by R. L. Ullman
He kneels beside me, and whispers, “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I whisper back.
“Where the blazes were you?” Dad asks.
“In the sewers. I-I chased Alligazer down there. But he got away.”
“You chased Alligazer?” Dad says surprised. “You found Alligazer?”
“Yeah,” I answer, my head still woozy. “We had a big fight in the sewer. Hey, did you know there are rats like, five times the size of TechnocRat down there?”
“Forget that,” Dad says. “Why didn’t you call us?”
“I … I don’t know,” I answer. “I didn’t want to lose him. And I wanted to make a difference.”
Dad rubs his face with his hands. “Oh, you made a difference alright. But not in the way you were hoping for.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I’m guessing Alligazer popped out of that manhole two minutes before you did,” he says.
“Yeah, I figured,” I say. “But how’d you know that?”
“It’s pretty obvious,” Dad says, turning away from me, “because only he could leave behind something like that.”
Like what?
I sit up and look over to see what Dad’s all worked up about, when I notice another statue.
But it’s not just any statue.
It’s Makeshift!
I HANG UP MY TIGHTS
I totally messed up.
So while the rest of the team loads Makeshift into the cargo hold, I climb into the Freedom Flyer and slump into my chair. I know I should have helped, but I couldn’t bear to look at Makeshift’s petrified face.
Not after what I’ve done.
When the team finally boards the jet, no one even looks my way. Instead, they take their places, and we rocket home. My eyes are glued to Makeshift’s seat. It’s empty now, and it’s all my fault.
The ride back is awkwardly silent. The team is probably thinking of ways to console me. They’ll probably tell me everything’s okay—that it was an accident—that these are the risks you take in this line of work.
But I know better.
Makeshift is gone because of me.
Deep down, I’m sure they’re wondering if they can trust me. And how can I blame them? I seem to screw up royally over and over again. Who knows who I’ll hurt next?
I can already guess what Mom and Dad will say. Despite saving the world twice, they’ll tell me I’m still too green for this. They’ll tell me I’ll be taking a break for a while—a long, long while.
But I won’t give them the chance.
As soon as we dock on the Waystation and deboard the Freedom Flyer, I make an announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, effective immediately I’m retiring from the Freedom Force—for good.”
Then, I hand Dad my utility belt and head straight for my room.
“Elliott, wait!” Mom calls after me, but I pretend not to hear her.
Dog-Gone pads softly behind me, whimpering the whole way. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but when we reach my room I tell him I need to be alone, and shut the door. Then I peel off my sewer-infested bodysuit, hop into the shower, and ball my eyes out.
I still can’t believe what happened. I never thought Alligazer would get away. I never thought Makeshift would be turned to stone. I thought I was doing the right thing—the heroic thing.
But I’m clearly not hero material.
Instead, I’m a hazard—a moving violation—a risk to society. So, I really have no choice but to give up caped crusading. For everyone’s sake.
Tomorrow, I’ll ask Mom to re-enroll me at Keystone Middle School and go back to the ordinary life of a run-of-the-mill 6th grader. No more hunting supervillains. No more putting lives in jeopardy. No more bonehead mistakes.
I towel off, and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is wet and soggy, my eyes red from crying. Yep, starting tomorrow, I’ll be your typical anonymous tween-ager.
Instead of heroically responding to Meta alerts, I’ll be plowing through homework. Instead of squaring off against supervillains, I’ll be dodging bullies. Yep, doesn’t that sound just awesome?
Or should I say awful?
I throw on some sweats and flop onto my bed. Awful is right. But this is my new life, so I’d better get used to it. I start counting ceiling tiles when—
BANG, BANG!
There’s a knock at my door.
“No one’s home!” I shout.
“Hey!” Grace yells. “Open up.”
Grace? What’s she doing here?
“C’mon, Elliott,” she says, knocking again. “Let me in, or I’ll get Master Mime to bust it open.”
“Fine!” I answer, rolling off my bed. “What do you want?” But I suspect I already know the answer. Whenever I screw up, I can always count on Grace to rub my nose in it.
I swing the door open to find her standing there with her arms crossed. Her mask is off, and her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail “To talk,” she says, striding in and sitting on the end of my bed.
“Well, then,” I say, slamming the door shut. “Talk.”
“Listen, squirt,” she says. “I know you feel horrible about what happened to Makeshift, but you can’t just give up. You’re a superhero—a member of the Freedom Force, for Pete’s sake. It’s not your fault. Bad stuff like that is just gonna happen.”
Hang on. Is she trying to console me?
“Look, you didn’t do that to Makeshift,” she continues. “That Alligazer creep did.”
“But it’s my fault,” I say. “I mean, I didn’t call you guys for help when I should have. I thought I could do it on my own. And … I couldn’t. I just keep thinking ‘what if?’ What if I did call for help?”
“Elliott,” Grace says. “You could ‘what if’ yourself to death. Okay, what if you did call us? Maybe this whole thing wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe you’d be turned to stone right now.”
“That’d be fine with me,” I mutter. “I deserve it.”
“Look,” she says, standing up, “there’s no how-to manual on being a hero. In this business, anything can happen. You just have to do what you think is right, and most of the time, it turns out okay. But there’s one thing you can’t do, and that’s give up—especially on yourself.”
She lifts my chin with her finger, and forces me to look into her blue eyes. “Okay?”
I fake a smile and say, “I’ll think about it.”
“Great,” she says. “But do yourself a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t watch TV.” Then she winks and let’s herself out, closing the door behind her.
I start pacing. Look, I appreciate what she’s saying, but I really don’t think I can do this anymore. I mean, I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. And what did she mean by don’t watch TV?
Oh, no!
I throw open the door and bolt down the hall to the Lounge. Blue Bolt and Master Mime are relaxing on the sofa with their feet propped up on a leather ottoman.
They’re watching the news.
A square-jawed reporter looks straight to camera with a smug expression and says, “And if you’ve been living under a rock, and haven’t seen these images from today’s Keystone Savings Bank fiasco, you may want to sit down for this one.”
Then, it cuts to an image of Makeshift. He’s petrified, his arms blocking his face. A field reporter begins to narrate, “Today, a villain known as Alligazer destroyed Keystone Savings Bank, and turned twenty five people at the scene into statues—including this superhero who has been identified as Makeshift, an apprentice of the Freedom Force.”
Suddenly, the camera pans down to a brown, gloppy mess clinging to Makeshift’s stone leg.
“While the Freedom Force were on the scene, they were unable to apprehend Alligazer. However, they did manage to capture his accomplice who emerged from the sewer system.”
His accomplice? Who’s that?
The camera pans
in on the mystery accomplice’s dirty face.
Wait a minute! That’s me!
“At this time, the identity of this criminal has not been disclosed,” the reporter continues. “But those of us in the media are referring to him as Stink Bug because—well, we’ll let you draw your own conclusions. It’s assumed the Freedom Force have transferred him to Lockdown where—”
“Turn it off!” I yell, startling Blue Bolt and Master Mime.
“Hey there, Stink Bug,” Blue Bolt says with a smile.
“Not funny,” I snap.
“Whoa, sorry,” Blue Bolt says. “I was just teasing.”
Master Mime flicks his wrist and a giant, purple peace sign magically appears.
“Elliott,” Blue Bolt says. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? Of course, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault!”
But before they can respond, I’m off. I just want to be alone. My stomach rumbles and I realize I haven’t eaten in hours. All the food is in the Galley, and I hope no one’s around so I can grab a snack and head back to my Fortress of Solitude, otherwise known as my room.
But no such luck.
Shadow Hawk is sitting at the table, polishing off one of his trademark peanut butter and banana sandwiches. “Hey, kid,” he says. “Want one?”
“No,” I say, salivating. “Well, maybe.”
“My pleasure,” he says, popping the last bite into his mouth. He rises and heads over to the counter. “How are you holding up?”
“Honestly,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Not so hot.” Here we go again. The last thing I want right now is more sympathy.
“I understand,” Shadow Hawk says, unpeeling a banana. He reaches into his utility belt, flicks open a Hawk-knife, and dices the banana like a master chef. “After all, what happened to Makeshift was your fault.”
Wait, what? Did he just say it was my fault!
“You were irresponsible,” he says, spreading peanut butter onto the bread. “And I expected more from you.”
What? I’m taken aback! I’m speechless! Flabbergasted! How dare he! What happened to the sympathy? Doesn’t he care how I feel right now?
“What’s wrong?” he says, reading my expression. He washes off the Hawk-knife, closes it, and puts it back into his utility belt. Then he hands me my sandwich. “Being a superhero is a big responsibility. Innocent lives are at stake. Heroes lives are at stake. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, if you don’t think you’re up for the job, giving up the suit is the right decision.”
I swallow hard. I-I don’t know what to say.
Then, he puts his gloved hand on my shoulder. “But I’ve seen you in action. I know you’ve got what it takes. Listen, real superheroes don’t run away from their mistakes. They own up to them so they don’t do them again next time. Take some time to think about what you could have done differently. Then, pick yourself up and put on the cape again. But don’t wait too long. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I got it.”
“Great,” he grins.
Suddenly, the Meta Monitor’s alarm goes wild, “Alert! Alert! Alert! Meta 2 disturbance. Power signature identified as Blood Sport! Alert! Alert! Alert!”
Shadow Hawk winks. “Why don’t you sit this one out.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks for the sandwich.”
“Enjoy it,” he says, and then he exits.
I meander through the halls, chewing on both the sandwich and what Shadow Hawk said. It was like a slap in the face, but one I needed. Of course, he’s right—he’s always right. I mean, all I’ve ever wanted is to be a superhero. If I’m ever going to get out there again, I’ll need to get over this.
Which means there’s something I need to do, no matter how painful it’s going to be.
I’m already in the West Wing, so I hang a left and slowly make my way over to an area I’d rather not be—TechnocRat’s laboratory.
The white doors slide open, revealing a large, sunken chamber, and my senses immediately kick into overload. Every square inch of wall is lined with beakers, test tubes, and vials of various sizes and colors. Large, cylindrical chambers run from floor to ceiling, bubbling with strange gaseous substances. Black tables fill the center, covered with microscopes, computer monitors, circuits, and assorted machinery. It’s a nerd’s paradise.
Needless to say, the disaster that is TechnocRat’s laboratory drives Dad batty. TechnocRat loves bringing him in here to help with his experiments and watch him twitch. I know Dad just wants to get a garbage bag and clean everything up, but he can’t risk spoiling one of TechnocRat’s inventions. It’s a funny little game they play. I guess they’re like the odd couple of superheroes.
I move past a cart of electromagnetic, worm-like thingies, and head towards the back—to the reason why I’m here in the first place. I find him in the corner, hooked up to a network of monitoring equipment.
Makeshift.
I reach out and touch his arm. It’s cold—and solid. I hate myself for not having the guts to face him before.
Or to apologize.
“Hi, buddy” I say, “Can you hear me?”
I look up at the overhead monitor, but all his vitals are flat-lined. I wonder if he’s still in there. If he can hear me somehow, but just can’t respond.
“I-I’m sorry,” I say, as a tear streams down my cheek. “I didn’t know this was going to happen to you. I hope you can forgive me.”
But there’s no response.
“If you’re still in there. If you can hear me, just give me a sign.”
WHOOSH!
Instinctively, I duck, as a warm sensation crosses my body. What the heck was that?
I step back and look at Makeshift, but he hasn’t budged. Then, I notice something glaring bright outside the porthole.
It’s a trail.
A fiery trail!
I follow its path. It looks like it came from deep space—and it’s heading straight for Earth!
Then, I realize I’ve seen a trail like that before, and my heart sinks to my toes.
I know exactly who it belongs to.
The Herald!
I CAUSE AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT
I scribble down a note for my parents, grab a fresh costume out of the Equipment Room, tip-toe around a snoozing Dog-Gone in the hallway, and then hit the Hangar.
Within seconds, I’m piloting a Freedom Ferry through space, hot on the Herald’s trail. So many things are flying through my brain I don’t know where to begin. I mean, the last time I saw the Herald, he descended upon a planet named Protaraan, and marked it for destruction by a globe-eating creature called Ravager—the Annihilator of Worlds!
I’ve been afraid something like this might happen ever since Siphon destroyed Order and Chaos back on Arena World. Once those two cosmic brothers were gone, no one was left to control that planet-gobbling monster. It was only a matter of time before Ravager showed up to destroy someone’s world. I just never thought it would be mine!
I mean, recently I learned there are all of these other universes out there! Mirror universes, like the one Grace 2 lives in. And somehow, out of all of those, Ravager’s chosen mine.
Why do I have all the luck?
Fortunately, the Herald may be the worst hide-and-seek player in the multiverse. His trail is brighter than the sun. But being easy to track is one thing, catching up to him is quite another. I mean, the guy can really motor!
According to the Freedom Ferry’s monitor, I enter Earth’s atmosphere somewhere over Asia. I pick up the Herald’s path weaving through mountains, and then jetting across the ocean. It looks like he’s now somewhere over Japan.
As far as I’m concerned, my job is simple. First, catch him. Second, get him off the planet. Seems pretty straightforward. I only see one little hiccup.
I’ve got no clue how to do that.
Not too long ago I was kidnapped by the Zodiac, a band of alien, teenage vigilantes, because the
y thought I had the Orb of Oblivion—the only object capable of destroying Ravager. Even though I didn’t know it at the time, they were right. I did have the Orb. It was buried inside of me. But Siphon pulled it out when he absorbed my powers, and then used it to destroy Order and Chaos. Now the Orb is gone.
And I’m on my own.
So much for early retirement.
I follow the Herald’s trail through a cluster of thick clouds, and when I come out the other side, it’s clear I won’t be chasing him much farther.
Because he’s waiting for me.
The heat blast comes fast and furious. I try to pull up, but it catches my left wing full on, bursting it into flames. I activate the exterior cooling jets to extinguish it, but when the foamy liquid clears, my wing is still burning! Whatever he’s hit me with isn’t standard-issue fire! And the flames are creeping towards the cockpit!
My sensors are going nuts, so I check the radar to find even more bad news.
He’s on my tail!
I spin the Freedom Ferry as another heat blast shoots over my right wing. I’ve got to lose this creep and fast! But how? I’m a sitting duck in the open sky.
Looking below, I see a giant expanse of water—wonderful fire-extinguishing water.
I push the yoke forward and nose drive straight for the ocean, switching the Freedom Ferry to amphibious mode. Then, I brace myself for impact.
SPLASH!
The Freedom Flyer knifes through the water, diving deep so he can’t spot me from the air. I check the radar again and this time there’s no sign of the Herald. I’ve lost him! Whew!
Then I check my wing, fully expecting the fire to be snuffed out, but it’s not! Giant flames are still crackling away! But how’s that possible?
Suddenly, I’m blinded by an intense burst of light. Instinctively, I hit the brakes. What’s going on? For a few seconds all I see are spots, but when my vision clears I’m faced with something I’m not expecting.
Floating five feet in front of my ship is the Herald! He’s breathing underwater and still very, very much on fire.
If I don’t beg for mercy I’m cooked! I scan the control panel and flip on the external communications system. But before I can speak, I hear—
“I know you, little one.”