The Nameless Hero

by Lee Bacon

“Howzz camp?” he asked.

  “Actually, I never really went to camp,” I admitted.

  “Apparently not,” came another voice that I recognized instantly.

  “Mom!” I screamed.

  She was standing in the shattered doorway, dressed in full supervillain mode. As soon as I called her name, my mom’s face broke into a tearful smile. She rushed across the tanning salon, kicking aside an upturned rack of suntan lotion before grasping me in a huge hug.

  With her hands on my shoulders, Mom leaned back to give me a closer look. Her face was slick with tears of shock and relief. Her questions came pouring out so quickly that I could barely understand her.

  “Why are you chained up inside a tanning salon?” she asked. “What’s with the uniform? Was Multiplier just pointing a plasma pistol at you?”

  “Umm …,” I said. But that was as far as I got. Just then, I saw my dad. He must’ve gotten dressed in a hurry. He’d missed a button on his dark gray jumpsuit, and his silver goggles were a little crooked.

  “Joshua!” he called, crossing the room to hug me.

  In breathless tones, they explained what had happened. Fifteen minutes before, they’d both been asleep in their bed when they’d been awakened by a sudden crash. Dad had raced downstairs just in time to see Elliot breaking down the front door of our house to follow the sound of a ringing bell in the distance. Dressed in their pajamas, Mom and Dad had jumped into the car to follow him. Luckily, they kept a spare set of Dread Duo uniforms in a secret compartment in the backseat.

  “But how’d you get here?” Dad picked my mask up off the ground. He glanced from the mask to my uniform, confusion spreading across his features. “And why are you dressed like the Nameless Hero?”

  I sighed. “Because I am the Nameless Hero.”

  My parents stood in expectant silence, as if they were waiting for me to say that this was all a cruel practical joke. When that didn’t happen, Dad said, “But … how?”

  I started from the beginning, describing the mysterious notes I’d received and the substitute librarian who had attacked my friends and me, how Gavin had recruited us, and how I’d accidentally become a celebrity overnight.

  As I spoke, I watched their faces carefully to see if they were upset to learn that their only son was also a famous superhero—exactly the kind of person they’d spent half their lives fighting. But they both looked much too grateful that I was alive to be angry that I’d gone against the family business.

  “The important thing is that you’re okay!” Mom said. Her eyes moved to my outfit. “And at least they did nice work on your uniform. This looks like the handiwork of the Smicks.” She pinched the spandex between her fingers.

  “You’ve heard of the Smicks?” I asked, surprised.

  “Of course we have. They got their start designing uniforms for supervillains. Including us. But then they started booking projects for superheroes, and suddenly they were too important to work with villains anymore. Typical.” Mom exhaled an angry breath, then cast another glance at my uniform. “They may be pompous three-headed jerks, but there’s no mistaking their talent.”

  “Now let’s get you out of these chains,” Dad said.

  He reached into his utility belt and removed a slim plastic container from one of its many pouches.

  “This oughta do the trick!” With an excited grin, Dad leaned over my shoulder and began unscrewing the container. “Metal-eating ants! One of my own inventions!”

  “Wait!” My chains clattered. “I don’t want a bunch of ants crawling over me.”

  “It’s okay, Joshua. They’re not real. They’re miniature robotic insects with ultrasharp teeth.”

  “You’re not making me feel better.”

  “Not to worry, son.” Dad shook the container, gazing at it with the kind of pride he always got whenever it came to his own inventions. “They won’t eat human flesh. The only material they’re interested in is metal. They’ll chew through those chains in no time—”

  “Or we could just use this,” Mom interrupted. She was holding up a key. “I found it on the counter.”

  A look of disappointment crossed Dad’s face. “Fine. If you want to do it the easy way.”

  Once she’d unlocked the chain, Mom clasped it around the clone, who was still lying on the floor where he’d been knocked out by Elliot. As the lock clicked into place, the clone lurched forward, moaning to himself.

  “I just had the worst dream that I got attacked by a trash can with feet,” he mumbled.

  “That wasn’t a dream,” Mom said.

  “And it wasn’t a trash can either,” Dad piped up defensively. “You got attacked by a very sophisticated, state-of-the-art robot butler.”

  Behind him, Elliot was approaching the Liberty Bell with a roll of duct tape. “I fix the craaaaaack!” he said in his slurring electronic tone.

  “Not now, Elliot!” Dad ordered.

  The clone rattled his chains. He flinched when he noticed that my mom was now holding his plasma pistol. Then his expression changed—from fear to recognition.

  “Hey, you’re the Botanist!” His voice was a mixture of fear and admiration. His eyes grew even wider when he saw my dad. “And you’re Dr. Dread!”

  “Yeah, and we’re also the parents of the kid you were about to dematerialize,” Mom said.

  The clone went pale under his mask. “I—I wasn’t gonna do anything to him, I swear. I was just … showin’ him how the plasma pistol works.”

  “What a coincidence! I was about to show him how it works too. By blasting you into a pile of dust.” Mom flashed her most supervillainous scowl.

  The clone shivered with fear. “Please—I don’t want to disintegrate!” he sobbed.

  I’d seen my mom in action enough to know how intimidating she could be. And I also knew how to play along.

  “Maybe we’ll let you live,” I said to the clone. “If you tell us what we want to know.”

  He nodded eagerly. “I’ll tell you anything. Just don’t shoot.”

  “Where’s Number One? Is he still down in headquarters with the others?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What d’you mean? Where is he, then?”

  A strange grin took form on the clone’s face. “Actually, he’s right behind you.”

  Mom and I spun around at the same time. Standing in the front doorway was Multiplier. Holding a plasma pistol to my dad’s head.

  28

  Multiplier’s grip on Dad tightened, his finger quivering over the trigger.

  “Any sudden moves and I shoot,” he said.

  “Let my dad go,” I said. “It’s me you want. Not him.”

  Multiplier peered at me from across the salon. There was something in his eyes, something that was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

  What happened next was doubly surprising. First, Multiplier released my dad. And second, his features began to transform, until I was looking into a face that I hadn’t seen in days.

  “Brandy!” I gasped.

  She smiled faintly. “Sorry to scare you like that, Joshua. I couldn’t risk anyone realizing it was me, so I went undercover as Multiplier. Then I saw the Dread Duo lurking around the store. I had no idea you were related.”

  “Wait a minute …” Dad’s head swiveled from Brandy to me. “You two know each other?”

  I nodded. “She was part of the group that recruited me. But then she—”

  Disappeared. Went missing. Suddenly, all of Gavin’s warnings about Brandy went flickering through my mind. She’d betrayed us. Revealed the secret location of our facility to Multiplier. She was our enemy now.

  “I’m on your side,” she assured me. “It’s Gavin you need to worry about.”

  “Gavin?”

  “He’s been lying to you the entire time. He lied to all of us. He’s dangerous.”

  My head was swimming with uncertainty. Gavin was a lot of things—greedy, short-tempered, hairy. But dangerous?

  I didn�
��t know what to think anymore. I’d just started believing that Brandy was the enemy. Now I had to wrap my mind around the idea that Gavin was actually the one who’d been betraying us?

  I stared at Brandy warily from across the salon. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “Because I have proof,” Brandy said. “I’d begun suspecting that Gavin was lying. And so when he was away in New York, I searched his office. And what I discovered was too awful to believe.”

  Miranda was right. Brandy had been sneaking around behind Gavin’s back. But what did it all mean?

  “I’m not the one who’s been secretly collaborating with Multiplier. Gavin is. But it’s worse than that. They’re both working for Phineas Vex.”

  At the mention of Vex’s name, a shiver went through my parents. “Do you know where Vex is?” Dad asked.

  Brandy nodded. “He’s closer than you think.”

  I glanced around, as if Vex might jump out from behind a rack of self-tanning lotion. “What’re you talking about?”

  “He’s in the headquarters,” Brandy said, her eyes never leaving mine. “He’s been there since the beginning. He’s—he’s extremely weak. Unable to move. Hooked up to all kinds of machines.”

  Brandy’s words hit me like a wave. All the time my friends and I had spent in headquarters, Vex had been there too. And somehow I knew—even without Brandy needing to tell me—where he’d been all along.

  The room with the black door.

  My memory drifted back to the inside of the black room. The wires and instrument panels. The pounding rhythm that had sounded so much like a heartbeat. That was because it had been a heartbeat.

  A queasy feeling came over me. Miranda and I had been in the same room as Vex and we hadn’t even known it.

  “Once I found out what was going on, I knew I needed more proof,” Brandy said. “So last night I took the surveillance tapes with me and left headquarters.”

  “Gavin said you gave the tapes to Multiplier. That’s why everyone was forced to leave.”

  Brandy laughed darkly. “I’m sure Gavin was afraid of my sharing those tapes. But not with Multiplier. He didn’t want me showing them to the media. Or the police. And that was exactly what I was going to do. But when I learned what Vex and Gavin had planned for tonight, I knew I needed to come here. Before it was too late.”

  “What’re they planning?” Dad asked. “You mean this whole thing goes beyond stealing the Liberty Bell and taking our son hostage?”

  Brandy nodded. “Way beyond.” She reached into her handbag and removed a USB storage drive. “There’s something you need to see.”

  With Elliot watching over the chained-up clone, Brandy led us behind the counter, where she inserted the drive into the side of the cash register. As soon as she did, a video monitor rose from the counter.

  “There are several hours of surveillance video stored on this drive,” she explained.

  I thought about all those tiny cameras, watching over everything in headquarters. I’d grown so used to seeing them—after a while I’d practically stopped noticing them at all. Although I’m sure they never stopped noticing me.

  Brandy hit a few other buttons on the cash register. The screen flickered with black-and-white surveillance video of a place that I instantly recognized. The black room. Shadows fell across everything. Wires and tubes stretched like vines toward some kind of machine.

  Except this time, there was someone standing in front of the machine. Even in the darkness, I recognized the short, bald man instantly.

  Gavin.

  “This was recorded the day after you fought with Multiplier in Times Square,” Brandy said, hitting a button on the cash register.

  The video began to play. On the screen, I watched as Gavin took a step toward the machinery.

  “I apologize for keeping you waiting, sir.” He spoke in a quavering voice. “The past days have been extremely busy. But I have good news. The confrontation with Multiplier was a success. Everything went as planned. Well … nearly everything—”

  “What do you mean?” The voice came from the shadows inside the machinery. I knew at once who it belonged to: Phineas Vex. The awful tone was like something out of my worst nightmares. “Tell me what happened,” Vex commanded.

  “You see, sir, ever since the fight in Times Square, Joshua Dread has become—well …”

  “He’s become what?”

  Gavin trembled. “Famous.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “The thing is … I w-worry about the effect of his new celebrity status. If he disappears, every newspaper, website, and magazine on earth will want to know what happened. Perhaps we should wait before proceeding with our plan—”

  “THERE WILL BE NO CHANGES TO THE PLAN!” Vex’s voice seemed to shake the video monitor we were watching. “Our agreement was clear. I give you the money for your new superhero team. And in exchange, you bring me Joshua Dread.”

  My stomach curled into a sickening knot. Everything Gavin had told me was a lie. He didn’t care about training me to use my Gyft or about making me into a superhero. He’d been planning to hand me over to Vex the entire time.

  I could see my parents out of the corner of my eye. In the pale, flickering light of the monitor, their faces looked shocked and furious, as if they wanted to reach through the screen and strangle Vex.

  But for now, all we could do was watch. In the darkness, Vex’s voice hissed, “And remember, the boy must be brought to me alive. He’s no good to me dead.”

  I stared at the screen, my mind numb with shock. What did Vex want with me? And if he hated me so much, why did he insist on keeping me alive?

  “I assure you—I intend to follow through on our plan,” Gavin whimpered. “I merely thought—now that the boy has become a celebrity—”

  “You could exploit his fame?” Vex suggested.

  Gavin shook his head. “Of course not! B-but it might be wise to wait until the media isn’t following him quite so closely anymore. To make sure nobody else finds out what really happened.”

  “Nonsense! I have waited long enough already. We must act at the preordained time. That is when I take my new form.”

  I squeezed the edge of the counter more tightly. New form? What was he talking about? I leaned forward but could see nothing of Vex. Only wires and machinery, surrounded by shadows.

  “Once you’ve taken this … this new form”—Gavin shivered—“and I’ve brought you Joshua Dread, then my end of the deal is complete? Right? The rest of the team will remain unharmed? And the headquarters will be mine—for good?”

  “That is correct. You will have your little team of superheroes.” Vex spat out the last word like it left a foul taste in his mouth. “And your state-of-the-art training facility. I’ll have no need for it—or you—once I get what I want.”

  I was so glued to the video that I hardly noticed Elliot bumbling around, trying to straighten up the mess inside the salon. As usual, his attempts to clean only made things worse. He stepped on a bottle of sunscreen, spewing lotion across the floor. Bending down to clean that up, he knocked a small plastic container off the counter.

  None of us realized what was inside the container until it hit the ground. The cap popped off and a horde of tiny robotic bugs came crawling out. All of a sudden, my dad screamed—

  “THE METAL-EATING ANTS—THEY’RE ESCAPING!”

  This was about the time when the situation went from really bad to code-red catastrophic.

  29

  It took my brain a split second to catch up with the chaos breaking loose all around me. The container of metal-eating ants. Dad had originally gotten it out to free me from the chain. Once it was no longer necessary, he probably should’ve returned it to his utility belt. Instead, he’d absentmindedly placed the container on the counter and forgotten about it. At least until the moment when Elliot had knocked it to the ground, sending a flurry of robotic ants in every direction.

  Elliot lurc
hed across the floor chasing after the ants, while the ants seemed even more interested in chasing after him. His eyes glowed bright with a look of genuine fear when he realized what was going on.

  “BAD ANTS TRYYYYING TO EAT MEEEEE!” he wailed.

  Dad’s face twisted with an expression of intense pain. His inventions were attacking each other.

  “Elliot, you have to get out of here!” Dad stumbled across the salon, knocking the metal-eating ants away from his robot butler. He and Elliott staggered through the broken doorway and into the parking lot. Elliot hopped up and down while Dad circled him frantically, trying to shake the ants off.

  It was a good thing there weren’t any people in the parking lot this late at night. They might have wondered why a supervillain and a trash can with legs appeared to be dancing outside a tanning salon.

  Meanwhile, Brandy and my mom were desperately trying to stop the ants from getting to the Liberty Bell, scooping the little robotic insects back into the plastic container before they could turn a national landmark into an all-you-can-eat metal buffet.

  That was when I remembered the clone in the corner. I rushed across the salon, but the metal-eating ants had beaten me there. They’d already chewed through his chains, and now the clone was on his feet, an awful leer plastered across his face.

  He bolted past me, pausing at the counter long enough to hit a red button at the top of the cash register. An alarm began ringing at earsplitting volume.

  “So long, suckers!” the clone screamed above the alarm, rushing out the front door. Dad was too busy clearing away the last of the ants to notice the clone that raced past him and disappeared into the night.

  Brandy hurried over to the counter and punched several keys on the cash register, shutting off the alarm.

  “This is bad,” Brandy said. “This is very bad. If Multiplier thinks something’s gone wrong, there’s no telling what he’ll do. We need to get down to headquarters—now.”

  “How’re we gonna do that?” I glanced toward the pile of charred dust where the tanning bed used to be. “Our ride’s not looking so good.”

  Brandy thought for a moment. “There is another way.”