The Nameless Hero (22 page)

“This seems too easy,” Sophie said.

“It
is
too easy.” Miranda’s voice shook. “Everyone be careful.”

“Careful of
what
?” Milton said. “I bet Multiplier just got scared when he saw us coming and made a run for it. I’m gonna take a closer look—”

“Milton, NO!” Miranda reached out to grab Milton, but it was already too late. He took a step forward. That was when we all heard it—

BEEP!

It was barely more than an electronic chirp, but the noise echoed loudly in my head. There must’ve been a laser sensor in the room. And Milton had just stepped across it.

Milton froze. “What just happened?”

“You set off a trap.” Miranda pointed to the Liberty Bell. Purple gas had begun pouring out of the bottom of it, like a poisonous fog spreading across the room.

The five of us turned at once to escape, but that was as far as we got. A metal grate was lowering in front of the entryway. My heart seized with fear as I watched the grate fall, blocking any view into the salon—and any way out.

Next to the exit was the rack of suntan lotion we’d passed by on the way into the salon. But at the time, I’d failed to notice the bottle on the middle rack with a label that read:

Multiplier’s Own SleepyTime Gas
Extra-Effective Superhero Formula
Have a nice nap!

A stream of purple gas spewed out of the top of the bottle. I held my breath and rushed straight into the fog, focusing my Gyft in the hopes of blasting our way out. By now, the air was so thick with purple gas, it was impossible to see where I was going. I staggered one more step toward the door, suddenly dizzy. And that’s the last thing I remember.

I don’t know how long I was out. A few minutes? A few hours? All I know is that I woke up with a crushing headache and a couple of Multipliers looking down at me from on top of the Liberty Bell.

Not the nicest thing to see when you wake up.

I was still inside the tanning salon. It was impossible to tell the time of day or night. The metal grate covered the front of the salon. I glanced around for the others, and my heart sank. They were gone.

“Look who’s awake!” said one of the Multipliers.

“It’s everyone’s favorite tween superhero,” said the other. This made them both laugh like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

I tried to climb to my feet, but something held me in place. Twisting around, I saw that my wrists had been chained to a pipe behind me.

“In case you’re thinking about busting out of those chains, don’t bother,” one of the villains said. “Your spontaneous compunction won’t work.”

“It’s spontaneous
combustion
,” I corrected. “And what’re you talking about?”

“The gas that knocked you out also neutralizes superpowers. So unless you’ve got a pair of bolt cutters hidden under those sparkly spandex sleeves of yours, it looks like you’re stuck here with us.”

This set the supervillains laughing again. The one on the right cackled so hard that he kicked the Liberty Bell, sending a deafening noise reverberating through the room. Maybe it had something to do with the crack in the side of the bell, but the sound wasn’t really a ring. More like a metallic thud. A very LOUD metallic thud.

“Where’re my friends?” I asked once my ears stopped buzzing.

“Your superbuddies?” said the one on the left, still chuckling. “They’re locked away with Gavin and Trace downstairs.”

“
Waaaaay
downstairs,” said the other.

“Headquarters?” I asked.

The Multipliers nodded. “One is keepin’ an eye on ’em.”

“One?”

“The original. You know, Multiplier One-Point-Oh.”

“You’re his clones?”

“
I’m
his clone,” said the Multiplier on the left, his voice thick with pride. He pointed at the villain beside him. “And he’s
my
clone.”

The clone’s clone frowned a little at this comment. And he looked even more disgruntled when Multiplier Number Two nudged him with an elbow and ordered him to doublecheck the metal grate. Grumbling, he hopped down from his perch on top of the Liberty Bell and did as he was told.

The chain rattled behind me, digging into my wrists. The situation was looking more and more hopeless. My friends were being held captive half a mile beneath the Earth’s surface. The only other people who knew I was here were Gavin and Trace, but they were locked away too. My house was just a few minutes’ drive from here, but my parents still thought I was off at Gyfted kids’ summer camp. If only there were some way I could signal them. But how was I supposed to do
that
when I was powerless and chained against the wall?

Then I realized it.… I didn’t have to signal them. Not if one of the clones did it for me.

“Hey, Number Three,” I said. “I was just wondering.… How’s it feel?”

Multiplier Number Three looked up from the doorway, where he was checking the grate. “How’s
what
feel?”

“Being the clone of a clone. Always getting bossed around by the clone above you. Must get frustrating.”

Multiplier Number Three scratched his head. “Now that you mention it, it
does
get kind of old.”

“You know, if you had your own clone, he could do that
for
you.”

“He’s messing with your head,” grunted Number Two. “Don’t listen to him.”

“See, there he goes again,” I said to Number Three. “Bossing you around, like always.”

“Y’know something? You’re right!” Multiplier Number Three abandoned his work and turned to glare at Number Two. “I’m sick of being told what to do. I’ll make a clone of my own. Then
he’ll
do whatever
I
want!”

“Don’t you dare!” Multiplier Number Two screamed, but it didn’t do any good. A loud
POP
sounded and a third Multiplier appeared.

“Well, hello there!” The newest clone glanced around at the inside of the tanning salon like he was impressed, his eyes passing over the Liberty Bell in the corner, the superhero chained to the wall.

“Looks like a party’s goin’ on in here!” he said. “Thanks for invitin’ me!”

“You’re welcome,” said Number Three. “Now check on that security grate. We don’t want anyone getting inside.”

Multiplier Number Four’s voice took on a whiny tone. “Aawww! I just got here!” He stomped his foot like a kid who doesn’t want to clean his room. “Why do I have to do everything?”

“Because I said so!” Number Three sounded excited to be the one giving the orders, not receiving them. “Now get to it!”

“Tell you what,” countered Number Four. “I’ll just make another clone. Then at least I’ll have someone to help me.”

“No! That’s not the way it’s supposed to work!”

Multiplier Number Two hopped down from his perch
atop the Liberty Bell. Crossing his arms smugly, he said, “Not so funny now, is it?”

Over the sounds of Number Three’s protests, another
POP
jolted through the tanning salon. And—just like that—there were four Multipliers. Turned out the newest clone was even
less
willing to do the job than the others, and before anyone could stop him, he created
another
clone … and that one created a clone too … and—

POP! POP! POP!

Before long, the tanning salon was jammed with identical purple and black supervillains. There were too many to count. And still, none of them stepped forward to fix the security grate. Instead, Multipliers stood around chatting with each other by the tanning booth. Others were at the counter, attempting to break into the cash register. A few more were trying on sunglasses near the door.

It was pretty easy to pick out which clones had been created most recently. They were clumsier—or just plain dumber—than the rest of the group. One of them stumbled across the tanning salon with a cross-eyed expression on his face, asking where he could find the nearest taco stand. Another was sitting cross-legged on the floor, guzzling a bottle of sunscreen.

It was just like Brandy had said. Each new copy was a little bit duller than the last. And easier to control. Or at least, I hoped so.

I caught the eye of the clone who’d been drinking the sunscreen. “Hey, you know what’s
really
fun?”

The clone set down the bottle. “Whuh?”

I glanced across the room. All the other clones were too preoccupied to notice our conversation. My eyes landed on the Liberty Bell. “See that bell over there?”

The clone nodded. “Big bell.”

“I wonder what it would sound like to ring the big bell. Pretty cool, I bet.”

His dull gaze intensified. The clone climbed to his feet and stumbled across the salon, muttering, “Wanna ring the big bell.”

I was almost too nervous to watch. Any second, I was sure one of the others would stop him. But the clone party was really heating up now, and nobody paid any attention to what one of their dimmest copies was up to.

The clone hesitated in front of the Liberty Bell, wiping a spot of sunscreen off his chin. Then he reached forward and gave the bell a hard push.

CLAAAANG!

The sound echoed in my brain like a bomb had gone off. All clone conversation came to an instant stop. Everyone turned to look at the sunscreen-loving clone who’d made all the noise. Excited by all the attention, he gave the bell another push.

“STOP THAT!” Multiplier Number Two screamed over the noise. “STEP AWAY FROM THE NATIONAL LANDMARK!”

But his scolding went ignored. And while some of the Multipliers winced and covered their ears, others clapped
enthusiastically, grinning at the bell like it was a carnival attraction.

“My turn! My turn!” said one as the ringing died down.

“Lemme take a crack at it!” said another.

“Me too!” squealed a third. “And after this, we should see if there are any taco stands nearby!”

Before long, a crowd of clones was kicking and pushing the Liberty Bell from all sides. They laughed as its off-pitch clanging echoed through the salon. It was like a hammer beating against my eardrums. But at least that meant it was loud. Maybe even loud enough to be heard at my parents’ house.

Trying to cover his ear with one hand, Multiplier Number Two reached into his utility belt with the other and whipped a plasma pistol from its holster. “STOP IT! NOW!”

When his command went ignored, he pulled the trigger, and a beam of red light shot out of the end, blasting a clone into a pile of dust. I winced at the sight, but reminded myself that the clones weren’t real people. They were copies.

“Next one of you that
touches
the bell gets a taste of plasma,” Multiplier Number Two roared. “Got it? I’m the Number Two. And since Number One’s down in the headquarters, that means I’m in charge around here. So from now on, you’ll do what I say, or else—”

ZAAAP!

Multiplier Number Two disintegrated before my eyes.
The clone nearest to him lowered his plasma pistol. “Looks like you ain’t in charge anymore,” he said.

“Hey, you can’t just go around shootin’ clones!” cried one of the Multipliers.

“Oh, yeah? Watch me!”

A red beam shot across the tanning salon, and another clone disappeared. After that, the scene inside the tanning salon turned into all-out war. Purple and black supervillains scrambled for their weapons, blasting each other into oblivion.

Plasma beams burst through the air in every direction. One stray shot connected with the tanning bed, turning our only ride down to headquarters into a pile of charred dust. I ducked as a rack of bronzing cream dematerialized nearby. Huddling closer to the wall, I did my best to avoid having the same thing happen to me.

The fighting finally came to an end when there was only a single clone left standing. By now, the salon was a complete wreck. The racks and shelves that hadn’t been dematerialized were lying on their sides; tanning accessories spilled out across the floor. Somehow the Liberty Bell had made it through everything in one piece—even if it was one
cracked
piece.

The single remaining clone clutched his plasma pistol, slowly scanning the room. When his eyes landed on me, a dark grin twisted across his thin face.

“Well, well,” he said. “Lookie what we have here.”

The clone took a step toward me. A pair of sunglasses cracked beneath his foot with a sudden
cruuunch
.

“Looks like me and you are all alone, Nameless
Zero
,” he said. “Just think how happy Number One will be when he finds out that I killed my very own superhero.”

My heart pounded furiously. The chain rattled behind me.

“Number One wants me alive,” I said. “That’s why he made sure to keep me here.”

The clone paused, giving this some thought. But then the evil grin returned. He aimed his plasma pistol at my chest.

“Yeah, well, Number One ain’t here,” he said. “Neither are Two, Three, and Four. So I guess that puts
me
in charge.”

The clone took another step in my direction. Reaching out with his free hand, he pulled off my mask. When he saw my face, his lip curled into an awful smirk. I shivered as his finger tightened around the trigger.

Clenching my eyes shut, I held my breath. A burst of noise rang in my ears.

For a second I was sure it was all over. But it wasn’t the blast of a plasma pistol. It was the sound of the metal grate breaking apart. In a flash of realization, it occurred to me that the clones never had gotten around to securing it. When I opened my eyes, I saw a wall of metal crashing to the floor and a dumpy robot with paddles for feet lurching into the salon. The clone whirled around, but before he could get off a shot, Elliot rammed into him, and knocked the clone to the floor.

My robot butler wobbled to look at me with his big glowing eyes.

“You ringed, sir?”

I’d seen Elliot respond to the ringing of a tiny bell at home. And now I knew that the call worked on a much bigger scale.

“You saved me, Elliot!” He might not have been all that great at cooking or cleaning (or much of anything else), but Elliot had really come through when I needed him most.