by Lucas Flint
All in all, Beams was happy he wasn’t alone. He stood next to Lauren, who seemed far more comfortable with the hustle and bustle of New York City than he did. She was eating an ice cream cone they had bought from a vendor when they arrived in Times Square, an ice cream cone that seemed way too overpriced to Beams. But Lauren had paid the fifteen dollars for the single cone happily and without question, which made Beams think Lauren was either not very good with money or else fifteen dollars for an ice cream cone was considered a deal in NYC, which meant that this city was even worse than he thought.
The two of them stood on the periphery of the area that had been set apart from the rest of Time Square for the unveiling of the Sagan statue. The statue itself could easily be seen no matter where you were in Times Square, rising above everyone else. The statue was covered a thick black shroud, which meant that you couldn’t even see its general outline. All Beams could tell was that the Sagan statue was massive and that it would probably kill or hurt a lot of people if it were to fall down.
At the foot of the statue was a platform that was currently empty. Neither President Sagan nor Vice President Wilma O’Brian were present, but according to the flyer Lauren had picked up when they got to Times Square, the two politicians would be showing up soon enough. There were, however, dozens and dozens of armed guards and soldiers patrolling or guarding the platform and the area around it. None of the guards seemed to noticed Beams and Lauren, which Beams was thankful for, because this mission was already tough enough without having to deal with Sagan’s bodyguards.
“How much longer until Sagan shows up?” Beams asked Lauren as two black men with Jamaican accents walked by them, arguing loudly about some band they were divided on.
Lauren finished licking her ice cream and glanced at her watch. “Five minutes. You ready?”
Beams nodded and looked back to the stage. He felt nervous about the plan, but his part was not going to be difficult. As long as no one noticed him, Beams should be able to pull off his part very easily.
That’s why I had to ditch my suit, Beams thought, glancing down at his new red t-shirt and jeans, and put on these normal clothes. I’d stand out like a sore thumb if I still wore my costume, though I feel kind of naked without it.
Taking a deep breath, Beams went over the plan again in his mind. They didn’t have much time left before the plan started, and it would start as soon as President Sagan showed up. So Beams was going to take these next few minutes to reflect on the plan, especially his role.
Operation Handshake—which was what Genius called their plan—hadn’t changed much even with Beams and Hypno’s additions, though they played important roles in the overall plan. Beams was to escort Lauren to the stage and keep her safe in the event that things went south, though he was warned that he would have to keep a safe distance from Sagan because Lauren’s telepathy-blocking device did not extend that same protection to his mind. As for Hypno, his job was to go around the crowd picking out random people who he would hypnotize into sleeper agents. The sleeper agents would begin rioting as soon as the ‘signal’—that is, Sagan’s death—went off, which would create enough chaos for Beams and Lauren to escape unharmed.
All in all, Beams was satisfied with his part in the plan, but he still worried things could go wrong. They always did, but this plan was riskier than anything Beams had done yet. He had never assassinated a politician before, not even one who deserved it like Sagan did. He imagined that Sagan must have a lot of protection, even without his telepathy, and that this protection would jump into action as soon as Sagan got killed.
Keep your head on straight, Alex, Beams told himself. It will be easy. All Lauren has to do is step up onto the stage and shake President Sagan’s hand. That’s it.
Even so, Beams scanned the crowd every now and then, just to make sure no one was paying attention to them. As far as he could tell, everyone was preoccupied with their own thoughts or with the things going on around them, to the point where Beams doubted that anyone was paying attention to two teenagers waiting to see the President of the United States.
And by the time anyone realizes that we’re not just two teenagers, it will be too late to stop us, Beams thought. I hope, anyway.
All of a sudden, a dimensional portal appeared on stage. This immediately drew the attention of everyone in the area and a few people even screamed, though whether in fear or excitement, Beams did not know. All Beams knew was that his first instinct was that the Darzens had created the portal and were about to invade this world, causing him to grab Lauren’s arm and protectively put himself in front of her, ignoring her own cry of surprise.
But as it turned out, no Darzens emerged from the portal. Instead, three figures stepped out of the portal, three figures Beams did not recognize. One of them was a tall, strapping young black man wearing a green and yellow costume, which Beams realized were the same colors as his costume. The black man had long dreads and waved at the crowd as he emerged from the portal, earning applause from the crowd, though Beams sensed that most of the people only clapped to avoid getting into trouble.
“That’s Hopper,” said Lauren in a low voice to Beams. “He was a member of the Young Neos when he was younger and is one of Sagan’s most loyal followers. He’s currently acting as Sagan’s personal transporter due to his ability to open portals that can transport people across the world.”
Portals? Beams thought, watching Hopper carefully. Could he open a portal to my home dimension, too?
Pushing that thought out of his mind for now, Beams turned his attention to the other two people. One of them was a very old-looking man whose stark white hair was quite wispy and thin. He was slightly hunched over and seemed to have trouble walking on his own because he clutched Hopper’s arm as he walked. Beams recognized him as President Barnabas Sagan, who Genius had shown him pictures of back in the hideout.
He looks horrible, Beams thought. I bet a stiff wind could knock him over.
The third person was a woman who looked slightly younger than Sagan, but not by much. She could at least walk by herself, standing upright and waving at the crowd with the fakest smile Beams had ever seen on another human being’s face. Unlike Sagan, she had a full head of hair and her skin wasn’t as wrinkly as his, but Beams thought it looked fake, like she’d gotten plastic surgery and was perhaps wearing a wig.
“That’s Wilma O’Brian,” Lauren muttered again as the crowd applauded the woman on stage. “Sagan’s vice president. She was the First Lady of President Howard O’Brian back in the nineties. Everyone thought she’d run for president herself someday, so they were surprised when she accepted Sagan’s offer to become his VP.”
“She looks like a robot wearing a skin suit,” said Beams.
Lauren smiled. “Yeah. She’s even less popular than Sagan, but you’d better not say that aloud, because she’s even less tolerant of criticism than he is.”
Beams looked at Lauren in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” said Lauren, nodding. “But we can talk about that later. Sagan’s on stage, which means we need to get closer.”
Tossing her empty ice cream cone into a trash can, Lauren began making her way through the crowd to the front of the stage. Beams followed, smiling apologetically and saying sorry to the various bystanders Lauren shoved aside on their way through. He and Lauren were pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend at the unveiling, so he was pretending to be the nonplussed boyfriend who was trying to apologize for his ‘girlfriend’s’ rudeness. Based on the unfriendly scowls he received, he guessed the bystanders weren’t accepting his apologies.
Beams and Lauren eventually reached the front of the crowd, where they found a line yellow police ribbon separating the crowd from the stage. Three armed guards stood on the other side of the ribbon, guns in hand, but they did not seem to pay particular attention to Beams and Lauren. That was good because once the plan started rolling, they wouldn’t have much time to fight the guards.
Up on the stag
e, President Sagan and Vice President O’Brian took their seats on the empty chairs, while Hopper went up to the podium and, speaking into the microphone, said to the assembled crowd, “Welcome, citizens of the United States! It is wonderful to see such a wide and diverse crowd of citizens have gathered today for the unveiling of our great and just president’s newest statue. All of these smiling faces fill my heart with joy because they represent the deep desire for equality and justice which President Sagan has worked tirelessly to bring about for so many years.”
Beams looked around at the people around him. Most were indeed smiling, but it looked awfully forced. He wasn’t sure if Hopper actually believed that the people were happy to see President Sagan or if he was simply trying to trick people into believing they were. It made Beams wonder why anyone would show up at all if they didn’t actually like the President.
“As we all know, President Sagan has been working toward achieving a truly just and equal society ever since his landslide election ten years ago,” Hopper continued. “Thanks to the President’s policies, we have rid this land of the great lie that superpowers are genetic, the great lie which for thirty years created a false system of inequality in which some were called superheroes and some were not. Now we understand that anyone can be a superhero and that powers can be attained by anyone so long as they believe. Truly, the oppressive social constructs which brought so much misery and inequality in society have been nearly eliminated.”
Beams frowned. He glanced at Lauren, hoping that she understood what Hopper meant about ‘oppressive social constructs,’ but she just shrugged as if to say, He’s crazy, don’t think too much about it.
Then Hopper scowled and balled his right hand into a fist. “Despite the great progress we’ve made in the last decade, there are still scattered remnants of the original lie in this country, who seek to undermine this great just and equal society which President Sagan has sacrificed so much to make. These Dissidents—bigots, really, privileged jerks who can’t stand not being special and superior to others anymore—are but a relic of the past. Their days are numbered and they know it, for it is we, and not they, who are on the right side of history.”
Hopper gestured at the veiled statue behind himself. “This statue represents not merely President Sagan, but equality and justice. It is a symbol of true justice and equality. Though there are many statues like it in the land, this one shall be a symbol of defiance against the retrogrades who seek to undermine our perfect utopia! Behold!”
The shroud on the statue was suddenly pulled down by a couple of workers. As the shroud fell, it revealed a gigantic statue that somewhat resembled Sagan. ‘Somewhat’ because, though the general figure resembled Sagan, some of the details were different. Its hair was fuller than the actual Sagan and its skin was nowhere near as wrinkly as his. It looked like how Sagan may have looked a decade or so ago, which was made all the starker by comparing it to the wrinkled old man who sat in the chair on the stage next to O’Brian.
Beside him, Lauren made a face. “Ugh. Now his ugly mug is going to be immortalized in stone. Makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Hopper to the crowd. He wiped a tear from his eye. “It’s a work of art, comparable to Michaelangelo’s ‘David.’ Actually, I would say it is superior to that statue because it represents ideals far superior to the ones represented by that old piece of trash.”
The people clapped and applauded, but again there was a noticeable lack of energy among them. It made Beams wonder what kind of leader Sagan was that he apparently didn’t notice or care to notice that his own people had little enthusiasm for him.
He must be a psycho who just likes getting praise even when people don’t mean it, Beams thought. Or maybe he’s too senile to notice how bored everyone is.
“Please, hold your applause,” said Hopper, holding up a hand, “because the best has yet to come. Today isn’t merely the unveiling of this beautiful statue. Indeed, I would say that that is the least exciting thing we will do today. Something far more glorious awaits us.”
The tone in the crowd became confused and even curious at this pronouncement from Hopper. Beams looked at Lauren, wondering if she knew what Hopper was talking about, but Lauren looked every bit as surprised everyone else.
“What’s he talking about?” Beams asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” said Lauren, a hint of panic under her words. She tugged at a strand of hair. “Our intel didn’t mention anything about something else happening today aside from the unveiling of the statue. Must be some kind of last minute change or something.”
Then Hopper suddenly looked to the right and gestured. “Guards, bring up the prisoner!”
Two burly guards walked onto the stage, carrying in between them a man wearing a cloth bag over his head. The bag completely hid the man’s features and the generic orange prison jumpsuit he wore made it impossible to tell who he was.
“A prisoner?” Lauren repeated under her breath. “Who could it possibly be?”
“One of your friends?” Beams muttered back.
“Can’t be,” said Lauren with a gulp. “If one of us Dissidents got caught, we would know. Genius would have told us.”
But Lauren didn’t sound very confident about that. Beams figured that Lauren didn’t handle unexpected developments in a plan very well if at all. But there was nothing they could do until they found out who, exactly, had been caught.
“Do you see this man?” said Hopper, gesturing at the masked man who was kneeling on the stage next to him. “He is one of the infamous Dissidents and a notoriously vile one at that. He is well-known for having destroyed dozens of Sagan statues, twelve in the last year alone, as well as harming and killing many peace officers who tried to stop him. But I am pleased to announce that he has finally been captured and that today he shall finally face the justice that a bigot like him deserves.”
“Statues?” Lauren muttered. Her eyes widened. “It can’t be …”
“Guards, remove the mask,” said Hopper, gesturing at the prisoner. “Let the world see the face of the most infamous Dissident ever!”
One of the guards reached over and ripped the mask off the prisoner’s face. Lauren gasped and clutched Beams’ arm unusually hard. Even Beams himself could not believe what he was staring at.
He was staring up into the face of Kevin Jason, also known as the superhero Bolt.
CHAPTER NINE
Bolt and Shade followed the Silent Shadow through the empty halls of Albert Monsoon’s mansion. The halls were exactly what you’d expect a rich man like Monsoon would have. The floors were tiled with expensive-looking vinyl, the walls were covered with gold-framed high art, and gigantic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing excellent light. The windows were also open, revealing Monsoon’s massive personal tennis court and swimming pool out in the backyard. In the distance, Bolt could see lights from Golden City, shining brightly in the darkness of the night.
As it turned out, Albert Monsoon’s mansion was located well outside of town. The Silent Shadow explained that this was because Monsoon preferred his privacy, so he had had his massive mansion built about a mile or so outside of the city limits. He’d also built a huge wall around it, covered the wall with barb wire, and even had a personal security team who patrolled the mansion 24/7.
“But he doesn’t just have guards,” the Silent Shadow had said. “He’s also big into technology, so he’s got AI security systems that work with the human security team to double up security. But don’t worry about the robot guards. As long as you two stay with me, neither the AI nor the humans will give you a hard time.”
So far, the Silent Shadow had turned out to be correct, because when they arrived at the mansion, the three of them were let beyond the gates as soon as the Silent Shadow flashed some kind of identification card to the fat guard at the gates. Even so, Bolt was well aware of the cameras hanging from the ceiling, which seemed to follow their every move. He knew it was s
illy to be so worried when Monsoon had specifically invited him and Shade to his mansion, but the fact was that neither he nor Shade had any friends or allies in this world and he wasn’t entirely convinced that Monsoon could be trusted yet despite the fact that he saved them.
“Fancy,” said Shade as they passed a silver water drinking fountain. “Where did he get all this money?”
“Mr. Monsoon is an entrepreneur,” said the Silent Shadow. “He founded McCoy Robotics about thirty years ago with his business partner, Jonah McCoy, who the business is named after. McCoy Robotics sells all sorts of robotics-related things to governments, companies, and countries all over the world, but they specialize in making robotic tech for superheroes. You can make a LOT of money serving superheroes, especially since they tend to break their equipment pretty often due to the dangers of their businesses.”
“Neat,” said Shade. “Are we going to meet this Jonah McCoy guy, too?”
“Unfortunately, no,” said the Silent Shadow, shaking her head. “Mr. McCoy died about ten years ago when he got lung cancer from smoking so much. I wasn’t there—that was before my time—but I did read some newspaper articles about it. Kind of depressing, because Mr. McCoy seemed like a good man, very generous and charitable toward others.”
“What about Monsoon?” said Bolt. “Would you describe him as good?”
The Silent Shadow did not look at Bolt. “He’s who he is. You take him or leave him, but in my experience, Mr. Monsoon has never cheated me out of the money he owes me and is generally pretty fair toward all his workers. He can be a bit … abrasive, but he’s not bad.”
Bolt noticed that the Silent Shadow did not use the word ‘good’ to describe Mr. Monsoon. She used a lot of words, but she didn’t really answer his question. Clearly, the Silent Shadow did not want to judge her boss, at least not explicitly. Bolt wondered why that was.
Maybe, like Rubberman, she’s afraid of offending her boss, Bolt thought.