Billy cheerfully addressed the Monarch: “What my friends are trying to say is that we have no problem if you want to be a hero in Monstros. There’s plenty of crime for everybody to fight . . . more villains than you can shake a stick at . . . bad guys up the wazoo, so to speak.” He laughed nervously, not sure he was getting through to the hooded figure.
“I must be the only one!” the Monarch bellowed at the top of his lungs. He then shot out his arm, a strange gunlike device appearing in his gloved hand.
Billy prepared to leap out of the way but wasn’t fast enough. A beam of pulsing light struck him, engulfing his entire body. He was stunned to find that he could no longer move.
“Look at you,” the Monarch scoffed. “Helpless as a kitten.”
“Don’t forget,” Billy said, struggling to no avail to free himself from the effects of the paralysis ray. “Kittens have some pretty nasty claws . . . and they can bite, too!”
The Monarch adjusted a knob on his paralysis ray and Billy suddenly floated up into the air.
“Me next!” Victoria cried, jumping up and down.
Archebold tried to grab Billy’s hand as he rose above them, but missed.
Who is this Monarch guy? Billy wondered as he hovered above the street like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon.
“Can’t we talk this out?” he asked aloud, trying to maintain some modicum of dignity as he spun in the air. “We’re heroes, you’re a hero, so why don’t we just—”
“I’m the hero,” the Monarch boasted. “The one and only.”
“Don’t you think that’s . . . you know, a little greedy?”
“Silence!” the Monarch demanded. “We’ll let the city decide.”
Billy found himself floating higher now, drifting over the crowd of citizens that had gathered on Mortis Street.
“Citizens of Monstros City,” the Monarch’s voice boomed. “I ask you . . . is this the pathetic and weak kind of hero that you want protecting you from evil?”
Billy was spinning around really fast now, and he thought he just might hurl. Great, he thought. That’ll help them decide.
He tried to focus on the crowd below. The number of citizens had grown quite a bit, and he could see his Flock of Fury waiting as well. At least he’d get some votes in his favor.
“I ask you again,” the Monarch said. “Is this the sad kind of hero you want protecting you from harm?”
And the citizens of Monstros answered.
“Yes!” they all cried as one.
“Excuse me?” the Monarch asked, laughing nervously. “I must have misheard you, so I’ll ask the question again. People of this great city, is this the kind of hero that—?”
“Yes!” they answered again, not even giving the mysterious hooded figure the chance to finish his question.
The Monarch twisted something on the device in his hand. Instantly, Billy found himself dropping to the street below.
“Hup! Hup!” He watched as Artemus pushed Morty’s wheelchair beneath him just in time to cushion his fall.
“Thanks, guys,” Billy said, climbing off the skeleton.
“Don’t mention it,” Artemus said.
A cloud of dust exploded from Morty’s mouth.
“So be it!” the Monarch was yelling. “If you don’t want me as your hero and savior, then I guess you won’t mind if I put things back the way they were before I arrived!”
From within the sleeves of his robe, the Monarch produced another device that reminded Billy of one of those fancy universal remotes that he’d seen down at the Big Buy store. The hooded figure punched some buttons on the device while pointing it at the villains that had been put on ice.
“Not good,” Billy said, guessing what was about to happen.
One of the octocraft’s tentacles rose, the tip of the limb flipping back to allow a nasty- smelling green cloud to escape—the Gaseous Ghost. The bubble surrounding Vomitor vanished with a loud pop, releasing a stream of spew as well as the squat, armored villain. And finally, the Bounder boys were given back their gravity. The Slovakian Rot- Toothed Hopping Monkey Demons dropped to the street, where they eagerly bounced, happy to have weight and heft again.
“If you won’t accept me as your hero,” the Monarch announced, “then maybe you’ll like me better as a villain.”
The hooded figure paused before raising him arms.
“Let’s continue where we left off, shall we?” he growled. “Let’s tear Monstros City down around these do-gooders’ ears! Attack!” the Monarch screamed raggedly, commanding the released villains into destructive action.
Billy was ready, and as he glanced over at the others, he saw that they too appeared prepared for what was to come.
But nothing could have prepared them for this.
The villains didn’t budge.
“Did you hear me?” the Monarch roared. “Attack Monstros City . . . rip it down . . . make them all pay for rejecting me!”
“No,” Balthasar Bounder said, crossing his long hairy arms. “I don’t think I’m up for it right now.”
All his brothers followed suit, crossing their arms.
“I don’t think they’re up for it either,” Balthasar informed the Monarch. “There’s this little thing called loyalty that seems to be missing from this relationship.”
“I feel so used,” Bailey Bounder said, and began to cry on the shoulder of his brother Bernie.
The hooded figure clenched his fists in rage. “You call yourselves villains?” he cried. He turned his attention to the Gaseous Ghost and Vomitor.
“You will obey me,” he demanded. “Go forth and make them all suffer for their actions!”
Vomitor shook his armored head. “Nope, don’t think so. You’re the one responsible for putting Vomitor in a bubble and making Vomitor float around in his own spew. No, thanks.”
“He’s got a point,” the Ghost said. “Unless you’re going to tell me that you didn’t know anything about me getting sucked up in that vacuum cleaner of yours?”
“This is madness!” the Monarch screamed. “Do I have to do everything for myself?”
He again worked the controls on his giant remote. “Fine, be that way. I’ll just destroy the city myself with weaponry of my own invention!”
The octocraft’s limbs began to writhe in the air, and Billy was just about to call for his team when the mechanical octopus made a really sick- sounding noise.
“What’s wrong with it?” the Monarch asked, turning to stare at the tentacled craft.
“Have you had your oil changed recently?” the slime- covered lackey asked.
“Maybe it needs a tune-up,” said the red- skinned one.
The octocraft was smoldering, big clouds of thick, black smoke billowing from inside.
“How can this be?” the Monarch asked. “My octocraft is the ultimate example of microtechnology and robotics, the cutting edge of mechanical animals built to cause total destruction.”
The craft moaned suddenly and dropped to the ground with a thunderous crash, all eight of its tentacles going completely limp.
“That thing’s down for the count,” Halifax said.
“Wonder what’s wrong? It seemed perfectly fine and ready for mass destruction just a few minutes ago,” Billy added.
Something scrambled out from inside the octocraft—two somethings, actually.
Ferdinand the dragon and Zis-Boom-Bah came running down the platform, their mouths filled with what looked like wires and gears from somewhere inside the mechanical octopus.
“I think we’ve got our answer,” Billy said, watching as the tiny beasties fled into the crowd, finally jumping up into Archebold’s arms.
“There’s my good boy and girl,” the goblin squealed in baby talk, planting kisses atop their heads.
The two continued to chew their octocraft guts happily.
“We should probably think about getting out of here,” the slimy lackey said, pulling his master’s sleeve.
“Yeah, now
might be a good time to think about gettin’ you know, while the gettin’ is good,” said the other, eyeing the crowd.
The Monarch turned to flee the scene.
Billy thought about just letting the guy go. He’d obviously had a really bad day, what with his plans falling apart and then his octocraft breaking down. But then Billy thought better of it. This guy was dangerous and needed to be stopped before he could cause any more trouble.
“Stop right there!” Billy cried in his heroic voice.
The Monarch turned slightly, and glared at Billy from within his hood, but he didn’t stop.
Billy jogged toward the fleeing Monarch and his lackeys. He passed the Bounder boys, who were still standing around with their arms crossed defiantly.
“Don’t look at us,” Balthasar said. “We aren’t doing a thing.”
The Monarch was crawling over a section of limp tentacles when Billy pounced.
The owl swooping in on his prey, he thought. He landed on his stomach just missing the monarch himself but managing to grab hold of his robe.
“Gotcha!” Billy announced.
The Monarch kept running, unaware that Billy was holding on tightly. There was a ripping sound. . . . And suddenly, the robe and hood were torn away to reveal at last the mysterious visage of the Monarch.
Billy couldn’t believe his eyes.
The Monarch was an older man, dressed in the most unusual of outfits. He was wearing what could only have been described as an Owlboy costume.
The Monarch froze in his tracks, looking down at the costume as if seeing it for the very first time.
“I knew his voice sounded familiar!” Artemus cried, and he and his goblin friends came to stand alongside Billy.
“Who is he?” Billy asked.
“That’s Preston Stickwell,” the old goblin announced, pointing at the man. “The missing Owlboy!”
It was as if Billy had been zapped with the paralysis ray all over again. He couldn’t believe it.
The missing Owlboy was the Monarch.
The missing Owlboy was a bad guy.
CHAPTER 10
It was even more disturbing than learning that Darth was Luke’s dad, and that had been pretty darn disturbing.
An eerie silence had fallen over the street as everyone stared at the old man dressed in the Owlboy costume. It was as if somebody had turned the volume down to zero on the stereo of life.
Even Victoria was quiet.
Billy just didn’t know how to react. This was Preston Stickwell, the Owlboy who had disappeared, making way for Billy’s own eventual turn as the costumed hero of Monstros City. Nobody had had any idea what had happened to him, and to see him like this? It was a complete and total nightmare.
And it seemed as if Preston was experiencing a bit of the nightmare himself. The old man looked down at the costume he was wearing, his face wrinkling into a look of absolute horror.
“No,” the old Owlboy said. “What have I done?”
Preston looked really upset, and as he gazed around, Billy thought that he actually looked surprised at what he was seeing. Almost as if he didn’t remember being responsible for any of it.
“Let me talk to ’im,” Artemus said, gripping Billy’s arm and moving toward the man.
“Preston,” the old goblin called out. “It’s me . . . Artemus.”
The former Owlboy’s face went from pained to crazy. “Oh no,” he yelled, his eyes bugging. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.”
Billy was startled by the sudden change in the man’s emotions, which had gone from sad and sorry to angry and wild in a heartbeat. And then there was his voice.
Billy could have sworn that the sound of Preston’s voice had changed, too.
The former Owlboy opened one of the pouches on his belt and removed what Billy recognized to be a smoke bomb.
“He’s gonna make a run for it!” Billy cried as Preston threw the bomb down, shattering the casing and filling the air with thick billowing smoke.
Preston spun around and dove into the smoke, moving pretty spryly for an old dude, Billy thought.
They couldn’t let Preston get away. Billy knew, deep down in his gut, that there was a bigger mystery here . . . a humongoid mystery that needed to be solved. Adjusting his goggles, Billy went to infrared so that he could see the shape of Preston Stickwell’s body heat as the old man and his monstrous lackeys attempted to flee.
“Not so fast, Owlboy,” Billy warned, then turned to his right to find Morty. “Care to give me a hand with this, Morty?”
Billy grabbed hold of the wheelchair and wheeled it into the roiling smoke before the skeletal goblin could even answer.
And his aim couldn’t have been better.
The goblin in the wheelchair seemed to zero in on Preston and his two lackeys like a guided missile, colliding with the back of the former Owlboy’s legs and sending them all spinning into the air—a jumble of arms and legs, wheelchair parts, and bones.
Billy and the others charged through the gradually clearing smoke.
“Good job, Morty!” Artemus cheered as he and the other old goblins retrieved the bones of their friend.
Preston Stillwell lay on the ground, moaning from his collision with Morty. His lackeys lay nearby in an unconscious heap.
“He’s an Owlboy too?” Victoria asked, standing by Billy’s side.
“Used to be,” Billy said.
“I can’t look at him,” Archebold said, turning around and burying his face in Halifax’s shoulder. “It just makes me too sad.”
The troll patted his friend’s shoulder and tried to console him. “There, there, pally. It’ll be all right.”
Billy hoped that what Halifax said was true, but he wasn’t sure. The old goblins were just standing there, disappointment on their faces as they gazed down at the guy who had once been a hero to the city of monsters, but now was something else altogether.
Preston moaned again, his eyelids flickering as he slowly regained consciousness. He moved his head from side to side as if trying to rouse himself from a really bad dream.
“He don’t look like a bad guy,” Victoria said, squatting down beside the former Owlboy for a closer look.
Billy was about to tell her not to get too close, that Preston could still be considered a dangerous super villain, when the little girl pointed something out.
“Ewwww,” she squealed, wrinkling up her nose. “What’s that sticking out of his ear?”
Billy moved a little closer. There was something sticking out of the former Owlboy’s ear. It almost looked like a tail!
“I don’t know what that is,” Billy said. He almost reached down to touch it, but thought better of it. “Does anybody have any tweezers?”
Halifax immediately went through the front pocket of his overalls, pulling all kinds of stuff from the seemingly bottomless pouch. Four salamis, a stepstool, three lit candles and a toolbox filled with tools all came out of the pocket before the tweezers.
“I thought I had a pair,” the troll said, smiling and handing them to Billy.
Billy thanked his friend before turning back to Preston Stickwell, who seemed to be reviving.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Preston demanded. Before the man could cause any more trouble, Billy squeezed the tweezers, and took hold of the segmented tail that stuck out from the old man’s ear canal.
Preston screamed.
“Get away from there. . . . Leave me alone!”
There was real panic in the man’s voice, and that only made Billy more eager to learn what he was pulling on.
Billy gave the tail another good tug. The end squirmed around, trying to escape and crawl back inside Preston’s head.
It’s like trying to pull a piece of spaghetti from a running vacuum cleaner hose, Billy thought, his tongue sticking out of a corner of his mouth as he concentrated. He squeezed the metal pincers tight and kept pulling as hard as he could.
“Is that his brain?” Victoria asked.
“Looks more like some kind of bug,” Archebold said.
“A bug, you say?” the goblin’s grandfather said with a sudden curiosity. He and his pals had just finished reassembling Morty in his wheelchair, and now they turned their full attention to Billy.
“I think it’s coming!” Billy said excitedly, being careful not to pull too hard. That was all he would need, to have a piece of the thing break off and leave the remainder of it to tunnel back inside Preston’s head.
Artemus moved closer, squatting down beside Billy.
“Looks like a worm,” the old goblin observed.
That was exactly what it was.
The worm came free of Preston’s ear with a wet-sounding pop! and it immediately began to squeal.
Billy wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen anything quite this disgusting. The worm had been inside the man’s head.
“Can you say ‘Ewwwwww!’? ” Billy said, holding the tweezers up so everybody could see what he’d caught.
“Son of a gun,” Artemus barked, and the old- timers nodded in understanding.
“What’s going on?” Billy asked.
“That’s not just any old worm,” the goblin said.
“That’s the Brain Worm,” Saul grumbled.
“One of Owlboy’s most dangerous foes,” Percy continued.
Morty coughed out a cloud of dust in solidarity with his brethren.
“The Brain Worm?” Billy questioned, holding the squirming worm closer to his face for a better look.
“Yes, the Brain Worm,” the tiny creature suddenly said, startling Billy. “But it has been many years since somebody last called me by that name.”
“It talks!” Billy squeaked in surprise.
“Of course I talk,” the worm grumbled.
“And it can do much worse than that,” Artemus explained. The old goblin took the tweezers from Billy.
“The Brain Worm was always at the top of our most-villainous list,” he went on. “It has the ability to take over its victims by crawling inside their ears and living in their brain, using their bodies to commit its dastardly crimes.”
The Brain Worm chuckled, dangling from the tweezers. “I did much more than commit crimes!” it explained. “I created a criminal empire. There wasn’t an evildoer in Monstros that wasn’t somehow working for me. I was the Monarch, and I ruled this place with an iron fist.”
The Flock of Fury Page 12
