A Mutant Named Mizzie

by Lee Bacon

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2013 by Lee Bacon

  Cover art copyright © 2012 by Brandon Dorman

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random

  House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  randomhouse.com/teens

  eISBN: 978-0-385-37128-5

  Design by Trish Parcell

  A Delacorte Press eBook Edition

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  First Page

  About the Author

  “And that is why they call me Captain Justice!” I declared, staring down at the mutant I was holding in a headlock. Chirp chirp! My utility belt vibrated with an incoming call. Tightening my chokehold with one arm, I reached for my phone with the other. The mutant growled, then gurgled. I glanced up in time to see more mutants rushing my way. A roaring mass of gray skin, bloodshot eyes, rows of sharp teeth. I would have to make this quick.

  “Captain Justice speaking,” I said into the phone.

  “Hiya, Cap!” The voice belonged to Zimmerman, my new business manager. “Is this an okay time to chat?”

  I took another glance at the horde of bloodthirsty mutants: gnashing shark teeth, claws ripping through the air.

  “Of course,” I said.

  Ordinarily, I would’ve let the call go straight to voice mail, but I’d been waiting all day to hear from Zimmerman. A popular chain of barbecue restaurants was expanding into the microwaveable dinner market, and the owners were considering hiring me to be the official spokesperson. I could already imagine my face on all the colorful boxes, looking out from the frozen food aisle. Captain’s Down-Home Brisket and Beans … Sloppy Joe with Superhero Sauce. The possibilities were endless.

  “Good news, Cap!” Zimmerman said. “They agreed to the deal!”

  “That’s terrific!” I elbowed the mutant in the side of its gnarled head. “I’ll swing by to sign the contracts later today.”

  “And you should know, I scheduled you for a photo shoot next week. We just need to find a cowboy hat that matches your cape.”

  I shifted sideways to avoid getting clawed by the mutant in my grasp. “GRAAAAARG!” it screamed.

  “What’s that, Cap?” asked Zimmerman. “I didn’t quite catch that last part.”

  “That wasn’t me,” I began. “It was the m—”

  “ARRRPH!” the creature interrupted. “MUUUURRGG!”

  “If you don’t want to wear a hat, all you have to do is say so,” Zimmerman complained. “Groaning at me won’t accomplish anything.”

  I sighed. The first of the mutant horde would reach me any second.

  “I shall call you back,” I said.

  Clipping the phone back onto my belt, I swung the mutant in my grasp like an ugly gray baseball bat, knocking aside several of the attacking monsters before they could dog-pile me. But there were more where that came from: A tornado of claws and teeth. Murderous howls. And the breath … I didn’t know what these things had had for breakfast, but whatever it was, I wished I’d packed some extra breath mints in my utility belt.

  I made quick work of the remaining mutants. But they were just the preview. The main event was standing close by. Abominator. His face was shrouded in a black mask. A matching uniform and cape made him look like a shadow come to life.

  “Engage Net of Truth!” I called.

  A glowing blue hologram sprang from my armored wristband and flew through the air toward Abominator. At the same time, he reached beneath his cape and pulled out a javelin with a glowing green tip: the Radiation Spear. It was Abominator’s trademark. A swing of the spear sliced the Net of Truth to nothingness.

  I leaped three stories into the air, my shining blue cape billowing behind me. In addition to super strength, I also possess the power of flight, plus an arsenal of hologram weapons and the best technology money can buy. The total package. It’s easy to see why I—Captain Justice!—have long been considered the greatest superhero who has ever lived.

  A quick glimpse at my surroundings revealed an audience observing the fight: Citizens watching anxiously from office windows and stopped cars. A mailman hunched behind a trash can. And more journalists than you could count. Reporters, TV vans, microphones. I paused in the air for a little midflight posing.

  Cameras flashed as I flexed my muscles and smiled. People assume that my impressive physique and dashing good looks come naturally to me, but the truth is, I work hard to look this good. Three hours a day in the gym and state-of-the-art tooth-whitening procedures. Not to mention the manicures, exfoliation sessions, stylists, wardrobe consultants … Oh, the demands of being a modern superhero!

  The impromptu photo session came to a sudden end when a green-tipped spear whizzed past me.

  “Curse you, Captain Justice!” Abominator hollered from below. “Next time, I won’t miss!”

  “Ah, but you’re mistaken about that,” I replied, projecting my voice so that reporters would be able to hear me clearly. “For you see, there won’t be a next time. Prepare yourself for a life in confinement, you fiend!”

  “Not a chance, supergoof!” Abominator yelled back. “You’re the one who’s headed for confinement. In a coffin. Because you’ll be DEAD!”

  I was still trying to think of a snappy comeback when Abominator’s spear shot past me a second time. Only now it was heading back in the other direction. Toward the supervillain.

  How could I have been so foolish! A superhero who’s been in the business as long as I have ought to know that Abominator’s Radiation Spear functions like a boomerang. It always travels back to the place where it originated: Abominator’s hand.

  I’d been distracted, and had nearly paid for it with a radioactive spear in the back. I wouldn’t let it happen again.

  Speeding toward the supervillain, I extended one arm. “Engage Heat Beam of Honesty!”

  A holographic ray of blue light shot from my wristband. Abominator dove out of the way, and the beam hit the side of a delivery truck with the logo SAMWELL’S POTATO CHIPS printed on the side. The Heat Beam of Honesty carved a hole in the truck, unleashing a sea of potato chip bags on top of Abominator.

  “Looks like it’s snack time for you!” I announced.

  By the time Abominator’s head emerged from the mountain of bags, I was standing over him.

  “Just sit tight.” I pointed my armored wristband at him, ready to unleash any number of hologram weapons. “One move and we’ll have supervillain salsa to go along with all these chips.”

  On the ground beside the pile of chips was an electronic device that had fallen loose when Abominator dove to avoid the Heat Beam of Honesty. Bending down to pick it up, I saw a single gray button in its center.

  “I’ll hang on to this,” I said, slipping the gadget into a pouch of my utility belt.

  After ensuring that the police had the supervillain locked away and granting interviews to a few reporters on the scene, I climbed into the back of the SUV parked nearby. In the front seat was a robot in a tuxedo and chauffer’s cap.

  “Greetings, Stanley!” I said.

  “Excellent work today, sir,” said my robot butler in his precise electronic voice. “Where would you like to go?”

  “Take me to Zimmerman’s office,” I said as the car lurched into motion. “I’ve got some co
ntracts I need to—WATCH OUT!”

  The SUV screeched to a halt. Something was blocking our path. I leaned forward, staring out the front window. A mutant was sitting in the center of the street. But unlike the monstrous creatures I’d grappled with earlier, this mutant appeared to be … a baby girl. A tiny thing with gray skin and nothing in the way of clothing except a pink diaper.

  Climbing out of the SUV, I approached the baby mutant cautiously. The thing looked harmless, but you never knew. It could be a trick. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. For the time being, it was just the mutant and me.

  Holding her as far from me as possible, like a bomb that could go off at any second, I cast a glance back in the direction of the battle scene. The other mutants were confined in a group, locked into submission with handcuffs and ankle restraints, watched over by the police. There was little doubt that the baby had been a part of the horde. Perhaps Abominator had brought her along by accident. Perhaps her parents were in the group that was getting detained.

  Whatever the reason for the baby’s presence, the best solution was to hand her over to the authorities. I took a step in that direction, but something stopped me in my tracks.

  The mutant giggled.

  She was gazing up at me with a grin on her face. Her big dark eyes shone in the morning sunlight. A tuft of black hair stood up on her head. She only had a single tooth in her mouth—although it looked sharp enough to cause some major damage.

  Attached to her diaper was a tag with text printed on one side.

  MI-Z 450-7521

  I sounded out the letters in my head. MI-Z. Almost like a name. Mizzie.

  I shook away the thought. In my line of work, the names of mutants didn’t matter. All that mattered was stopping them before they could wreak havoc on innocent people.

  Turning away from the mutant, I reminded myself that I still had a busy day in front of me. Zimmerman’s office to sign the contracts, then on to the gym, followed by lunch with my agent, a quick trip to the hairdresser, an afternoon meeting to look over the new season’s weapon designs … I didn’t need to check my calendar to know that take care of baby mutant wasn’t on my to-do list.

  And yet I still couldn’t bring myself to turn the child over to the authorities. I watched as an officer yanked one of the creatures off the ground and tossed it into the back of an armored police van. What would they do to the baby if I handed her over now? Would they treat her the same way?

  I hesitated for a moment longer. Then I returned to the SUV.

  “Slight change of plans,” I said to Stanley.

  The mutant giggled again as I lowered her into the backseat.

  “This microwaveable barbecue deal has the potential to expand my market in the south,” I said to Zimmerman. Contracts were spread across the desk, ready to be signed. “Let us begin putting together tour dates to promote—”

  “Uh … Cap?” Zimmerman interrupted. “Why is there a baby mutant in my office?”

  He was staring nervously at the gray-skinned child, who was sitting in one of his swivel chairs, chewing on a paperweight with her one extremely sharp tooth.

  “Oh, this is Mizzie,” I said. “I discovered her a little while ago.”

  “So you thought you’d bring it to my office?” Zimmerman scooted away from Mizzie, his mouth curling with disgust.

  “Would you prefer that I leave her in the car with Stanley?” I asked.

  “Actually, I would prefer that you take her to the nearest maximum-security prison. Where she belongs.”

  “But she’s just a baby.”

  “She’s not ‘just a baby.’ She’s a mutant. And she’s getting slobber all over my paperweight.”

  “I know it’s a little … unexpected.”

  “Unexpected?” Zimmerman shook his head. “It’s career suicide, that’s what it is. Do you have any idea what’ll happen if the press gets wind of this? People want to see superheroes fighting mutants, not playing peekaboo with them.”

  “I can’t just have her tossed into some jail cell,” I said. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Yet,” Zimmerman prompted. “She hasn’t done anything wrong yet. But she will.”

  I stepped forward, flexing a bicep. “If you feel so strongly about this, perhaps it’s time I begin looking for a new new business manager.”

  Zimmerman shivered, cowering in his chair. Maybe it was the fear of losing his biggest client. Or maybe it was knowing that I had enough power at my fingertips to turn his entire office building to a pile of dust. Either way, he seemed to be experiencing a change of heart.

  “Okay, so handing her over to the authorities is a no-go,” Zimmerman began. “I can accept that. No problem.”

  “Good.”

  I took a seat in the chair beside Mizzie. What an odd turn the day had taken. I’d started off the morning battling mutants, and now I was babysitting one.

  It had been years since I’d spent any time around a child this age. Sure, I come into contact with small children all the time. It’s part of the job. Whenever I’m surrounded by adoring crowds, someone inevitably thrusts a baby into my hands. Usually, they want a photo of Captain Justice holding their offspring. Or they want me to autograph it. Either way, I can always hand the child back a moment later. End of story.

  But who was I supposed to hand the baby to this time?

  It seemed like a lifetime ago that my own daughter, Sophie, had been this young. She’s twelve now, but as mature as someone twice her age. And of course, when she was a baby, my wife was still alive.…

  “You okay, Cap?”

  Zimmerman’s voice cut through my thoughts.

  “Just got a little … distracted,” I said, glancing at the floor.

  “You know what I think?” Zimmerman said. “I think you need a break. Battling supervillains, new endorsement deals and now a baby mutant to take care of. It’s too much—even for a guy like you. Once everything settles down, you should take a few days off. Why don’t you stay at my new beach house? There’s plenty of space. It’s isolated and ultra-secure—so there’s no need to worry about villains or paparazzi ruining your holiday.”

  Zimmerman’s eyes flashed from me to Mizzie.

  “But first you need to figure out what you plan to do with it,” he said. “I mean … her?”

  I drummed my fingers on the armrest. “That’s an excellent question.”

  After we left Zimmerman’s office, Stanley drove us to a nearby Stop ’n’ Save to pick up a few provisions.

  When I approached the register, the cashier stared up at me in awestruck silence. A piece of chewing gum dropped out of her wide-open mouth and landed on the magazine she’d been reading a moment before.

  I’m not sure what was more surprising for the woman: that the most famous superhero in the world was standing in front of her or that my arms were full of diapers, plastic toys, baby food and wet wipes.

  Ordinarily, Stanley did all the shopping. As we’d pulled up to the store, however, Mizzie had spit up all over the seat. I’d volunteered to pick up a few necessities while Stanley took care of the stain. It had been years since my last shopping excursion, and I’d felt a jolt of excitement at the idea. A new adventure! Shopping!

  But now I wasn’t so sure. The employee continued to stare at me like I’d beamed down from an alien planet. On top of that, I was unaccustomed to how people behaved at the checkout line. I tried to remain calm. Just act natural.

  “Greetings, female employee!” Plopping the merchandise in front of the cash register, I reached into my utility belt and removed my wallet. “I shall be purchasing these items! Is credit card an acceptable payment method?”

  “Uhhh …” The woman looked even more freaked out. She stared at the things I’d dropped in front of her. “You’re getting all … this?”

  Suddenly, the earlier conversation with Zimmerman flashed through my memory. Do you have any idea what’ll happen if the press gets wind of this? he’d said. Career suicide.
Those were the words he’d used. And now here I was—buying provisions for a baby mutant. In public!

  What if the employee got a glimpse into the SUV? What if she saw the gray-skinned child in the backseat? One anonymous tip to Super Scoop was all it would take to send my career down the toilet.

  “These items aren’t for me!” I blurted out.

  The employee’s eyes moved across the plastic truck and the diapers, then back to where I was standing. “Looks like they’re for a baby.”

  “No! I mean—yes. They are. But not my baby. And certainly not a mutant baby—”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth before I could say anything else.

  With a confused look on her face, the employee scanned my items and swiped my credit card, then glanced up at me again.

  “Paper or plastic?” she asked.

  “That’s none of your business!” I boomed, gathering the purchased items into my arms in a flurry.

  “Did you enjoy your shopping experience?” Stanley asked as I climbed back into the SUV.

  I dumped the diapers and toys and wet wipes onto the floor.

  “Just drive,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Stanley canceled the rest of my appointments for the day. Until I figured out what to do with Mizzie, the risk of appearing in public was simply too great.

  “Well, we can’t return her to her parents,” I said.

  “They are most likely in a detention facility,” Stanley agreed from the driver’s seat.

  The landscape of farms and hillsides passed outside the windows as he drove. Mizzie was on the seat beside me, napping. Her little gray hand was curled into a fist, her thumb hanging loosely from her mouth.

  “She deserves to be raised in a better environment,” I said. “Someplace where she isn’t surrounded by violent, bloodthirsty beasts.”

  “In that case,” Stanley said, “perhaps it is a good thing that we found her when we did.”

  I watched the baby doze for a few seconds longer. Even with all the disruption she’d caused, I couldn’t help wondering if Stanley had a point.

  But what about Zimmerman’s warning? How would the world react if they discovered that Captain Justice was taking care of a mutant? Sure, the child was adorable. But she was also … different. Her skin was the color of a shark. Soon she would have a mouthful of ultra-sharp teeth. Her parents had been locked up for terrorizing innocent citizens.