masquerading as a hero teacher. He's training a considerable number of super youths to be super-powered felons."
Rust shook his head. "Man, you drugged me for this? You people have weeded those moles out for decades. Why on Earth do you need me? And that girl, um, Audrey said something about training gamma accidents. What's with that?"
"In years past, we have sorted out a couple of 'moles.' But this one is different. Whoever he or she is, they're clever, too clever. And they have managed to train more villains than any of their predecessors have.
"To 'weed' this villain out, we need to create a team of teenage superheroes to go undercover in Summer Valley Hero High; the school we suspect is our newest villain's home-base. We need to provide this team with training, training to use their powers and work as a team.
"Now, you're a clever guy, (all patronizing aside), so you'll understand that we can't make this team out of students already enrolled. We just don't know exactly who is undergoing villain training and who isn't. To counteract this, we find teenagers with superpowers not yet enrolled in Hero High. We could create super-humans, but there was a law made in the eighties that restricts us from doing that. So, we use Gamma Accidents: kids who accidently get powers from a gamma ray burst from the sun the very day they're born."
Rust interjected with a point of his own. "And you do realize everyone is going to hate these kids' guts... right? I mean, you do remember what happened in the nineties?"
Urban Danger shrugged. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. We have some good examples, like your team."
"And you saw how that drama ended..." Rust rolled his eyes, leaned back in his chair and crossing his arms.
"I want you to find a group of teens, preferably ones who already know each other so we have less trust issues, hijack them whichever way you want and train them into a team."
Rust suddenly wished he could remember how to fly. All he wanted was to leave. "Look, Urban. I am not the man for the job. I'm a slob, I live alone, I have no friends, man, I don't even own a goldfish. I haven't used my powers for over a decade. I have been trying to forget my past every single day of my existence. I am-"
"You were once a great hero," Urban Danger said, seriously and directly. "All I'm asking is that you be that hero again, a hero for gamma accident heroes all over the world. If you don't do this, the world will end."
"You don't know that," Rust stated, plainly.
"Think about it. If heroes never receive training to be heroes, they will be villains. And a massive influx of villains means Earth's demise could come faster than you ever imagined."
Mr Danger grinned. Rust thought it looked rather evil for a second. "And if you still resist, just remember... we know exactly where you live."
Rust quietly seethed. This was not what he had planned for his Thursday evening...
"You won't be alone," Mr Danger said, brightly, as he got up and started leaving the room. "Audrey is going to be your assistant."
Despite everything that had happened that night, Rust groaned. "Terrific," he muttered, sarcastically.
1
Crashton
Friday, 8:35 pm
"Okay, I'm going to repeat the plan, just in case Caleb didn't catch everything," Jack Painter said as he cut the metallic-blue jeep's engine and parked outside the Crashton community hall.
"Hey!" Caleb Black exclaimed, crossing his arms indignantly. "I got everything."
His brothers, Ethan and Ty; Bella Sweet and Jack turned to look at him.
"Really, everything?" Ty questioned, raising his black eyebrows.
Caleb considered it. "Okay, maybe you should go through it again."
"Thank you," Jack said. He turned serious. "Bella, you need to make your way through the crowd and wait by the kitchen door. Ty, you are going to go through the hall, into the kitchen and test every soufflé until you find our target. Caleb will be waiting outside the kitchen door, round the back of the hall and Ethan, you're on damage control. I'll be hiding inside as mission control."
Everyone nodded.
The five teenagers stepped out the blue jeep and onto the sidewalk, ready for action. Tall and athletic Jack in his suit; lean Ty in a caterer's uniform; curly, brown-haired Bella in her floral spring-dance dress; short and bouncy Caleb in another caterer's uniform and glasses-wearing Ethan in normal jeans and a T-shirt.
Everyone looked at Ethan.
"Um, disguise, dude," Ty said.
"Oh, sorry, one second," Ethan said. He flickered like an image on a television screen during a storm. In a split second, he changed from slim, dark-blonde haired, glasses wearing, hazel-eyed teenage Ethan into an old, sixty-something, pudgy man with pale skin and thinning white hair, wearing a tuxedo.
"I love that party-trick," Bella said with a smile.
"Hey, holograms are way better than party tricks," Ethan informed her.
"Just remember not to shake anyone's hand, hug someone or accept a drink," Jack reminded him. "You'll just scare people if you flicker back into a teenager."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know."
"And Bella, avoid dark patches, okay? The last thing we want is for someone to see you glowing like a nightlight."
Bella smiled at her neighbour. "Jack, don't worry, I'll keep in the light."
"Everyone got their walkie-talkies?" Caleb asked, excitedly. It was his idea to keep in contact with each other using the cheap, novelty radios.
Everyone waved their walkie-talkie in the air, except Ethan, who couldn't hold anything while he was a hologram.
"Right, you can call me if there are any problems," Jack said. "Now, let's get this show on the road, get to the kitchen, find the cherry bomb Caleb accidentally dropped in a soufflé and get outta here before Bella's mom skins us alive."
The five teenagers split up, setting out to perform their assigned tasks, ready for action.
Some major business company rented the community hall out for a long, formal business dinner filled with long, boring speeches while boring business people mingled with fellow boring business people, boring music droning in the background.
It was a smart affair: formal dress was mandatory. The Crashton community hall had been stylishly decorated with large, silky ribbons; ambient lighting; silk table cloths draped over old, rented tables, fancy candles shaped like roses lit in the middle; and the stage set up with a dressed-up microphone.
Jack and Bella strolled through the doors, arm in arm, standing upright and trying to look as grown-up as possible. It worked: no one stopped them.
As soon as they were past the doors, Jack flew up, swiftly, and grabbed a ceiling beam. He pulled himself up and gazed down at the congregating executives.
From his vantage point, he could see everyone: Bella weaving through the crowd, looking out of place in her bright, knee-length, floral dress surrounded by elegant, silky, dark-coloured floor-length gowns; Ty and Caleb making their way to the catering staff-only kitchen; and Ethan, pseudonym Mr Robinson, mingling in among the bland businessmen.
"Hello, hello! No, I won't shake your hand: I'm afraid I have a bit of cold. I don't want to be responsible for spreading it," Ethan said with a jolly expression on his fleshy, holographic face.
A band unenthusiastically played classic music over the sound system as the uptight, business-oriented, insipid men and women exchanged insincere greetings and sentiments.
Jack's walkie-talkie crackled. "Man, this party needs livening up," Caleb's voice came through.
"We're not here to rescue this snooze-fest," Jack replied. "We're here to fix up your little accident."
Ty and Caleb entered the staff kitchen through a door marked: CATERERS ONLY.
Bella casually strolled up to the door in question and nonchalantly pressed her back against the wall, crossing her arms and smiling, briefly, to passersby.
The music died down and a man in a fancy tuxedo took the stage. The band almost looked relieved to put an end to the sleep-inducing composition. The man in the tuxedo cleared his throat, grinn
ed and adjusted the microphone stand to suit his height. He then began a long speech Jack couldn't be bothered even to hear.
Ethan made himself comfortable at a table, careful not to touch the tablecloth, cutlery or glass. He pretended to be listening, intently, to the boring speech about finances and staff increases.
In the catering kitchen, Caleb darted to the exit and waited outside while his brother set about doing the most important job of the evening.
The catering staff rushed around like frantic bees in a hive: no one even registered the newcomer's presence. No eyes on him, Ty began to shrink. He could shrink fast, but with his wracked nerves, it took longer. Soon, though, he was only an inch high.
He ran across the countertop, racing past towers of glasses and mountains of wine bottles until he reached a large tray with small, individual servings of chocolate soufflé in circular, white bowls.
Hesitating, he jumped onto the tray and climbed into the first soufflé, wiggling his way into the chocolate dessert, trying to feel for a small sphere.
Nothing there. He clawed his way out the ruined dessert and moved onto the next one, diving into the warm chocolate dessert and again searching for the cherry bomb.
He repeated this procedure for the entire tray, but never managed to find the bomb.
He grew back to his normal size and, while trying not to look at the destroyed soufflés, radioed Caleb.
"Are you sure it was the chocolate soufflés you dropped a cherry bomb in?" Ty hissed.
"Well, I thought it was the chocolate ones. If it's not there then try the vanilla ones,"