The Adventures of Kid Combat Volume One: A Secret Lost (5 page)

Wedge and Timmy arrived next. They were
reconnaissance and telecommunications experts. It ran in their
blood. For generations, the men in their family were mechanical
engineers. Timmy followed closely in their footsteps. He could
always be found reading books on the subject or studying blueprints
of various devices. He also spent a good amount of this time taking
his toys apart, just to see how they were made. Wedge, on the other
hand, was better at getting himself into trouble than much of
anything else.

Wedge, whose real name was William, was a
whopping two minutes older than Timmy, and he let his twin hear
about it all the time. They were fraternal twins, and although they
had most of the same physical attributes—height, weight, skin
color—Wedge had blond hair, while Timmy’s was nice and red. Wedge
was definitely the smart aleck of the two. Timmy was more quiet and
timid. The two were inseparable, and they shared that unique twin
bond. And even though Wedge would never admit it, he looked out for
his brother every second of the day, whether it was fending off
bullies or helping him with school work.

The boys stood in the doorway. The smart
aleck was first to speak.

“All right, boys, we can start now that I’m
here,” Wedge said with a half smile. “What are we getting ourselves
into now?”

“Sit down, you two. I’ll go over the whole
thing,” Kid said.

The boys sat around the makeshift table as
Kid went over what he and Samantha pieced together earlier that
day—how Jones was getting close to finding out that SOCKs existed,
how he and his men almost discovered Kid the night before, and how
Samantha believed Jones was going to expose SOCKs somehow.

The three other boys sat back and took it all
in. They too knew that keeping SOCKs a secret was imperative. Gears
spoke up.

“What do we do now, Kid?”

“We need to find out what he knows,” Kid
said. “It’s imperative that we monitor his actions and his
team.”

“I’m sick of tracking Jones around town,”
Wedge said, kicking a comic book across the floor. “That’s all we
ever seem to do nowadays. Doesn’t this man have anything better to
do than pick on us kids?”

“Apparently not,” his brother blurted out.
“Don’t worry, Kid, we’ll get the info for you.”

“This is a fantastic way to try out my new
triangulator,” Gears said. “I’ve been dying to try it out.”

He got up and walked across the room toward
the back wall. He pushed a small knot in the wood on the third
board from the right. Just below the knot, a small drawer appeared
from nowhere. He rifled through the drawer for a moment and pulled
out a small object.

“Here it is,” Gears said as he held up the
object. “My new triangulator is much smaller than my last one. It’s
about the size of a pen cap, but half the depth. Plus, one side has
a super sticky epoxy on it, so it will stick to any surface. It
will be perfect for following Jones.”

Gears put the object down on the table and
started banging away on his keyboard. “Each one has a different RF
signal and a range of about two miles. It can be tracked right here
on my laptop or with this remote,” he added as he tapped the cover
of his laptop.

“The only problem is getting close enough to
put it on him,” Kid said.

“That’s were me and Timmy come in,” Wedge
said. “Give us the do-hickey. We’ll get it on the old man.” Wedge
stretched out his arm, opening and closing his hand
impatiently.

Gears passed Wedge the device, and with an
inquisitive look, Wedge looked at the foreign object. He flipped it
over and over again, as if trying to comprehend how it worked.

“The sooner we get that planted on him, the
better,” Kid said. “We need to figure out what his plan is.”

“Don’t worry, Kid. You’ll have it by
tomorrow,” Timmy replied.

“All right,” Gears said. “Well, radio me as
soon as you get it on him. Then I can start tracking him.”

From somewhere outside, they heard a very
faint voice calling, “Kyyyyyyyyle … Kyyyyyyyyyle …”

“Great. That’s my mom,” Kid said. “Time to
get home. I’ll be waiting to hear from you boys tomorrow.”

Kid climbed down from the tree house, and
soon after, the rest followed. They all dispersed for the evening
and waited for the following day, when they each would begin their
assignments.

Chapter Four:

Introduction of Evil

8:00 am

A TV flickered and fluttered in the corner of
a spacious area that resembled a living room. Dark red walls
engulfed the room, which was decorated from top to bottom with
artifacts from around the world—paintings, animal heads, spears.
Dividing this madness of antiquities were white posts scaling from
the floor to the vaulted ceiling.

In the middle of the room stood a man in his
late sixties. Being of average height and weight, he had thinning
gray hair and wore a well-pressed suit. It was Phillip Arthur
Jones. He was anxiously waiting for the morning news to return from
commercial and launch into an in-depth story on himself.

Jones was a man of great stature in this tiny
community. A self-made multimillionaire by thirty, Jones quickly
rose to power. He was the president of Jones Industries, the
leading real estate company in town. One by one, he bought small
chunks of land and developed huge houses, stores, banks, and
whatever else he dreamed up. But that wasn’t enough.

A master manipulator, Jones used his
charismatic ways to win the hearts of the townspeople, never
displaying his true self. A liar, a cheat, and a thief, Jones won
most of his deals by making false promises and forging documents.
His companies were always plagued with random firings, governmental
inquiries, and people turning up missing. Jones’s presence was felt
and feared by all who worked for him.

The companies that made millions of dollars
for him weren’t enough. By the age of forty, he used his power to
gain pull in city office. He ran for mayor and won without a
problem. From there, he dictated and manipulated the town by
quickly passing bills that would benefit Jones Industries and
conceal lies it kept behind company doors.

By fifty, he had become so enraptured with
power that he forwent running for another term in office and
concentrated solely on his businesses and his number one
passion—power. Jones learned while in office that he had to
constantly make sacrifices and trade-offs to keep the people happy.
He didn’t like that. He wanted to do what he wanted when he
wanted.

By age sixty, Jones owned half the town.
Elmcrest was his playground. His reforms in government, law, and
the local businesses were unmistakable. He taught the town about
art, architecture, engineering, law, and enterprise. The town
started to thrive on his teachings and centered its entire economy
on Jones and his businesses. That was exactly what he had hoped
for. Soon, he was the town. He became responsible for all new real
estate developments, residential and business, and for bringing the
town into the next century. Phillip Arthur Jones was the most
powerful man in Elmcrest. The only thing that was more powerful
than Jones—was his ego.

As Jones paced, waiting for the daily reports
of his financial status, the news finally returned from
commercial.

This is it, he thought. Jones had been
waiting a long time for this day. This was the day he would unveil
one of his greatest accomplishments, and nothing stood in his way.
He could almost taste the power and the profit. He watched the TV
with great enthusiasm. The news was going to feature him, as it did
most days, but this newscast would report on the big event he had
planned for later in the day. It was to be spectacular—he had been
planning it for months.

“Welcome back to Central News Station,” the
news anchor said. Jones turned up the volume with his remote
control and hung on every word. He loved the spotlight almost as
much as he loved his money.

“In local news, we have a special treat for
our viewers,” the anchor announced, and Jones felt himself
straighten up with pride. His chest puffed out as he waited for his
big moment. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

“That’s right, Caroline,” the co-anchor said.
“We break away from our regularly scheduled story about Phillip
Arthur Jones and focus on the phenomenon of the secretive kid known
only as Kid Combat.”

Jones turned from ecstatic to puzzled.

“It seems this kid is everywhere,” the
co-anchor continued, “and still nobody seems to know who he is
…”

At that moment, Two walked in. He was wearing
his standard black suit and was full of cheer as he brought in the
daily newspaper, along with some refreshments, for his boss.

“Good morning, sir. I have your—”

Jones extended his arm out to the side with
one finger up, silencing his second in command. His head didn’t
even turn from the TV, and Two knew better than to say another
word. Jones’s facial expressions got worse with every word the
reporter spoke.

“The details are still very sketchy and are
still coming in, but the whole town is buzzing on who this kid is.
And we now learn—though it is not confirmed—there may be more of
them. Kid Combat certainly has become the buzz of this town, and it
looks like that will continue for quite some time, possibly until
someone uncovers the mystery of who this kid really is. We will be
staying with this story all morning, but first these messages,”
finished the reporter. The screen went black as an alerted and
obviously troubled Jones picked up the remote in haste and quickly
turned off the TV.

“No one outshines Phillip Arthur Jones,” he
thought out loud. And for weeks now, Kid Combat had done exactly
that. Before that day, it was nothing more than small blurbs on
page seven of the local paper. Or, maybe a quick comment nestled
between the weather report and the town’s daily gossip. That day
was different. Kid Combat stole the spotlight from him. This did
not sit well with Jones.

“I own this town, not him,” Jones said in a
low mumble. The rage was beginning to build inside his fragile
frame.

A few awkward, silent moments passed as Jones
once again began to pace the room. He was visibly upset, and Two
just stood there in obvious horror waiting for instructions.

Jones’s fist clenched at his side. He hated
Kid Combat. He hated him since the first time he heard of the boy.
It had been a few years earlier during an incident involving the
town’s favorite park, Maple Forest. Jones saw the park as an
excellent opportunity to make money. As a park, it was nothing more
than wasted land, in his opinion. A few trees, a baseball diamond,
no real value to anyone, he thought.

Jones wanted that land. He wanted it bad. It
was acres and acres of unused land. He could take that land, chop
down all the trees, plow the baseball diamond, and build acres and
acres of wealth for himself.

To Kid Combat and the rest of the kids in
town, it was a place to be a kid, something a greedy man and an
evil corporation knew nothing about. During the summer, the boys
would play baseball from sunup to sundown. The girls would have tea
parties and take long walks through the forest, picking wildflowers
and talking about the boys. It was a state of bliss, and no one
would take that away from Kid or his friends.

Jones didn’t care about any of that. He had
to have that land, at any cost.

He went to work schmoozing city hall
officials and council members to approve the proper permits for
Jones Industries to acquire the park. He even started hiring crews
and drawing up plans for his new purchase. It would cost him
dearly.

Closer and closer Jones came to getting the
park. Then Kid Combat happened.

It took some time, but eventually, Jones
learned that it was Kid who had blocked the deal. Envelopes full of
documents showed up on the final court day and blocked the purchase
of the park to Jones. If that wasn’t enough, it was deemed that no
work was to be done on any part of Maple Forest for the next ten
years.

Jones was furious. All the time and money he
had put into the development of that forest were now gone. And it
was all because of this boy.

How he hated Kid Combat. Jones became
obsessed with finding out his true identity. He would spare no
expense and exhaust every resource. Then he would expose Kid and
end his reign of fame.

The previous night, he came close. But, once
again, Kid Combat slipped through his fingers. That thought only
enraged Jones more.

He turned to Two and looked him dead in his
eye. The lines in his forehead became more pronounced as the anger
consumed him. His teeth grinded together from the rage, and then,
he said in a deep and disturbing voice, “This town is becoming a
rash. I’ve built this town from the ground up. What was this town
before me?”

Two just stood there in dread as Jones
angrily threw the remote control across the room. It crashed into
the side of an aquarium, splashing water over the sides.

“Nothing!” Jones shouted. “That’s what this
town was before me. Nothing! This town owes me for everything it
has! And this is the way they treat me? By taking me off the news
and putting some kid on instead?”

He paused for a moment, then walked to the
window. He looked upon his backyard, the same yard Kid Combat used
to escape from his clutches.

But then, Jones chuckled. It was a chuckle
that would haunt anyone who heard it.

“Kid Combat. Nothing more than a child who
helps out other children,” Jones muttered to himself. The chuckled
disappeared.

“How I hate him. How I hate them all.”

Two stood there cluelessly. He didn’t know
whether to reply or remain silent. He looked around the quiet room
trying to figure out what to do. His lips quivered as if trying to
say something, but they couldn’t. Two was paralyzed with fear.
Jones stood at the window for a few minutes. A man of such power
was reduced to a small, angry shell because of some kids who did
nothing more than steal the spotlight from him for a brief
moment.