by Greg James
‘Oh, don’t worry. They’re in good hands,’ replied the other man drily. And without further conversation, he ran to the edge of the building and jumped out into the night, reaching inside his coat to pull a ripcord as he did so.
The Dandy Man dragged himself over to the window and gazed out across the city. Far below, but moving away rather than downwards, he could make out a hurrying black-and-white shape, its coat fluttering in the wind as it sped through the air underneath a narrow black parachute. He could just see the twin swords glinting as they caught the moonlight.
‘He stole them …’ breathed the Dandy Man to himself, the enormity of what had just happened catching up with him. ‘A thief – a flying thief …’
His head slumped to the floor.
‘A thieving magpie!’
11
The Perils of Annabel
For the rest of the morning Murph’s brain circled round and round – first to Magpie in his prison, and then back to everything Sir Jasper had told them about Magpie’s first Capability theft. It seemed as though every answer Jasper had given the Super Zeroes had just thrown up more questions.
By the time lunchtime arrived, Murph was brooding harder than a hen flicking through an egg catalogue. As he entered the main hall, he glanced up at the Heroes’ Vow, and that single line popped out at him once again:
I promise to keep our secrets.
How far are the Alliance prepared to go in order to keep their secrets? he wondered to himself.
Murph’s reverie was interrupted by a loud cry of ‘Mind yer backs!’ as the school’s head chef, Bill Burton, whizzed by dangerously close to him with a huge piping-hot tray of meatballs on a little trolley. Bill was a frantic little chap, who zipped around the lunch hall attending to each station like a clown spinning plates at the circus.
Incidentally, Bill was also very good at spinning actual plates. It was his Cape – and it made him an excellent catering manager – but he had been banned from using it at The School, as it encouraged the children to try spinning plates too.
In fact, at one point plate spinning had been so popular that the school lost thirty-five per cent of its crockery, causing Mr Souperman to send a stern letter home. The letter was widely mocked by parents and students alike, and in some instances, spoof versions began appearing mysteriously, posted on the walls of various classrooms. Here’s an example of one of them:
Dear Parents,
It has cucumber to my attention that several students are causing absolute haddock in the dining room through the mindless act of trying and failing to spin plates. What’s more, despite serious prawnings that action would be taken, these students have continued to fishobey me. As the bread teacher of this school I shouldn’t have to waste my thyme writing letters about such nonsense, butter the situation has gotten serious. Peas tell your children that they mustard stop doing this immediately, otherwise they will have their lunch privileges bacon away from them.
Best fishes,
Mr SouperTheDayMan
‘Roll up, roll up!’ said Mr Burton in his chipper Northern accent as Murph reached the front of the lunch queue. ‘Fresh batch of meatballs over here!’
Meatballs were Murph’s favourite, and he loved it when he got the first spoonful of the unspoilt servings.
‘Ah, Mr Cooper!’ said Bill Burton loudly. ‘Will you be having your usual, sir?!’
‘Yes, please, chef!’ Murph laughed as he playfully saluted the smiley meatball provider. He liked Bill a lot. It was hard not to, really: he was a very happy, excited fellow who seemed to absolutely love his job.
Bill nodded, saluted back and proceeded to flamboyantly scoop up the delicacies and present them on Murph’s plate.
‘Et voila!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do enjoy!’
‘Thanks, Bill,’ said Murph, forgetting his Magpie-based woes for a moment, and he wandered off to scan the tables for the rest of the Super Zeroes, hot tomatoey steam wafting into his face as he did.
Finally he caught a flash of yellow – Mary had saved him a seat next to her. The rest of the Zeroes were already there too, busy shovelling in meatballs.
‘It’s your lucky day, Meatball Murph!’ she told him as he approached.
Murph squeezed in between her and Hilda and started scooping his lunch into his mouth as fast as he could.
‘Wobbler fink abba fur emission?’ Murph mumbled, his mouth full of spaghetti.
‘Wobbly … what now?’ asked Mary, puzzled and slightly grossed out by Tomato Mouth next to her.
Murph swallowed and wiped his face with a hand.
‘What did you think of the first part of our mission?’ he clarified. ‘We've already found out how Magpie got his name – and a bit about how his Cape-stealing power works. Not a bad start, huh?’
‘Ah, right. Thanks for translating that from gross mouth-full-of-pork language,’ said Mary. ‘Yes, very helpful. That purple lightning stuff sounds weird, but at least it gives people some kind of warning sign that he’s trying to take a Capability. It sounds like he just used to set up crimes to lure Heroes to him, then steal their powers and escape. No wonder he was such a danger to the Capable community.’
‘I know,’ said Murph. ‘And now, after years of everyone thinking he’s safely locked away, he’s planning something new.’
‘He might not be planning anything at all,’ Billy argued. ‘He just messed around with that Dandy Man bloke, didn’t he? Wasted his time with those guards just to test him out. Maybe that’s all he was doing with you. He heard about you and was curious, like he said.’
Murph could see Nellie shaking her head. She didn’t think that sounded likely, and neither did he. ‘No, I think there’s more to it,’ he said seriously. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’ He slightly spoiled this dramatic and quite heroic declaration by doing an accidental but rather large meatball burp.
Mary cowered away. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about your guts,’ she joked.
‘Sorry,’ Murph replied bashfully.
* * *
It was Mary who realised that the answers the Super Zeroes needed could be right under their noses. Meatballs managed, they were preparing to spend another CT lesson hanging around in the ACDC storeroom while the rest of the class trained to be Heroes.
‘Look at all this!’ Mary said, leafing through a cardboard folder full of papers. ‘Old Alliance records – details of missions. This place is a gold mine! I bet there’s something here that will tell us a bit more about Magpie! Let’s split up and see if we can get some of this stuff in order and find something useful.’
‘Hang on,’ said Billy, ‘are you saying that we’re actually going to clean up the storeroom? The next part of our mission is, in fact, a spot of tidying?’
‘Tidying isn’t a dirty word, Billy,’ sniffed Mary. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact.’
But before they could start investigating properly, the storeroom door suddenly opened, admitting Mr Flash’s head and shoulders.
‘OI!’ he shouted. ‘What you doing malingerin’ in here, you bunch of muscle-less cockles?’
‘We’re, you know, tidying the storeroom?’ said Mary tentatively.
‘Like you told us to?’ added Billy.
‘WELL, STOP IT!’ he snarled at them like an unreasonable tiger. ‘COME AND JOIN THE LESSON.’
The Zeroes exchanged bemused looks, then filed back out into the ACDC. The rest of the class looked at them as if they were unwelcome worms in the apple of Wednesday.
‘We’re staging a mock rescue mission today,’ said Mr Flash four decibels louder than necessary. ‘And we need an even number of people on each team.’
‘Ah, now I get it,’ whispered Murph to Mary. ‘He just wants us to make up the numbers.’
‘SHUUUUUT UUUUUPPPPP!’ yelled Mr Flash at him predictably. ‘NOW, this is going to be a realistic simulation of the kind of operation you might be sent on if you ever do actually join the Heroes’ Alliance. Annabel there is in terrible danger.’ He pointed
a maroon finger towards the other end of the ACDC, where a life-sized stuffed rag doll was dangling limply at the top of a very tall wooden ladder. She was dressed in an old-fashioned frock and had a smiling, painted face with long eyelashes.
Between the class and the doll, Mr Flash had placed piles of mats, vaulting horses, hurdles and other gym equipment to form a makeshift assault course.
‘Half of you are going to play the villains today,’ he continued. ‘Although, of course, the Heroes’ Alliance doesn’t refer to them as villains. The official term is –’
‘Rogues!’ Murph interrupted, earning himself a filthy look and a grudging nod.
‘Yeeeeees,’ said Mr Flash, extremely reluctantly. ‘Kid Normal is correct. Rogues. So some of you will be playing the part of Rogues who are holding the lovely Annabel prisoner. And the rest of you will be trying to climb that ladder and get her out. Alive.’
‘Looks a bit late for that,’ fluted a voice from the back.
Murph thought it sounded like Corned Beef Boy, and shot him a little glance. Corned Beef Boy glared right back, and then did that slightly embarrassing thing that people think looks cool but isn’t, where you point at your own eyes with your fingers and then point at the person you’re trying to intimidate, as if to say ‘I’m watching you.’
Mr Flash noticed Corned Beef Boy’s little show and decided to volunteer him. ‘Right, Roland, since you seem so keen, get yourself up here. You can lead our Rogue team today.’
Corned Beef Boy trudged to the front of the class.
‘And who’s going to be head Hero …’ mused the teacher. ‘How about you, Elsa?’
‘OK,’ replied Elsa brusquely, and she shouldered her way to the front.
‘Right then, you two, hurry up and pick your teams,’ Mr Flash encouraged them.
Even before they started, Murph knew that he and his friends would be chosen last. It was as inevitable as that moment when you call your primary school teacher ‘Mummy’ by mistake, and just as humiliating.
The kids with combat skills were chosen first. Then those with super-speed or the ability to fly without an umbrella. Then those with advanced tele-tech or X-ray vision.
After a couple of minutes, the whole class was staring at the five Super Zeroes, who remained standing at the edge of the Development Centre, feeling as out of place as five carrots who have accidentally wandered into a tangerine convention.
There was a silence as awkward as the one that follows the moment when you call the teacher ‘Mummy’.
‘Go on, then,’ coaxed Mr Flash, nudging Corned Beef Boy, whose turn it was. ‘Get it over with: pick one of the remnants.’
‘Don’t want any of them,’ he grumped. ‘They’re useless. We stick.’ He led his team off to the other end of the hall, where they ranged themselves threateningly across the width of the room.
‘Looks like we’re with you, then, Elsa,’ said Hilda brightly, cantering across to join the rest of the team and standing next to Gangly Fuzz Face, who looked at her furiously. The other Super Zeroes shambled nervously into position too.
‘Right!’ shouted Mr Flash, throwing his hands into the air. ‘Heroes, to count this as a successful mission, Annabel must be delivered back to me unharmed. And remember that this is a drill – so go easy on each other, all right? Strike to disable only. Three … two … one. GO!’
Elsa beckoned her team together for a pep talk.
‘OK, we’ve got the best Capes, so this will be easy,’ she told them. ‘You’ – she jerked her head at Gangly Fuzz Face – ‘your force fields are cool. Use them as soon as you can.’ She gestured to Frankenstein’s Nephew. ‘Use your fire to keep them at bay. Basically, let’s just get in there and kick some serious shin.’
‘Errrm … what should we do?’ Hilda wanted to know.
Elsa did a sort of scornful snort. ‘You stay behind us and try not to get in the way.’
‘Yeah, but what’s your actual rescue plan?’ Hilda persisted.
‘I just told you! Steam over there and use our Hero powers to save the day! Weren’t you listening?’ demanded Elsa arrogantly.
‘Not strictly a plan …’ began Murph, but it was too late. With a shout of ‘CHARGE!’ Elsa had led the rest of their group off across the hall, firing blasts of ice from her hands. As she ran, Murph could have sworn he heard her singing to herself, but for legal reasons we should point out that the song was not about letting it go, being one with the wind and sky, or the cold never bothering her anyway.
The opposing team seemed to have been caught slightly on the hop by this sudden onslaught. Elsa’s Cape was already coating much of the centre of the ACDC in ice and frost and, faced with the other team barrelling towards them, Corned Beef Boy decided to tackle the attack head on.
‘GET THEM!’ he roared, lumbering towards the increasingly snow-covered middle of the room.
Watching the scene unfold, Murph thought it looked a bit like opening time at a Christmas grotto – if someone had announced that the first person on Santa’s lap would be given a private jet. The two sides reached the icy area at around the same time, their feet slipping all over the place as they desperately tried to engage the other team.
Gangly Fuzz Face used one of his force fields to stop Corned Beef Boy in his tracks, who fell over backwards in a shower of sparkling ice crystals. The two enormous final-year students had been placed on opposing teams, and they squared up to each other. One raised her hands like a conductor, creating a tornado in the air that whirled particles of ice upwards into a blizzard that spread across the room, stinging eyes and faces. Her friend opened his mouth like he was about to be sick, but instead a powerful stream of water shot out of him like a fire hose. He raked his head from side to side, knocking several people off balance before Elsa froze the jet of water, blocking his mouth with a huge ice cube. Enraged, he flew at her and grabbed her by the hair, all Capes forgotten as they grappled with each other.
Before long, the centre of the ACDC was a mass of brawling, struggling figures only dimly visible through the snow. Grunts, slaps and the occasional word that isn’t suitable for this book filled the air.
‘Narnia’s really gone downhill recently, hasn’t it?’ said Mary drily, sheltering with the other Super Zeroes behind a frozen vaulting horse.
‘What on earth are you all doing?’ screamed Mr Flash from the other end of the room. ‘I’ve never seen such a bunch of bimbling beavers! SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING, FOR THE LOVE OF JOHN!’
Elsa’s ice blasts had by now covered a large part of the ACDC, including Annabel’s ladder, which was hidden behind a sheet of frozen water.
‘How are we going to rescue the hostage now?’ grunted Frankenstein’s Nephew from the crook of someone’s elbow. ‘Shall I melt it?’ He ignited one of his hands hopefully, but before he could do anything a member of the opposing team, who’d transformed her entire body into stone, knocked into him and sent him flying headfirst into a snow drift.
Nellie – a small icicle hanging from her nose – grabbed Murph by the sleeve. She widened her eyes and pointed urgently towards the far end of the room, where Annabel was dangling sadly above the blizzard. Murph realised what his friend was telling him. The coast was clear; the entire defending team was caught up in a ridiculous snow battle. This was their chance.
‘She’s right,’ he told the rest of the Super Zeroes, earning himself a quarter-of-a-second smile from Nellie in the process. ‘While they’re all busy holding the Annual Snowman Smackdown, we could just get in there, have Mary fly up, grab Annabel and win the battle! Billy, can you help us get a bit closer? We could use some cover.’
‘That I can do,’ said Billy, ballooning himself and beginning to roll towards the other end of the hall like an out-of-control wobbly tyre. The other Super Zeroes followed behind, dashing towards the foot of the ladder while explosions and ice jets crackled and snapped around them.
Murph glanced over his shoulder, satisfying himself that the rest of the class was busy brawling wi
th each other and showing off.
He tapped Mary on the back: ‘Now, go!’
Mary popped out her umbrella, rising smoothly out from behind Billy and scooping Annabel from the top of the ladder in seconds flat. She made landfall again without any of the rest of the class even noticing what had happened.
‘Nice to meet you, Annabel,’ said Murph seriously to the doll’s smiling face, shaking her by one limp cloth hand. ‘We’re here to rescue you.’
‘We’ve just got to get you back to Mr Flash,’ said Hilda tensely, as Billy un-ballooned back to his more customary size beside her.
The centre of the room was still almost completely blocked by the battle that was raging in the snow – Murph could just make out the figure of Mr Flash right at the other end of the ACDC, hopping about and shouting something about ‘uselessness’ and ‘most ridiculous load of tangling terrapins I’ve ever seen’.
‘Back down the side,’ Murph decided, pointing to the edge of the room that still seemed relatively clear.
They made a break for it, trying to crouch and run at the same time, with Mary dragging Annabel by the foot. But just as they began to feel like they might make it through, a shout brought them up short.
‘Hey! Losers!’ It was the hoarse voice of Frankenstein’s Nephew.
The Zeroes stopped in their tracks.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he continued, as more of the class stopped fighting each other and turned to look. The clouds of ice crystals filling the air gradually began to settle.
‘They’ve done it …’ said Gangly Fuzz Face in surprise, letting go of Crazy Eyes Jemima’s hair. ‘They’ve rescued the hostage.’
‘Nah, I don’t reckon so,’ laughed Frankenstein’s Nephew, jabbing his hands towards the Zeroes. ‘I don’t think Annabel’s gonna make it out of this alive.’ He laughed a grunting laugh, and shot two fat jets of fire directly towards the cloth dummy.
‘HEYYY! They’re on our team!’ cried Fuzz Face. But nobody heard him, because right at that moment Murph shouted, ‘Oh no you don’t!’ and dived straight in front of Annabel.