The Nameless Hero (14 page)

That night, I couldn’t stop wondering … What was behind the black door? And what other secrets was Gavin hiding from us?

I woke up suddenly the next morning with a light shining in my eyes.

“Time to get up.” Gavin was pacing at the foot of my bed. “There’s not a moment to waste. You can get dressed in the SUV. We already have your uniform. The triplets customized it since the last time you wore it, so—”

“What’s going on?” I mumbled, shielding my eyes from the light. “What time is it?”

“That’s not important. You need to get up and into the SUV ASAP. Okay?”

“Where are we going?”

Gavin turned to face me, his eyes burning with intensity.

“New York,” he said. “It’s time for your first mission.”

The hover SUV shot straight up a half-mile shaft, traveling from the underground headquarters and through a hatch disguised as a Dumpster. Seconds later, we were bursting into the air. From the window, I watched the tanning salon shrink to the size of a LEGO.

“Where’re we going?” Milton asked. Normally he wasn’t much of a morning person. But all the excitement of our first mission had him wide awake. “What’s the big emergency?”

Gavin turned around in the front seat. “Another landmark is about to be vandalized. Someone spotted a lunatic in a purple and black uniform flying around New York a few minutes ago. They think it’s the same guy.”

A skeptical frown took form on Sophie’s face. “And you want
us
to stop him?”

“No, we’re flying to New York to pick up bagels,” Trace scoffed.

“I know this is fast,” Gavin said. “But it’s an opportunity we can’t miss. This guy’s the top story in the media. If we defeat him, the entire country will know about the Alliance of the Impossible. It’s the perfect way to launch the group.”

While the SUV soared closer to New York City, I climbed into the back to change into my uniform. Right away, I could see where the Smicks had made their adjustments. The pants no longer flared out like bell-bottoms around the ankles. And the armor around my chest and arms actually made it look like I had some muscle tone that wasn’t really there.

But I noticed the biggest change when I put on the mask that the triplets had designed. Black Kevlar molding wrapped around my head, with two holes for my eyes and a gap on the top where my hair poked through in a Mohawk. Catching a glimpse of my reflection, I hardly even recognized myself. I looked like a different person.

Like a superhero.

“Before we arrive, I have something very important for each of you,” Gavin said as I was climbing back into my seat. “I would like to give you your names.”

“Um …,” Milton said. “We sort of already have names, sir.”

“I’m not talking about the names your parents gave you. I’m talking about your
new
names. Your identities. Your brands. Your superhero names.”

Gavin reached into a bag near his feet and removed several small white envelopes, like what we’d received on the day when we were invited to attend Gyfted & Talented.

“I’d planned to conduct a special ceremony.” Gavin handed an envelope to everyone but nFinity. “But due to unforeseen events, we’ll have to do this now.”

I tore open my envelope. A card slipped out onto my lap.

Most people might have been kind of freaked out to have a new identity handed to them on a piece of paper. But for me, the name was just another in a long list of names that I’d been given over the years.

“What’d they give you?” Milton leaned over to look at my card. He stared at it for a few seconds, his forehead wrinkling. “So your new name is … Fuzz?”

“Not Fuzz,” I said.
“Fuze.”

“Aha.” Milton nodded like he didn’t really get it. “They gave me Supersonic. Pretty cool, huh? ’Cause of the rocket shoes. But … hey, your name is good too. I mean, Fuzz really rolls off the tongue—”

“I told you—it’s
Fuze. F-U-Z-E
. Like the string you light when you want a stick of dynamite to explode.”

But Milton was already excitedly comparing his new identity with the others. Miranda had been given the name
Prodigy. nFinity already had a name, and Sophie was Firefly—

“In other words, the worst superhero name ever,” she whispered angrily to me.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Firefly is pretty cool. And it makes sense too. ’Cause of the whole glowing thing.”

Sophie shook her head, adjusting her gold mask. “Think about it. The only part of the firefly that actually glows is its backside.”

“Okay. And?”

“They might as well just name me Big Insect Butt!”

“Now that you mention it, that’s kind of catchy,” Milton said. “I can see the headline now. ‘The Indestructible Bug Butt Saves the Day!’ ”

Sophie punched Milton in the shoulder.

“There’s New York up ahead!” Gavin pointed at the view of Manhattan in the distance. Skyscrapers rising up over the horizon, glimmering with the first rays of early-morning sunlight. And there in the bay to the south of New York City was the Statue of Liberty. It was a sight I’d seen a million times before in photos and movies.

But never like this.

The Statue of Liberty was draped in a giant purple T-shirt. And that wasn’t all. Instead of the golden torch that was supposed to be in her hand, she was now holding up an oversized remote control. In her other hand, the statue was gripping a bucket of fried chicken.

I blinked disbelievingly. Someone had turned the Statue of Liberty into an enormous couch potato.

As our SUV hovered closer, I saw someone floating around the statue’s head. He was wearing a purple and black uniform with a mask that covered half his face. A jet pack strapped to his back kept him afloat.

“Where are the rest of them?” Sophie stared out at the T-shirt–wearing Statue of Liberty with a look of bafflement in her eyes. “There’s no way only one guy did all this. Where are his accomplices?”

Nobody had an answer. The masked villain twisted in the air, noticing us for the first time. His face formed into a strange smile, as though he were pleased to see us.

And then he launched forward, flying out over the bay in the direction of Manhattan.

“Follow him!” Gavin yelled. “Don’t let him get away!”

Trace jerked the steering wheel, then slammed his foot on the gas. The SUV spun in the air, following the same trajectory as the escaping villain.

As soon as he reached the southern tip of Manhattan, the villain swooped close to the ground and vanished into the park beneath us. I caught glimpses of him weaving between trees and terrified early-morning joggers.

He appeared again at the edge of the park, rising into the air above the street and shooting between two buildings. Trace twisted the steering wheel, following him into the cavern of skyscrapers.

We lurched from side to side as Trace rocketed through intersections, making sudden turns, barely avoiding the edges of buildings.

We sailed deeper into the city, careful to keep the purple and black villain in our sights. A hot dog vender dove for his life and was buried in an avalanche of spilled buns. The city blurred past the SUV’s windows.

Up ahead, I saw Times Square. A crowded jumble of enormous billboards and flashing advertisements. Even this early in the morning, tourists roamed the sidewalks, and yellow cabs jammed the streets.

At Forty-Second Street, the villain skimmed a traffic light. It tipped sideways and crashed into the hood of our SUV. The impact sent us spinning wildly—right into an enormous advertisement for Samwell’s potato chips, ten stories off the ground.

Our uniforms’ padding protected us. Unfortunately, the SUV wasn’t in such good shape. Smoke billowed from the hood, and the back end was wedged into the side of the billboard. We were stuck.

I glanced out the window. There was a platform beneath the billboard we’d crashed into. But beneath that, it was a long drop to the street below.

“Brandy, Trace, and I will see what we can do about our transportation,” Gavin said. “The rest of you—do whatever you can to stop that guy.”

Suddenly, all of this felt much more real. We were no longer a half mile beneath the earth’s surface. And that guy out there wasn’t a part of some training procedure. He was an actual supervillain. And he was floating above Times Square, just waiting for us to make a move.

“Don’t worry,” nFinity said after a long moment had passed. “It always feels like this before facing an enemy. But we’re a team. And if we work together, this guy doesn’t stand a chance. After all, it’s five against one, right—”

nFinity’s speech was cut short by a loud
POP
. For a second, I thought the crash must’ve shaken something loose in my brain, because all of a sudden I was seeing double. There were now
two
supervillains drifting above Times Square. Each looked exactly like the other.

“Make that five against
two
,” Milton said.

“Wh-what just happened?” I asked.

Brandy stared at the two identical supervillains, stunned. “No,” she whispered. “It … it can’t be.”

Trace turned toward Gavin. All of Trace’s usual swagger was gone. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. “I-it’s him, isn’t it?” Trace stammered. “He’s back?”

“
Who’s
back?” Milton asked.

“Fifteen years,” Brandy murmured. “I thought he was dead.…”

The sound of her voice was absorbed by another blast of noise. Out of nowhere a third supervillain appeared beside the other two—each identical to the others. Two more loud pops, and the number increased again—from three to five.

“Would someone please explain what’s going on?” Milton asked.

“He calls himself Multiplier,” Gavin said. “He can create copies of himself. And copies of those copies. And—well, you get the idea.”

Sophie leaned forward in her seat, staring out the window in bewilderment. “All those other guys who just appeared—they’re … clones?”

“Exactly.”

At least now we knew how he could pull off such huge tasks by himself. He had an unlimited supply of copies working alongside him.

“You’ve got to capture the original,” Gavin said. “If you can do that, it’ll eliminate the clones.”

“How are we supposed to know which one’s the original?” I asked.

“Leave that to me,” Miranda said. “I should be able to Sense the real one.”

“Good!” Gavin said. “Now get out there and show the world what the Alliance of the Impossible can do!”

The door of the SUV swung open. And before I knew it, I was following the others onto an awning that overlooked Times Square. The giant Samwell’s potato chips billboard loomed over us. Below, a crowd had gathered on the street. They were looking up at us like we were just another flashy advertisement. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones who’d taken an interest in us. Multiplier and his clones were flying in our direction.

The swarm of identical supervillains wove through the air like oversized purple and black insects. The crowd below gasped and then broke into sudden applause. I guess they were under the impression that this was all some kind of free outdoor performance.

“There are five of them and five of us,” nFinity said, sounding like the quarterback in a huddle. “That’s one for each of us. If someone gets into trouble, call out. Remember—capture the original and that’ll take care of the rest. You ready, team?”

“Uh … do we have a choice?” Milton asked.

nFinity glanced back at Multiplier and his clones. They were closing in on us quickly. “Not really.”

Milton gulped. “Okay, then. Let’s do this.”

I guessed Milton was eager to start his career as a superhero,
because he was the first to make his move. We were at least two hundred feet off the ground, but he leaped off the awning like it was nothing. A second later, his rocket-propulsion boots kicked in. And this time, they actually worked the way they were supposed to.