by Andy Briggs
But it was also an escape route out of his problems at home and at school. Pete speculated how much more fun it would have been if he’d found the Web site alone. It would have been his secret and he could have used those powers to help himself out of the miserable life he currently had.
He thought of calling Emily, but lately he had found himself becoming nervous when talking to her. He hoped he wasn’t developing a crush—that would be awful. But then again, she seemed to be interested in Toby.
Typical—his friend was taking everything from him.
That left nobody else he could call. The hollow feeling that had been growing inside his stomach seemed that much bigger.
Basilisk stirred and immediately struggled against his bonds, his angry cursing muffled by the gag.
“Take it easy,” said Pete, trying to keep the tremor of fear from his voice. “You’re being held captive by … by … “
He was stuck for a superhero name. Because none of them possessed specific powers, it was difficult to brand themselves. But “Pete” was hardly threatening.
“We’re working for the Hero Foundation so don’t try anything. Unless you want me to smother you in flames again.”
Basilisk calmed down and mumbled something incoherent. Pete hesitated. He had promised the others he wouldn’t remove the sack or the gag, but right now he had nobody to talk to. He might as well interrogate the prisoner.
“I’m going to remove your gag. Scream out and you’ll get a, uh, lightning bolt to the head. Understand?”
“Urgh-uh,” Basilisk replied.
Pete took that for a yes and tentatively walked around Basilisk and untied the gag, though he made sure to keep the sack firmly over Basilisk’s face. The villain took a deep breath.
“You’re a Downloader?”
“Yes. And a lot of very angry people want to talk to you about putting the virus into our system.” He moved a large, dingy, cracked bathroom mirror from a stool and sat down.
“The virus was a mere taste of things to come,” said Basilisk levelly. “Nothing compared to the imminent downfall of your precious little Foundation. Then you will once again be nothing more than an ordinary child.”
The words stung Pete, especially the word ordinary.
Basilisk continued. “In fact I’m surprised you’re still able to download powers.”
“We were the only ones who could. But they’re a little glitchy.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he’d given almost everything away.
“Most interesting. Just you four left, eh?”
“There are others,” retorted Pete sharply.
Basilisk knew he had the upper hand despite the circumstances. He poured on the scorn. “You mean the Primes? The real heroes, not toy heroes like you and your friends. Well, I didn’t see the Primes flying around Diablo Island. And I don’t hear them rushing to your aid now.”
Pete nervously checked the knots that held Basilisk in place and hoped they were strong enough. No matter how much superstrength Basilisk possessed he did not have the leverage to snap the wire, at least that’s what Lorna had explained. Pete was beginning to have doubts about that and he fingered the mobile in his pocket.
“Most Primes are nothing but cowards; well, the so-called heroic ones. Not like me and my oppressed brethren. We put our necks on the line whereas the people you work for hide behind children like you.”
Pete hated to admit it, but he agreed with the villain’s viewpoint. Their mission to Diablo Island had just confirmed that.
“So destroying the competition is what you had in mind?” asked Pete.
“An interesting way of putting it. Maybe you’re not as simpleminded as your friends …” Basilisk paused for a long moment, his head moving around as though he could clearly see around the shed, “who are not here. I take it then that you must be their leader. The brave one to interrogate the archvillain before handing him in?” He paused for effect. “I assume that to be the truth as no hero would leave their friend alone with a notorious criminal such as I. Would they?”
Pete remained silent for fear of openly agreeing with him. He thought about his friends sitting in their comfortable homes, and bet that they didn’t have their parents arguing in the background.
He had never felt so lonely.
Toby thumped the mouse hard; the Web site was still off-line. He had tried to search for “VIRAL” as a supervillain, but the regular Internet turned up nothing useful. He needed the rogues’ gallery on Hero.com to find more information about who they had faced. Plus, he needed to tell the authorities that they had captured Basilisk, but the site’s e-mail was down and there had been no sign of Mr. Grimm. Toby was beginning to think he must have died in the crash.
Toby stifled a yawn and felt incredibly tired—it had been a long day after all. He knew he should call Pete to make sure things were okay with Basilisk. Then again, Pete hadn’t called him, so he took that as a sign all was well.
His thoughts were interrupted as his e-mail pinged. Toby saw the message was from UNKNOWN. He hesitated; it looked like spam—unwanted e-mails sent to thousands of in-boxes, either coaxing people’s bank details from them or containing viruses. Usually he deleted such messages as soon as they arrived. His finger hovered over the delete key, but again he hesitated. It could be somebody trying to get in touch with him. He clicked on the e-mail.
A message flashed across the screen. “VIDEO FEED ACTIVATED.” Toby blinked in surprise. He glanced at the Webcam sitting on top of the monitor and quickly tried to flatten his hair, which was wild after his shower. A video window opened on-screen and Chameleon’s serious face appeared. Toby’s elation at seeing the superhero was quickly flattened when he realized he was dressed in very unheroic pajamas.
“Toby, good to see you in one piece,” said Chameleon with a curt nod. “I must be brief, there is much happening. First of all, congratulations. Not many face Viral and live to tell the tale.”
Toby unconsciously rubbed his wrist, just under the wristband they all still wore. The encounter with Viral had left two black marks where the villain’s fingers had touched. They didn’t feel like bruises and no amount of scrubbing would get rid of them. “So you know about what happened? That we have Basilisk?”
“Yes. That is why I had to contact you. Basilisk is a lethal customer. Do you have him in a secure facility?”
Toby hesitated. He wasn’t so sure a garden shed counted as secure. “He’s with Pete. Locked up tight.”
“Good. It is imperative you let nobody see him, and don’t talk to him; he can be silver-tongued when it suits him. Mr. Grimm will be on his way with a retrieval force, but it won’t be until daylight.”
“Grimm’s alive? I thought he’d abandoned us. And why not until tomorrow?”
“Mr. Grimm is not a fighter, so he had no part to play. That was your duty.” He was a typical Prime then, a coward at heart, not a hero. “And because things are so chaotic we cannot rally enough forces to retrieve him any sooner. The disaster on Diablo Island means more Enforcers are needed to try and secure the rest of the prison. We have a riot situation there now. The Hero Foundation is stretched thin. And while you may have captured Basilisk, Worm and Trojan escaped with Viral.”
Toby thought he detected a note of blame in Chameleon’s voice. “We were unprepared for Diablo Island, and your guards there didn’t exactly help the situation by shooting at us. So what’s so special about this team anyway?”
“Trojan is able to infiltrate very secure areas with ease. Worm can now enter computer systems and override them. And Viral’s skills are not just confined to the physical world—he has the ability to create digital viruses that cannot be stopped. The three of them together are a recipe for disaster. With Hero.com off-line it is probable they will try to locate our headquarters, infiltrate our physical defenses, and topple the Foundation … leaving them access to our stored superpowers.”
The reality hit Toby. “That’s terrible!”
�
�It gets worse. They could twist Hero.com, transforming it into a private Villain.net, under their control.”
Toby didn’t know what to say. It was because of his team’s failure that these villains were still loose.
Chameleon continued. “That is why, once we have Basilisk safely in custody, your team will have to locate Worm and the others.”
“They could be anywhere in the world!”
“Your primary mission is to defend the Foundation. The Enforcers, and a few Primes not in hiding, are trying to protect the public from increasingly hostile villainous activity. The rest of it is up to you. Find Worm and the others and stop their plan. Worm will have a hideout somewhere. You just have to locate it.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“I’m afraid not. Commander Courage, the hero who runs the Foundation, was the one who fought Worm in the past and imprisoned him—but something truly awful happened to Courage shortly afterward and he fell into a coma, suffering severe amnesia for a number of years. When he finally woke, he had no recollection of what had happened or where he’d imprisoned Worm.”
“How is that possible?”
“There are many terrible things in this world we still don’t fully understand. And Courage was a victim of that.” Chameleon stared straight at the camera. “I know this is a great burden, but whether you feel ready or not, you’re our only hope out there.”
Toby awoke the next morning still feeling exhausted. His conversation with Chameleon had not lifted his spirits.
Toby’s mother was shouting at him to get dressed and his eyes shot to the clock: 9:00 a.m. He bolted from bed at an incredible speed. In a split second he was standing at his bedroom door fully dressed as his blankets were still falling from the bed—that assured him he still had superpowers. Then he realized that he wasn’t late for school—it was the scheduled day off.
He should have phoned Pete last night but instead had gone straight to bed and fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Toby shouted to his mother that he was awake and getting dressed, then picked up the phone and dialed Lorna’s cell number. Several seconds passed before Pete picked it up, and spoke with a groggy voice.
“Yeah?”
“Pete, it’s Tobe. How’re you? Everything okay?”
“Uh … I … I was asleep.”
“Is Basilisk safe?”
Toby heard a loud yawn before Pete answered with a flat, unenthusiastic voice. Not the usual Pete. “He’s still in my shed if that’s what you mean.”
“Look, man, I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I fell asleep. But I talked to Chameleon. They’re coming to pick Basilisk up today. I’ll come over.”
“Today? Uh … “
Toby frowned. “What’s wrong?”
There was an unusually long silence broken by a loud snuffling as if Pete had just blown his nose. “My … uh … my parents. They said they’re splitting up. I don’t know what to do. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Toby froze. Pete’s parents constantly argued—it was the usual background noise to life in the Kendall household. But this was a bombshell, and Toby knew Pete would not take it well. Coupled with the fact that a supervillain was held prisoner in his shed and a platoon of Enforcers were coming to retrieve him—well, that was not going to help the situation.
“Okay, I’m coming over. See you in half an hour.”
He ran downstairs at a more normal speed and started putting on his sneakers. He looked up to see his mother and father staring at him. They seemed overdressed in business suits.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sarah Wilkinson asked firmly.
“Pete’s. He needs me to—”
“No you’re not. Today is the first day of your father’s exhibition, remember?”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Aw, no!”
John Wilkinson wagged his finger. “We never ask you for much. You can at least come along for my first day and show some support.”
Sarah nodded. “And since you’re conveniently out of school, you’re going to be there.”
Toby had completely forgotten the public opening. “Oh, Mom! It’s a day off!”
“You don’t get something for nothing,” warned his dad. “You’ve got tomorrow all to yourself.”
“I really can’t. I have to see Pete.”
“You can see him in the afternoon,” snapped Sarah in a voice that indicated the discussion was over. “But right now you can support your father! Lorna has already flitted out this morning leaving a note saying she’s on a date. A date! And so early in the morning! I’ll be having words with her tonight. She is going to be grounded for being so inconsiderate!”
Toby was furious. He wished that he could snap back with the fact that he had saved her from the deadly clutches of Doc Tempest in Antarctica, and how he had saved his father’s life by ensuring his plane could land. But of course they wouldn’t believe him. He sighed deeply—just when his friend really needed him, he couldn’t be there. He knew Pete would be mad at him—no, scratch that, furious—but he had asked Toby not to tell anyone. Toby couldn’t face an argument over the phone. He decided to text Pete instead—but it wasn’t until he was on his way with his parents in the car that he remembered he’d lost his cell phone.
Worm looked across the jungle canopy and listened to the chorus of insects that called it home. He heard footsteps on the stone floor and saw, from the corner of his eye, that Trojan had joined him. The humidity had caused her to pull her hood off, and her fine bobbed blonde hair fell to her shoulders as she examined Toby’s cell phone.
“This fell out of the kid-hero’s jacket pocket.”
Worm glanced at it and frowned. “What on earth is it?”
Trojan sighed. Worm was still learning about the twenty-first century. “It’s a cell phone … a telephone,” she corrected herself.
“A telephone? But what about the wires? The exchange?”
“It’s wireless,” she sighed. “It uses … it’s magic, okay?”
Worm snatched it from her. “How intriguing.” He twisted it in his hands, almost snapping the clamshell screen off. “But so what? I have wireless communication equipment here at my base.”
“What? A pigeon? The stuff you have here is ancient! And none of us know Morse code. We can’t do anything with your stuff. Look, with this phone we can track the kid down. Find out where they’ve taken Basilisk.”
Worm handed back the phone, then turned his gaze back across the jungle in thoughtful silence.
Trojan folded her arms and stared at the back of his head. “I mean, that’s the plan. Right? He is the leader of this operation. Not you.”
Worm whirled around, his blunt face red with anger. Trojan momentarily thought that his face almost did resemble a worm, albeit a worm with beady eyes and a thin mouth. “He is my prisoner! I should never have listened to his nonsense. And now I’m left babysitting you and Viral!”
Trojan gave him a crooked smile. She controlled her anger amazingly well for a villain. Then again, she preferred cunning theft rather than blatant action.
“Chill out before you give yourself a heart attack, Gramps.”
“I’d ‘chilled out’ long enough in this damn suspended animation chamber.”
He kicked a central steel cylinder that dominated the ancient stone room. It was surrounded by control desks sporting huge dials and valves. State-of-the-art equipment for the 1940s, but now it looked like something out of an old black-and-white horror film.
Trojan shrugged. “You don’t appreciate just how ingenious Stone Head’s plan is.”
“You know the full plan?”
“Not every detail. But with the three of us together and his knowledge of the enemy, it’s a no-brainer. The Hero Foundation and the Council of Evil are the biggest threats we face in our profession. Paperwork is what’s killing us now, not secret weapons or special powers. By assembling Viral and me, and even a geriatric like you, Basilisk has put into motion events that c
an really change the shape of history.”
Spittle shot from Worm’s mouth. “Geriatric! How dare you?” He stepped threateningly toward Trojan, but she just laughed at him. Being taller, she stopped his advance by pushing against his head.
“When Stone Head’s plan brings down the cowering heroes we can form our own rival Council, helped by freeing those unfortunates held in Diablo Island. The real greats of our time like Lord Eon!” She blinked at Worm’s lack of reaction. “Of course, he was after your time. The only Prime who can manipulate time! I always thought he was cool. Think what we could do if we freed him. Under our guidance, of course.”
Worm calmed down; it was not wise to show any weakness in front of this calculating woman. Anger was a weakness; that was what had got him captured so many years ago.
“So, Old Timer, if you’re tired of babysitting, and Stone Head neglected to reveal the intricate details of his plan to you … I don’t think we have much of a choice than to go and save him. Do we?”
Worm nodded. “How do you propose we locate him with a mere telephone?”
“You’d make a lousy detective. The boy has a few friends in the address book stored in his phone. We can track their phone signal down and that will lead us to the boy and Basilisk. We should start with the last number dialed. Some girl named Lorna.”
“You can track a cell phone signal?” asked Worm incredulously. He was bewildered by how much information was available through technology.
Trojan raised a perfect eyebrow. “Police do it all the time. It will lead us right to our target.”
It was stiflingly warm inside the museum and it was packed, adding to the claustrophobic atmosphere. Normally Toby enjoyed walking around the exhibits, examining nasty-looking Viking or Indian weapons, marveling at the cool hieroglyphic texts of the ancient Egyptians, or staring at the dinosaur skeletons and imagining the beasts stamping around the countryside.
Unfortunately, today he was confined to the special exhibit hall that was showcasing his father’s latest discovery. It was all very impressive the first time around—but the hundredth time around of hearing exactly the same story was tiring Toby. Plus a museum wasn’t the place to be when you knew the fate of the free world hung on your shoulders. But how do you explain that to your parents?