The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Boy, Book One: The Hero Revealed (18 page)

“What a terrible neighborhood,” Tadpole commented. “He must not be a very competent villain if that’s the best he can afford to rent.”

“It makes perfect sense,” I agreed. “He never has been very successful—at least until now. What I can’t figure out is how he managed to pull his stunt at the Mighty Mart, escape from prison, and now create all these duplicate Professor Brain-Drain cards. What’s changed him?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Plasma Girl said, speaking for all of us. “It’s time to pay a visit to Seventeen Skullduggery Lane.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A Minuscule Threat

I turned to apologize to the Inkblot for having to run, but he was now shouting at a picture of Mayor Whitewash on the cover of
Superopolis Style
magazine, and clearly wouldn’t notice us leaving.

“Come on, gang!” I hollered. “We’re back in hot pursuit!”

We headed toward one of the seediest parts of downtown Superopolis and soon found Skullduggery Lane. Most of the buildings on the street seemed to be warehouses. There were all sorts of shady characters loading and unloading what I imagined to be ill-gotten gains and illegal thingamajigs.

When we got to number 17, it looked like all the other buildings, except there was no activity going on. What we did find, however, was a bike leaning against the side of the building. And not just any bike. We could tell by the clawed-up handlebars that this was none other than Lobster Boy’s bike. Whoever sold him the phony card must be inside. We peeked through a window, but we weren’t able to see anything. I tried the heavy metal door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Stench”—I gestured to the door—“would you mind doing the honors?”

“My pleasure,” he said as he strode up to the door, grabbed hold of the handle, and yanked the door off its hinges with one effortless tug.

Unfortunately, Stench’s exertion brought with it a small burst of gas. We all held our breaths and quickly ran into the dark warehouse.

“Hal, can you give us some light?” I asked.

In response, he took a quick swig from his sippy cup. Soon he began to glow, the dimness vanished, and the items piled all around us became perfectly clear. Our mouths dropped open in amazement. The warehouse was filled with stacks and stacks of traffic cones and crates full of traffic cones everywhere we looked. Thousands of them! No,
hundreds
of thousands of them! What could possibly be the point?

“What’s with all the traffic cones?” Stench said.

“I have no idea,” I said, since I had no idea.

“Maybe the Multiplier has been making them,” suggested Plasma Girl, her mouth hanging open in awe.

“But it would have taken him ages to create all these. Most of these cones look like they’ve been here for years. Just look at all the dust on them.”

“What would anyone want with a gazillion traffic cones anyway?” Tadpole asked.

“I don’t know,” I said as I led the way farther into the warehouse, “but we’re going to find out.”

The team followed me deeper and deeper into the warehouse, passing between towers of cones, sometimes piled fifty feet high. Soon we saw a light ahead that became brighter and brighter as we got closer. I whispered to Hal to douse his own light and I cautiously poked my head over the nearest bunch of traffic cones. What I saw confirmed everything I had suspected.

There, in a clear space within the warehouse, was the Multiplier. And hanging from the ceiling by a thin wire was a clamp. Clutched by the clamp, I could tell even from where we were hiding, was a Professor Brain-Drain card. Instinctively, I knew it was the second genuine card in existence—the one stolen from Aunty Penny’s Arcade. The Multiplier was pinching the card between his thumb and index finger. As I watched him concentrate, a duplicate of the card appeared out of thin air in his other hand. He set it down on a stack of duplicate cards about two inches high and then once again began lightly pinching the original. I barely even breathed. It must have taken nearly five minutes, but sure enough, another card appeared in his empty hand. The duplicating speed that I had witnessed in the Mighty Mart the other day had clearly been abnormal.

All of a sudden, I swore I heard a voice mumble something. Then the Multiplier responded. It sounded like he was talking to someone, but I couldn’t see anyone else. He possibly could have been talking to himself, but the Multiplier wasn’t supposed to be crazy—just incompetent. I motioned for the team to stay where they were while I tried to move closer. I had to hear what was being said.

I moved around to within a few feet of where the Multiplier was standing. I could see only part of him, since my view was partly blocked by the crates, but I could hear him perfectly. And he definitely wasn’t alone.

“I’m creating them as fast as I can,” he was complaining in a whiny voice. “Since I escaped from prison I haven’t even had a chance to sleep!”

“You ssseem to forget that it was I who ssset you free,” hissed the eeriest voice I had ever heard.

“I know. And I appreciate it,” the Multiplier said nervously, obviously afraid of whoever he was talking to. “But I’ve been making these cards all night. Can I help it that my power is slow?”

“You were given a devissse to ssspeed up the prosssesss,” the stranger reminded him. “However, your sssilly essscapade at the grosssery ssstore dessstroyed it. It wasss one of a kind and will take time to replassse. It’sss a shame you weren’t sssmart enough to duplicate it firssst.”

I could glimpse enough of the foolish expression on the Multiplier’s face to see that something so simple had never occurred to him. And then my mind flashed back to the thing I had seen him drop as he sailed across the checkout area of the Mighty Mart. One mystery solved.

“In the meantime, I need more cardssss,” the voice continued. “You’ve only sssupplied usss with hun-dredsss, while we need millionsss. Bring what you have to headquartersss in two hoursss. Perhapsss a new devissse will be ready for you then. Don’t messs up again.”

I could tell that the mysterious figure had departed by the expression of relief that spread across the Multiplier’s face. What I had overheard the stranger say to the Multiplier, however, was astounding.

Millions of cards?! What had we stumbled upon? There weren’t enough kids in all Superopolis to possibly justify making millions of Professor Brain-Drain cards. And who was this mysterious stranger? It had to be the same person who had stolen the card from right beneath our noses at Aunty Penny’s Arcade and sold duplicate cards to all our unsuspecting classmates. But the money he had made off them couldn’t have added up to more than a thousand dollars (and Lobster Boy’s bike). There had to be something more at stake. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to find out what just yet, because at exactly that moment a loud noise pierced the silence of the warehouse. It was a noise that I knew could have come from only one person.

“Stench!” I muttered softly to myself in irritation.

I risked peeking around the cones, only to see the Multiplier darting off in the direction from which the unpleasant noise had come. I followed right behind, screeching to a halt along with him as he spotted my four teammates huddled in front of a crate. I could tell from their teary eyes that they had all gotten a powerful whiff of Stench’s mistake. It had left them all a bit disoriented. When they caught sight of the Multiplier, they all panicked.

Tadpole turned and ran smack into a tall stack of crates filled with traffic cones. High above, the top crate shuddered and moved. Then Halogen Boy smashed into the same stack and the top crate was jarred from its perch. All four of the confused heroes looked up at the crate as it tumbled toward them, its open side facing down. Right in front of the Multiplier, the crate landed like a cage on top of the trespassers.

“I don’t know who you kids are, but you’ll regret having tangled with the Multiplier,” he said, with a halfhearted evil laugh. “This will calm you down until I can figure out what to do about you.”

Once again I was helpless—a kid with no power who could do nothing but watch as the Multiplier dug a capsule out of his pocket and forced it through a hole in the crate. A minute later I saw whiffs of a cloudy gas leaking from cracks all over the box and I knew my friends had been knocked unconscious.

Having no power left me with two options. I could wallow in my helplessness and run away. Or I could stop feeling sorry for myself and do what a hero should do. The choice was obvious; there was no way I was going to abandon my friends. I launched myself right at the Multiplier.

“AIIIEEE!!” he shrieked, as I tackled him.

For a moment, I actually believed that, even with no power, I might be able to take someone as incompetent as the Multiplier. But he quickly turned on me, which wasn’t difficult considering he was twice my size. I struggled to get away, but he grabbed hold of my belt with one hand and hauled me back. He wrapped his arm around my torso, trapped my arms, and held me motionless. Within a few minutes, a duplicate of my belt appeared in his other hand and he soon had it strapped around my chest and arms.

My feelings of powerlessness once again overwhelmed me. It was bad enough that we had all been captured, but it was positively humiliating that we had been caught by someone the
Li’l Hero’s Handbook
classified as “a minuscule threat.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

At the Mercy of The Multiplier

I watched in frustration as the Multiplier dragged each of my unconscious teammates out from under the crate and tied them up tightly. He then disappeared into the warehouse while I helplessly looked on. All of a sudden Stench opened one eye and winked at me. I was relieved to see that he at least had already recovered.

“I’ve sort of developed a natural immunity to powerful gasses,” he whispered. “Should I break these ropes and bring this creep down?”

“Keep playing like you’re knocked out,” I whispered back. “I want to get as much information out of him as possible. Tell the others, too, when they wake up. And don’t let them do anything yet to reveal their powers.”

“You got it, O Boy,” Stench whispered back.

The Multiplier returned shortly, pushing an enormous machine on wheels.

“What’s that?” I asked him, genuinely curious.

“It’s a device that was left behind here by an old supervillain named the Red Menace,” the Multiplier explained. “He rented this space before me. He left behind cases and cases of stuff he’d collected. I had it all hauled away to the dump except for this thing.”

I suddenly remembered that the Red Menace was the villain that the Inkblot had just been rambling on about. Now I wished I’d paid a little more attention.

“What does it do?” I asked. The machine was big and nasty looking. Not only was there a long conveyor belt that led through a series of presses and stompers and mashers and crushers, but there were huge copper kettles linked by coiled hoses situated right in the middle of the monstrosity.

“According to the instruction booklet left with it, it was supposed to be used to make something the Red Menace called ‘the fuel of the revolution,’” the Multiplier announced importantly. He clearly had no better idea than I did what the thing was for. “It says to dump potatoes onto the conveyor belt and then turn the machine on. It does all the rest.”

“Why would anyone use potatoes for anything other than making potato chips?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” the Multiplier snapped back. “My plan is to strap you kids to the belt and turn the thing on.”

“And why would you do that?” I asked as calmly as possible.

“Because that’s what a villain is supposed to do,” he shrieked. “It says so in my handbook!”

To my complete and utter surprise, the Multiplier held up a handbook almost identical to my
Li’l Hero’s
Handbook
. As he brought the book closer to me, I saw that someone had had the audacity to publish something called the
Li’l Villain’s Handbook
.

“Who would publish something like that!” I said, outraged.