earth, snuffling around like miniature white pigs on a truffle hunt. Then one of them caught a scent and began to gallop off through the shrubbery. ‘View halloo! Tantivy!’ shouted Hilda incomprehensibly, galumphing after them, with Mary following in her wake.
Back out in the open area in front of the palace, the battle was still raging. Military units had quickly swarmed to the scene, and were already linking up with members of the Heroes’ Alliance. Together they were mounting a desperate charge on the attacking Rogues. As Murph led Billy and Nellie carefully back towards the palace, he caught sight of several familiar faces in amongst the tumult.
At one point, he was startled by a loud cry of, ‘Get that filthy stuff away from me, ding-dong the derry-o!’ A grubby-looking man with a scraggly beard dashed past them, tripping over his sandals in the process.
‘The Druid!’ exclaimed Billy.
‘And look who’s chasing him,’ smiled Nellie quietly, pointing.
In hot pursuit of The Druid was their school chef, Bill Burton, brandishing a bunch of green herbs. ‘Coriander!’ he explained, giving Murph a wink. ‘That’ll learn ’em! Now come back here, you shower-dodging Rogue!’ He raced aw
ay.
Closer to the palace, the crowd was thicker and the fighting more intense. ‘Stay low and keep moving,’ Murph warned the others, but they had already been spotted.
‘It’s Kid Normal! Get him!’ barked a voice. The three Zeroes turned in horror to see The Sponge advancing on them, with Skeleton Bob and The Architect on either side.
‘Avast! Gar! Ouch!’ said the pirate. The first two words were fairly typical pirate language. The third was in response to the fact that a large metal dustbin lid had just hit him squarely on the head.
‘Cooper! Duck!’ came a voice from behind them. Murph obeyed the shouted instruction as the bin lid came swooping back over his head before looping elegantly round and slamming into The Architect, knocking her out cold. A figure jumped over Murph’s head and ran towards The Sponge, spinning a lasso above her head and neatly roping him and his two cohorts together.
‘Nice move, Debs!’ he called. Deborah Lamington turned and smiled.
‘Nice work yourself, taking out the mind control!’ she congratulated them. ‘I knew it was worth getting captured to spring you lot from Shivering Sands.’
‘Not that it was much fun in jail,’ said a second voice, and Debs’ crime-fighting partner Dirk appeared beside her. ‘Still, yeah … nice work,’ he told Murph. ‘Now go get Knox!’ His trademark mouth-trumpet fanfare lingered behind them as they dashed away.
Flora and Angel were pinned down at the edge of one of the parks in front of the palace. A group of Rogues was advancing on them across a wide clearing, forming a pincer movement to stop them escaping. Yellow Dog was away to their right-hand side, howling in triumph as he closed on the Heroes, with Kid Calf, Brine Elbows and Tiger Fingers blocking the left flank.
‘We can’t fight them all off, Mum!’ Angel was whispering tensely. ‘What are we going to do?’
Suddenly, there was a clattering in the sky. An old-fashioned helicopter dipped into the clearing and began spinning around, knocking their enemies flying like skittles. Angel squinted through the dust to try and make out the pilot. It seemed to be a man in full evening wear.
Abruptly, the Rogues broke and ran in panic from the careering ’copter, scattering into the trees.
‘That was a close call,’ sighed Angel. ‘Who on earth is that?’ The chopper had now landed, and the man was climbing down rather carefully from the cockpit.
‘I don’t believe it,’ muttered Flora as he limped towards them. Angel could now see that he was an old man, his grey hair artfully coiffed to leave a single curl dipping over one eye. And he was, as she had thought, clad in a smart black suit complete with bow tie.
‘Blue Phantom!’ hailed the man as he approached.
‘Well, well, Commander James,’ laughed Flora, rising from their hiding place to hug him, ‘I must say, I hadn’t been expecting you!’
‘James James, the world’s greatest former secret agent,’ the man introduced himself, turning to Angel with a slight bow and hoisting a grizzled eyebrow. ‘But please … do call me James.’
‘A little overdressed, aren’t you?’ smiled Angel.
‘We did things differently in my day,’ replied the spy, shooting his cuffs. ‘And I don’t recall getting an invitation saying “Confront the Rogues; dress smart casual”.’
‘So, you’ve come to help defeat the bad guys one more time?’ asked Flora, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Fully prepared to leave them both shaken and stirred,’ confirmed James James. ‘Shall we?’
‘Let’s round up some of those stragglers,’ suggested Flora. Together, they headed for the trees, the old man pulling a hip flask from his pocket as they went and taking a deep swig.
‘I only like to have one drink before a battle,’ he explained to Angel, ‘but I like that drink to be very well made, and very sweet, and very chocolatey.’
‘Ooh, chocolate milkshake!’ said Angel as they vanished into the undergrowth. ‘Give us a bit!’
Hilda and Mary followed the horses into a grove of trees. A circle of park benches surrounded a dusty, scrubby area of grass with green metal bins dotted here and there. The horses, noses pressed to the floor, galloped around it.
‘She must have got away,’ said Hilda sadly.
‘No, wait,’ said Mary. ‘Look!’
The horses were homing in on one of the rubbish bins. One of them pawed at it with a hoof.
‘She’s the bin!’ realised Mary. ‘She turned into me, I guess she can turn into anything. Oi! Kopy Kat! The game’s up! Come quietly and nobody needs to get hurt.’
The rubbish bin gave an evil chuckle. (Now there’s a sentence we never thought we’d be writing.) The rubbish bin gave an evil chuckle and began to shake from side to side. All at once it grew two legs, with a popping sound, and then its body melted and shifted until Kopy Kat was standing in front of them, still chuckling.
‘Very clever detective horses,’ she said scornfully. ‘Good evening to you, Mr Sherlock Horse. And to you, Mr Sherlock … Other Horse.’
‘That pun worked best the first time,’ Hilda informed her, dropping into her combat pose. But Mary was there ahead of her.
‘Leave her to me,’ she told her friend. ‘This mean old crone pretended to be me … she took my place in the Zeroes. I think it’s time I showed her what a real Hero can do.’
Kopy Kat widened her eyes, putting on a sarcastic little-girl voice. ‘Is that so, Miss Yellow Parrot Bird?’ she scoffed. ‘Then I think it’s right that we make this a fair fight, no?’ And she began to change again, melting like wax.
‘That is actually really gross to watch,’ said Hilda distastefully. ‘It’s like a really cheap special effect in a bad horror film … Oh!’ She stopped. Because suddenly there were two Marys standing in the centre of the clearing in front of her, looking daggers at each other.
‘Nobody steals my look!’ said the real Mary furiously, and charged at her doppelgänger.
Chips of wood flew outwards as Mega Knox smashed through the thick wooden doors at the front of the Presidential Palace. It marched across the courtyard towards the metal railings, bellowing in fury. Nicholas Knox trotted behind it like an overprotective father, talking to it all the while. ‘Yes, yes, excellent. Show no fear. You must make everyone else afraid of you!’
‘Make them afraid,’ rumbled the deep voice of Mega Knox as it reached the railings and bent them apart like plastic straws.
‘As I have discovered,’ Knox went on, ‘you can’t rely on anybody else. In the end, other people could stand in the way of you becoming all-powerful.’
‘They are my enemies!’ roared Mega Knox.
‘Yes, I suppose that’s right,’ mused Knox. ‘When push comes to shove, everybody else is your enemy.’
Mega Knox paused. ‘Everyone?’ it said quizzically.
‘Yes!’ snapped Knox. ‘Anyone who stands in your way is an enemy! So, yes, everyone is an enemy! Power is for one person alone!’
Mega Knox did not immediately speak, because an armoured car was approaching across the large circular area in front of the palace. ‘Put your hands above your head!’ crackled a loudspeaker on top. Mega Knox placed a hand on either side of the car and lifted it up. ‘Do not put your hands above your head! I’ve changed my mind!’ squealed the now-panicked voice from the speaker. Mega Knox flung the armoured car casually away, and there was a distant splosh as it plunged into the nearby lake.
‘Enemies,’ said Mega Knox firmly. ‘Enemies everywhere.’
‘Yes,’ gloated Knox, ‘you’re learning fast.’
‘I … learn,’ confirmed Mega Knox. ‘I learn everyone is an enemy.’
‘Potentially … yes.’ Knox reached up a finger and loosened his shirt collar as the huge figure in front of him turned ponderously, fixing him with its burning dark eyes.
‘You are enemy,’ it said decisively.
‘No,’ said Knox, controlling his panic with difficulty. ‘No, I am your creator. You are a copy of me. We are the same.’
Mega Knox
took a step towards him, towering above him. ‘No,’ it said slowly. ‘Not the same. I am stronger.’
Knox’s voice cracked slightly. ‘No … no.’
‘You have taught me this,’ Mega Knox continued. ‘Everyone is an enemy. You are enemy. I am stronger. I will destroy all enemies.’
‘That’s not my plan!’ screamed Nicholas Knox. ‘I will be all-powerful!’
‘I will be all-powerful,’ echoed Mega Knox, raising a hand.
Nicholas Knox gulped. ‘Oh no,’ he whispered to himself, suddenly realising what he had done.
In the clearing in the park, Hilda looked nervously over her shoulder as roars and explosions rang out, shaking the tree trunks. But she was a little preoccupied at that moment, watching Mary Perkins having a furious fight with herself.
Hilda had given up trying to work out which was the real Mary and which was Kopy Kat – they were moving too fast. As she watched, one Mary was pulling the other one’s hair; ‘Ow! Get off!’ complained the other Mary.
‘Which one’s the real you?’ Hilda pleaded, hopping desperately around the outside of the grassy area, wanting to help her friend but well aware she could end up fighting on the wrong side.
‘I am!’ both Marys replied at exactly the same time.
‘Gah! I can’t tell which one’s Kopy Kat!’ complained Hilda.
‘She is!’ replied both of the girls in yellow, as one got the other in a headlock, scuffling with her wellie-booted feet to try and trip up her opponent. But the other Mary broke free, and delivered an open-handed slap that sent the first Mary dancing backwards, pressing a hand to her face.
‘Have a slice of that!’ taunted Mary 2.
‘Hilda, help!’ pleaded Mary 1. ‘She hit me! It’s Kopy Kat! Get her!’
‘But what if you’re not the real one? What if you’re just saying that?’ said Hilda, flummoxed.