The Great Powers Outage

by William Boniface

  For my sister Carla, who was never allowed

  to touch my comic books—and still isn’t.

  CONTENTS

  COVER IMAGE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CREDITS PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  PROLOGUE

  Great Ball o’ Fire

  The meteor was hurtling toward me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I tried launching my body into the air, willing myself to fly, but with no luck. The fireball got closer and closer, and just as it was about to hit I raised my arm to ward it off, knowing it was futile.

  And then I woke up, safe in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. It took me a moment to realize I had been dreaming. It was the cool air of the October night drifting across my skin, raising a field of goose bumps, that finally convinced me there wasn’t a flaming meteor coming.

  But there had been, less than two days earlier. In fact all Superopolis had been facing complete destruction at the hands of Professor Brain-Drain. The evil genius had succeeded in his plan to transport the entire city sixty-five million years into the past to the very moment when the site that would become Superopolis had been formed by the impact of an enormous meteor. His plan had been for the city to be destroyed by the same event that created it.

  The neat symmetry of his plot hadn’t distracted me from the realization that it was up to me to stop him. With the help of a villain named Cyclotron, and one of Professor Brain-Drain’s own gadgets, I had used a little ingenuity of my own to return Superopolis to the present just in the nick of time. In the end, Cyclotron turned out not to be a villain after all, and Professor Brain-Drain was marooned one hundred and thirty million years in the past.

  That’s the short version. Along the way, in the guise of the legendary hero Meteor Boy, I also spent a couple of days twenty-five years in the past battling evil. Wait a minute—let me clarify that. I wasn’t disguised as Meteor Boy—I was Meteor Boy, one of the most powerful young heroes in the history of Superopolis. The irony of all this is that I’m actually the least powerful hero in the history of Superopolis. They don’t call me Ordinary Boy for nothing.

  You see, Superopolis is a city of heroes—and villains—and every one of them has a superpower. Except me. But, thanks to a trip through time courtesy of Professor Brain-Drain’s Time Tipler and a mysterious jet pack that allowed me to fly at tremendous speeds, I had the thrill of spending two days battling crime as Meteor Boy—and I had loved it!

  During my adventure in the past I made the acquaintance of the League of Goodness, Superopolis’s first and greatest team of heroes. The team’s leader, Lord Pincushion, provided me hospitality and an opportunity to fight alongside him and the rest of the league. I’m not so sure I did him much of a favor in return. I introduced him to the Amazing Indestructo.

  The thing you need to know about AI (that’s what everyone calls him for short) is that up until a couple of weeks ago, he was my absolute favorite hero. He’s totally indestructible, which gives him a pretty good advantage over any villain, and he’s turned the hero business into a hugely profitable enterprise. Between his TV show, toy lines, packaged food business, and dozens of other endeavors, AI has become incredibly wealthy. The problem is all those things come ahead of actually battling crime. He’s really kind of a creep, to tell the truth. It took me a while to realize it, and most of the population still hasn’t figured it out.

  The only part of my trip to the past that still makes me a little queasy is the fact that I was the one who suggested AI join forces with the League of Goodness. It had been for the best of reasons. The league was bankrupt from the expense of fighting crime, and the Amazing Indestructo needed a well-known name to launch his own career. The league provided the name, and AI soon provided the money.

  Sadly, it didn’t take long for AI to drive the founding members out of the league and replace them with the most incompetent array of nitwits you could imagine. He changed their name to the League of Ultimate Goodness, and set himself up to be the team’s most impressive member.

  My own father had tried to join the LUG a bunch of times. He never realized what a compliment it was that they wouldn’t have him. His name is Thermo. He has the ability to generate enormous levels of heat in his hands. For most of my life he had a job at Dr. Telomere’s Potato Chip Factory heating their massive fryers. But prior to that he had been part of a superhero team called the New Crusaders.

  That’s where he met my mom, Snowflake. She can freeze anything solid just by looking at it. She has a great job at the Corpsicle Coolant Corporation, although I’ve never really known what she does there. Here’s the entry for CCC in the Li’l Hero’s Handbook. The handbook has sections on all the people, places, and even some of the things in Superopolis. I carry it with me constantly!

  LI’L HERO’S HANDBOOK

  PLACES

  CORPSICLE COOLANT CORPORATION

  From its earliest success when it applied for—and received—a patent on winter, CCC has dominated the market for subzero products. Their Chilled Gills line of frozen fish and their Frigi-Fries line of frozen potato products have all been hits. Equally successful is their Vegicles line of frozen vegetables, despite the notable failure of their advertising campaign to convince kids that their vegetables were made by elves who lived in a magic igloo.

  Because of the money my mom makes, Dad was able to quit his job at Dr. Telomere’s and return to crime fighting. He joined some of his former teammates and they’re calling themselves the New New Crusaders . . . and, no, that’s not a misprint.

  Of course, there’s one thing I miss about his old job, and that’s the unlimited supply of free potato chips. Boy, do we eat a lot of them! So does everyone in Superopolis. In fact, the only business more successful than the Amazing Indestructo’s is Dr. Telomere’s chip factory.

  I’m sure it drives AI crazy, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing beats the salty, fried goodness of a bag of Dr. Telomere’s potato chips.

  Mmmm . . . potato chips. With that pleasant thought I felt my eyes drifting shut once again. But only a moment later I was reawakened by a familiar voice.

  “Thank you for saving me, O Boy.”

  I opened my eyes and found myself atop Crater Hill in the center of Telomere Park. It was still the middle of the night. I was dressed in my Meteor Boy costume, and standing in front of me was the cartoon figure of Dr. Telomere, a potato chip wearing a derby hat, p
incenez glasses, and a bow tie. The thought that I was dreaming again never even occurred to me as I talked with the advertising spokescharacter of Dr. Telomere’s Potato Chip Company.

  “You’re welcome,” I answered, as if talking to a potato chip was a routine situation. “But how could I have saved you if you’re not real?”

  “Aren’t I?” he replied with concern as his gloved hands patted at his potato chip body. “Oh dear. Then are any of us real?”

  “I’m real!” I insisted. “I think.”

  “Only because of that, boy!” The potato chip pointed to the night sky. “Only because of that.”

  I looked up and there it was again—a huge flaming meteor heading right for me. I turned back to the potato chip, but he was gone—replaced by the sinister, cackling presence of Professor Brain-Drain. I jolted awake—once more back in my bed. But the image of the fireball stayed with me. I may have escaped it, but it had hit the piece of land where Superopolis now sits. The effects of a collision of that magnitude must have been enormous. Now wide awake, I couldn’t help but wonder if an event like that might still be affecting things even all these millions of years later.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tossed Salad

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A group of vegetables had just robbed the Mighty Mart! I know that sounds ridiculous, but it was true. Even now, an enormous stalk of celery was crossing the parking lot heading right for me. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t really a giant piece of celery (not that such a thing was impossible in Superopolis), but it was a guy dressed like one. And he was trying to get away with a large bag of Maximizer Brand Booster Bars.

  But just as he tried to escape with his loot, a powerful blast of air knocked him to the ground, courtesy of the hero Windbag. As the startled vegetable struggled to get back on his feet, a large ear of corn pushing a shopping cart filled with Maximizer Brand Superdoodlers tripped and fell on top of him.

  “You’re stepping on my leaves, Colonel Corncob,” yelled the celery. “Watch where you’re going!”

  I almost started clapping as my father, the mighty Thermo, strode up to the crumpled vegetables and lifted Colonel Corncob off the flustered stalk of celery.

  “The only place you’ll be going, Celery Stalker, is prison!”

  “Tarnation!” hollered Colonel Corncob as he got a taste of my dad’s power. “I’m feelin’ hotter than a peck of pipin’ peppers!”

  A second later, some of the Colonel’s kernels exploded in my father’s grasp. Amid the confusion, the Celery Stalker made his escape. He didn’t get far before another hero grabbed him and hoisted him effortlessly into the air.

  “The Levitator!” I cheered, as my dad’s teammate used his power to levitate the human-size celery stalk. Wrapping his hands around the villain’s ankles, he began swinging him around in a circle.

  “Batter up!” He laughed as he spun the Celery Stalker faster and faster.

  “And here’s the pitch!” someone added from across the parking lot.

  There, another member of my dad’s team, the Big Bouncer, was rolling toward a horrified-looking onion. Actually, only his head looked like an onion— or more precisely, a shallot. Regardless, as the Big Bouncer smashed into him, he went flying toward the swinging stalk of celery. The Levitator smacked the onion-headed guy with the Celery Stalker, and he went flying across the parking lot, leaving a shower of Maximizer Brand Fudge Brawnies, raining down on the startled onlookers.

  LI’L HERO’S HANDBOOK

  PEOPLE

  NAME: Levitator, The. POWER: Can make anything weightless just by touching it. LIMITATIONS: Except himself. CAREER: Following the disbanding of the New Crusaders, the Levitator became a dietitian whose happy clients always held his hand when weighing in. CLASSIFICATION: An all-around lighthearted guy.

  With everyone’s attention focused on the shower of snack cakes, an irritated-looking chickpea came running up to my father.

  “What da heck are youse guys doin’?!” he sputtered in frustration. “Da script says dat we’s s’posed to be roughin’ youse guys up at foist.”

  “Oh, sorry, Garbanzo,” my dad said, raising his hands defensively as he backed away from Colonel Corncob, who was now missing several kernels from his body.

  “Dat’s da Great Garbanzo to youse,” the cigar-chomping chickpea responded with disgust as he motioned forward another member of his “gang.” “Now let da Broccoli Robber here rough youse up some.”

  The Broccoli Robber was definitely a guy in a costume. His fists were sheathed in big, poofy gloves that looked like broccoli florets. He nervously approached my dad and began punching him feebly. My father almost looked sorry for the guy.

  “You could at least act like I’m hurting you,” the Broccoli Robber whined between breaths.

  “Oh, sure,” Dad replied. “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m powerless . . . against . . . broccoli,” he said in what was supposed to be a weakened voice. He then fell to the ground beneath the Broccoli Robber’s blows.

  “Man, your dad is a lousy actor.”

  I turned to my best friend, Stench, who was standing beside me.

  “Yeah, I know,” I admitted. “Your dad is actually pretty good though.”

  We both looked over to where Stench’s dad, Windbag, was on his knees in front of the guy with the onion head. He was bawling his eyes out.

  “No, he’s pretty bad, too,” Stench said. “That guy’s head actually is an onion and he’s making my dad’s eyes water.”

  Looking around I realized that none of the members of my dad’s team, the New New Crusaders, were very good actors. The Levitator was practically throwing himself at the feet of the Celery Stalker, who could barely maneuver in his unwieldy costume. Not far from them Colonel Corncob was trying to lasso the Big Bouncer, who was standing completely still to make the task easier.

  “Now youse guys see da effects dat vegetables can have on youse.” The Great Garbanzo laughed as he got everyone back on script. “Youse heroes is too weak to even fight back!”

  Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the most honest representation of the “dangers” of vegetables. But, then again, no one here was trying to sell vegetables.

  “Must . . . increase . . . strength,” my dad said robotically as he reached for one of the scattered packages of Maximizer Brand MaxiMuffins.

  Ripping off the wrapper, my dad gave a performance he didn’t need to fake as he shoved the muffins into his mouth. A moment later he slowly got to his feet and delivered another wooden line.

  “I feel my energy returning,” he said. “Listen up, New New Crusaders. These Maximizer Brand snack cakes can give us back the strength these vile vegetables have sapped from us.”

  The Broccoli Robber backed away nervously.

  “And the first thing coming off the menu”—Thermo smacked a fist into his hand—“is broccoli.”

  Dad lunged for the frightened guy in the broccoli costume as the rest of his teammates helped themselves to the scattered snack cakes. The Levitator made light work of the Celery Stalker, grabbing him with both hands and launching him into the air. The piercing scream of the celery ended the moment he landed atop the fleeing Broccoli Robber.

  “Ah say, sir, you are no gentleman,” Colonel Corncob sputtered as the Big Bouncer hurtled toward him. If he thought words could stop the rubbery hero, he was mistaken. BB smacked into him and sent the ear of corn flying—minus another half dozen kernels from his body.

  The guy with the onion head was making a serious attempt to use his power, but Windbag had learned his lesson and stood safely out of range.

  “Cry. Cry! CRY!” the shallot shrieked hysterically.

  “Watch this!” Stench elbowed me as his dad took an enormous breath.

  On cue, Windbag exhaled with such incredible force that the onion-headed guy was blown head over heels into the accumulating pile of vegetables.

  “Now that’s what I call onion breath,” my father said stiffly, following the script. “There
’s only one item this tasteless salad is lacking.”

  With that, each of the four New New Crusaders grabbed a different one of the Great Garbanzo’s limbs. When they had a firm hold, they began swinging him back and forth.

  “Is dis da end of da Great Garbanzo?” the giant chickpea asked dramatically at the height of one of the swings.

  “One . . . two . . . three,” the New New Crusaders chanted in unison before releasing the Great Garbanzo into the air.

  “Brace my fall, boys,” I heard him say to his horrified team members as he flew toward them. They tried to scatter, but he got there too fast and crushed them beneath him.

  With the medley of “criminal” vegetables practically pureed, my father turned to the crowd that had assembled behind us.

  “Vegetables just can’t compare to the power of Maximizer Brand snack cakes,” he said dramatically.

  Stench and I immediately started clapping but quickly realized we were the only ones doing so. We turned around in surprise. There had been at least two hundred people here in the parking lot of the Mighty Mart when the performance began, but now there was no one to be seen. The crowd had vanished.

  “Where is everyone?” my dad asked with alarm. “They’re missing the debut of the New New Crusaders as the official spokesteam for Maximizer snack cakes.”

  “Maximizer Brand snack cakes,” corrected an irritated Great Garbanzo as he got off his groaning comrades. “How many times does I needs to remind youse dat we always has to say “brand”? It prevents us from infringin’ on da manufacturer of shoe lifts wit da same name.”

  “Look.” Stench pointed. “The crowd has moved to the far side of the parking lot.”

  Sure enough, something else had caught the eye of the crowd—something even more exciting than a group of villainous vegetables. Even from where we were standing there was no mistaking who it was—Superopolis’s greatest (self-proclaimed) superhero—the Amazing Indestructo.

  CHAPTER TWO