Rise of the Heroes (13 page)

“But in the meantime, we have to get our mom. And
quickly,
” Toby reminded her. He tapped the small diabetes kit he now kept with him all the time. “And I don't see how any of this helps.”

“It all helps,” said Emily, shifting her attention back to the screen. “It means that this Web site has some structure, like the job board. Which means there must be some blog or some way to share info. Aha!”

Emily clicked one of the top icons—and everybody took a wary step away from the screen, just in case. The image changed to a rolling list of text entries, and a prominent “search” box.

“Here we go,” said Emily with a broad grin. “A blog. That icon looks like a finger hitting a key.” The others looked dubiously at it. “Well, it does if you look hard enough.”

Pete patted Emily on the shoulder as he read the entries. He didn't notice Emily nervously tense up.

“Good thinking, Em,” said Pete. There were dozens of entries from an assortment of users with peculiar names: Sergeant Power, Capman, Thunder Girl. And each had a few descriptive lines underneath that revealed a world of information—heroes spying on villains and reporting on the latest evil team-ups, schemes, and whereabouts. There was a
lot
going on in the world. Pete pointed at a blog halfway down the screen. “There! Click on it!”

Emily dutifully followed. It was an entry labeled “DOC TEMPEST” from somebody called Chameleon. The blog unfolded into a short paragraph that Pete read out.

“Alerted by movement from Doc Tempest. Suspect involvement with the renegade Basilisk—sources indicate Tempest is selling him out to the COE. Tempest on the move for Council approval in one hour fifty-five minutes.” Pete pushed his glasses firmly up his nose. “What the heck does all that mean?”

“What's the Council?” asked Lorna. “Or Basilisk?”

“They're code words,” said Pete with sudden confidence. The others looked at him quizzically. “If this Chameleon guy won't use his real name, then he'll probably use codes for everything else.”

“Maybe,” said Emily. The time on the screen slowly counted down. She circled the mouse pointer around the bottom of the message. “You missed this part. Says ‘click for map coordinates.'”

As she did a new window appeared showing the world from space. The globe swiveled around and zoomed toward an area in the Caribbean. Beaches, fields, and small towns became visible as the image continued magnifying until a rural town filled the screen—a single field highlighted.

“Well, we know where Doc Tempest is going to be,” said Toby firmly. “This time he won't escape.”

“Let's power up,” said Pete, eagerly rubbing his hands together.

The superpower page was different this time. A small window had appeared, cascading into English to display a set of instructions. Lorna read through it:

“Now that you have been fully initiated into Hero.com your trial period is over. You have earned two HEROISM POINTS each, allowing the download of two powers per hero for a maximum of twenty-four hours! Further powers may be purchased: Hero.com accepts Visa and MasterCard.”

“Purchased?” Toby shrieked.

“Knew it,” said Lorna triumphantly. “Dad always says you get nothing for free!”

“What are you talking about?” said Pete. “We each got heroism points for free!”

“That was for stopping Tempest's bank robbery,” Emily pointed out. “Does that mean if we fail, we don't get any points?”

“Maybe it's like levels; the more heroic stuff you do, the more you get to download?”

“Excellent!” said Pete, who hoped that cleaning his room would earn him something, even if his parents never bothered to ask him to do it.

“We don't have time to debate this,” Lorna said. “We've got two powers and the clock is ticking!”

“At least we have these powers longer than an hour this time,” said Pete.

“I think we should all choose flying as one,” Lorna said. “We have to get there, after all.”

“Okay, I'll go first,” said Emily. “Um … which one is flying? We didn't have to choose it last time.”

“Remember, there
is
some logic to this site,” said Lorna.

Emily glided through the pictographs on-screen, before settling on one they all agreed must be flying. Her finger hesitated over the mouse. She turned to Toby. “And this time, you better pick something useful!”

Then she clicked the mouse.

The flight was peaceful enough once they had lifted above the cover of the clouds. The blue skies beyond allowed the sun to shine pleasantly down on them.

Before they left, Pete had run off to change into a wetsuit he'd had when he was younger, and thus,
smaller. The neoprene material was stretched to breaking point to cover him. He'd also found a cape from an old fancy costume and a pair of blue prescription swimming goggles he used as a mask. When he'd modeled his new superhero outfit to the others, they had wasted precious moments curled up giggling. He looked like a complete idiot.

Now he was paying the price. As the sun heated the suit, he began to sweat profusely. He'd already had to lose the cape, as the wind pulled it so tight it had nearly choked him, and his mask had slipped off too.

The team had overlooked one important factor. They had assumed that by flying, they would be there fast. But that happened in the movies. It turned out, even at full speed, which seemed as fast as a bullet to them, it had taken almost two hours to reach their destination. At one point, they had to land to consult local signs to ensure they were heading in the right direction. But at the very least, that had improved their landing and taking-off skills.

They arrived at sunset. From the air they could see that the field was no longer empty—a large, circular metallic building was sitting there. Confused, Toby checked a map they had printed from the Web that showed the ocean to the south and the layout of the village, with its old church and small houses on a hill. They were in the right place.

The team landed on the edge of the village and kept concealed behind an old stone wall. They stealthily crossed the dusty road, ducking behind another wall just as a pair of Tempest's soldiers marched down the street. Their footsteps echoed from the buildings, and the heroes all held their breath as the men passed a few feet away.

Toby indicated with swift hand gestures that they should head around the back of a barn and into a grove of ancient cedars. They kept low and silent as they ran. Old war movies came to Pete's mind as they slipped behind another pair of guards who were talking animatedly about sports cars.

Hiding in the trees, the children now were sheltered from being spotted by the henchmen.

Toby turned his attention to the building in the field, and gasped. From ground level it was obvious the structure was actually an aircraft of some kind, supported on six massive landing legs that pushed into the field. The diameter of the craft was three times as long as any jumbo jet Toby had ever seen.

“Wow!” whispered Pete. “It's like a giant flying saucer!” Gentle vents of steam rolled from outlets across the undercarriage. Two guards stood at attention at the bottom of a boarding ramp that vanished into the belly of the machine.

“I see only one way in,” said Emily.

“You think Mom's in there?'

Toby shrugged. Then they heard a new voice.

“I'm afraid that she's not.”

Everybody spun around, ready to unleash their superpowers. A young man with a pale face and jetblack hair, which was oddly laced with snow, studied them carefully. He shook more snow off his long black trench coat, the warm Caribbean air melting it quickly.

“Who are you?” Toby demanded.

“And why are you covered in snow?” Pete asked, more than a little perplexed.

The stranger raised his hands in a friendly gesture. “Relax, I'm with you. I'm known as Chameleon. And to answer your other question I've just teleported in from Russia. I assure you it's
very
cold there.”

They noticed scratches on his face and his nose seemed to be a little askew. With a jarring crack, Chameleon's nose realigned itself and his scars faded.

Toby was impressed. “Wow, healing. That's a good power to have.”

“Unfortunately, you still feel the pain. My apologies, I didn't mean to alarm you. But I was hit by a truck before I left.” He ignored their skeptical glances. “Unless I'm very much mistaken, you came here because of Hero.com?”

Everybody relaxed except Pete, who eyed the
stranger suspiciously. Chameleon approached them with a calculating look. “I've been tracking a network of supervillains for some time. It appears Doc Tempest is involved with a breakaway faction of the Council of Evil. Specifically a devious villain named Basilisk, who is upsetting a lot of people on both sides of the fence.” He indicated the ship. “That's why the Council has summoned Tempest here—to explain himself. He won't allow the Council of Evil direct communication with his base for fear they will try and shut down his operation. And they certainly don't want Tempest turning up at their headquarters. Wherever that is. That's something we'd love to discover,” he added dreamily.

Lorna glanced at the ship. She noticed that there was a large triangular emblem on the side of the craft with a stylized letter “C” in the middle. Chameleon detected his audience's confusion.

“You haven't been doing this too long, have you? Didn't you read the site's instructions file? I know it's a lengthy tome, but it's all there.”

“Instructions?” said Pete, finally letting his guard down. Chameleon blinked in surprise, and he held back a laugh. “Don't tell me you've been making it all up as you go? That's a new one! Ha-ha …”

Pete looked abashed, but Lorna stepped forward. She felt angry that this new guy was mocking them.

“We've done pretty well against Doc Tempest on our own so far. So if you're just going to stand there and criticize us, then you can get lost! My mom's been taken by that freak and if he's in there, I want answers!”

Chameleon bowed slightly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend.” He studied the group as though reappraising them. “And if you've fought Doc Tempest before and survived …” He noticed the fresh scar on Toby's head and tapped it with his finger. The scar healed, the stitches melting away and leaving nothing but smooth skin. Ignoring their looks of astonishment, Chameleon continued, “ … then you certainly are talented. If you want to question Tempest, then I suggest we board the ship and do it there.”

“Shouldn't we wait until he comes out?” asked Toby. “His men are patrolling the area, but they are not allowed on the Council's ship. There is little security on board, since none of the Council of Evil is actually present. Plus, they will want to get out of here as fast as possible because they know the Enforcers are heading this way now.”

“The Enforcers?” asked Toby.

“They're an elite group of soldiers. Created by the United Nations and trained to combat supervillains and rogue heroes. They have a wealth of technological gizmos at their disposal, but alas, none of them possess superpowers and have to resort to more
conventional means of travel. Which is why they have not yet arrived. The Council chooses its landing places entirely at random, which also throws the Enforcers off balance.”

“Why don't they just download the powers like we did?” asked Toby.

“The Enforcers are soldiers. Trained in killing. They're not the type of people you want downloading such powers. They've been following Tempest for the last year but his movements have been erratic, therefore unpredictable.”

“What is this Council?” Emily asked.

“The Council of Evil, it's all in the FAQ,” Chameleon replied, a little testily.

Pete and Lorna looked daunted. There was obviously more to this superhero venture than they'd suspected. As usually, Emily was a little quicker on the uptake.

“So the Council is a ruling group of villains?”

“Exactly. Some of the most twisted minds the world has ever seen.”

“Do you have a plan for getting in there?” asked Toby, returning his gaze to the huge ship.

“That's the easy part,” said Chameleon.

Chameleon's face began to change. The skin moved fluidly until his face resembled one of the guards, tinted visor and all. Chameleon's entire body wavered as it morphed. His long black trench coat shrank and warped into the uniform of Tempest's guards. One of
his hands had changed shape and texture and looked like a resin-rifle.

“Now I know where you get your name from,” Emily said in awe.

“Wow!” Pete couldn't stop staring. “That's an awesome power. I have to try that. Can you turn into famous people too?”

Chameleon arched an eyebrow. “Yes. The power's online. I should know—I donated it.” Lorna nudged Toby in the ribs. Chameleon had proved her point about the origin of the powers. “Now we can walk through the front door. I just need one of you to volunteer as a prisoner.”

Gnats buzzed around the guards at the foot of the ramp. The weather was oppressively warm, even as the sun sank and they were in the shade afforded by the craft above them. They irritably swatted the flies and hoped they would be leaving soon for cooler climates.

Movement from across the field caught their attention. Another soldier was escorting a young boy wearing glasses, and oddly, a wetsuit. The boy had his hands over his head and a resin-rifle pushed him along.

The ramp guard nodded toward the boy as they approached. “What did you find?”

“This creep was sneaking around the perimeter. Thought Tempest might want to have a word with him.”

“He's just a kid.”

“Naw, he's a Super.”

At the mention of the word “Super,” both men gripped their rifles tighter and became instantly more alert.