The Strike Trilogy

by Charlie Wood

  “Well,” Tobin said, “that was fun.”

  The boy and the dog looked across the street; the police officers were leading the bruised and battered thieves out of the hotel and into their squad cars.

  “All in a day’s work,” Keplar replied. “You coming to the museum for training tonight?”

  “No, I gotta meet Jen and Chad over at Jen’s house. I haven’t hung out with them in a while, and I promised I’d see them tonight. What time is it?”

  Keplar looked at his watch. “Almost eight.”

  “Oh, crap—I was supposed to be there an hour ago. I gotta go.”

  Tobin dashed down the street.

  “It’ll take you at least an hour to get home,” Keplar told him.

  “Not if I try out my new car.”

  “Well, I’ll be looking forward to your funeral then.”

  Tobin turned around and shrugged. “Don’t worry, it can’t be that hard. It’s just a car, right? See ya tomorrow.”

  “All right, good luck.”

  As Tobin turned the corner, Keplar revved up his motorcycle and headed onto the street. Before he took off, however, he noticed a beautiful blonde woman in her early twenties walking along the sidewalk. As she strolled by, the dog watched her carefully through his helmet.

  “Hey there,” the husky said. “Any chance you got a thing for big blue hairy guys?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Fifteen minutes outside of Boston, Tobin was driving his car down a quiet back road, away from the main highway. He was running late again to meet up with his friends, but knew there was one way to make up some time.

  “Okay,” he said, looking around the deserted road. “Nobody else around.” The boy opened a hatch on his dashboard, revealing a series of buttons. “Let’s see how this ‘Bolt Racer’ works.”

  Taking a deep breath, Tobin pushed one of the buttons and held it down with his finger. “I am terrified,” he said to himself. Then, after clearing his throat, he said in a clear, assertive voice: “Change to Flying Mantis.”

  As Tobin nervously gripped his vehicle’s steering wheel, the run-down, dinged-up, 2002 model, aqua station wagon suddenly spouted sleek, midnight blue wings from its sides. Then, with a mechanical whirring and humming from both inside and outside the car, the entire vehicle suddenly transformed: gone was the aqua station wagon—now Tobin was driving a dark blue vehicle that resembled a menacing, flying praying mantis.

  “Okay,” Tobin said. “Now what?”

  As if an answer to his question, an engine on the back of the vehicle roared and shot out a streak of red flame. Before Tobin could grasp what was about to happen, he and his vehicle lifted off the road and rocketed straight up into the air.

  “Aaaaaaaaaaah!” the boy screamed, as he was pinned against his seat like an astronaut during take-off, looking out the windshield at the zooming sky in front of him. Gritting his teeth, he glanced down at the speedometer: 120 miles per hour.

  Suddenly, Tobin’s stomach lurched, and the vehicle finished its take-off and leveled itself at cruising altitude. At least he was now facing forward, but Tobin still couldn’t control the Flying Mantis; as he screamed and fumbled with the steering wheel, his vehicle was dipping and swooping, crashing through the treetops and nearly dive-bombing the cars below him on the street, which were swerving wildly at the sight of the unidentified flying object being piloted by a terrified teenage boy.

  Not far from Tobin, a college student named Brett and his new girlfriend Tanya were making out in Brett’s open Mustang convertible. They were parked on a quiet cliff overlooking the skyline of Boston, and Brett could tell Tanya was nervous.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “I don’t know, Brett. I’m not comfortable. Somebody might drive by.”

  Brett shook his head. “I already told you, Tanya: we’re all alone. No one is gonna drive by, I promise. Okay? Just calm down.”

  “Okay.”

  Brett and Tanya resumed their kissing. The moment Tanya relaxed and got more into the romantic moment, however, a giant flying insect made out of midnight blue metal zoomed by directly over their heads.

  “Sorry!” Tobin shouted from the open window.

  The force and speed of the Flying Mantis sent dirt and litter swirling around the open convertible, while also whooshing! Tanya’s hair into a wild mess. When the flying vehicle was gone, Brett and Tanya sat in shocked silence for a moment, until Tanya reached over and slapped Brett in the face.

  Tobin, meanwhile, had more important things to worry about: he was in a panic, still trying to get the Flying Mantis under control. Reaching out with one hand, he pushed the button on the control panel of his vehicle again and held it down.

  “Change to Ion Speeder!” he shouted. “Change to Ion Speeder!”

  After swooping down and hitting the street at 140 miles per hour, the Flying Mantis screeched onto its landing gear and metallically morphed once again: this time it turned into an ultra-sleek, ultra-fast, midnight blue convertible, looking like the world’s coolest sports car from the year 2525. Rocketing down the open road, Tobin could only scream and hold on tight.

  “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhaaaaaaaahhhh!”

  Heading straight toward a fork in the road, Tobin was going too fast to turn his steering wheel, and instead he drove headlong into a cornfield. As the corn stalks whizzed by him, battering the sides of his car and sending ears of corn flying, Tobin once again pushed the “Morph” button on his dashboard.

  “Change to Off-Roader!” he yelled. “Change to Off-Roader!”

  The sports car now turned into an off-road buggy, with big, bulky wheels attached to springy shocks, and a metal cage of yellow armor around the front of the car. The Off-Roader smashed through the corn stalks until finally bursting free from the field…and directly into a ravine.

  Springing along the rocks and water, Tobin splashed through the ravine and bounced off its banks like a rabid Kangaroo. After being rattled around the inside of the vehicle for several hundred feet, the boy’s trip suddenly smoothed out, and his bones stopped rattling. He sighed. Phew. What a relief.

  When the boy opened his eyes, however, he realized why his journey had smoothed out: he had driven straight off a cliff. He and his vehicle were now in the open air, and falling face first toward the ground.

  “Flying Mantis!” Tobin shouted, holding the “Morph” button on his dashboard. “Flying Mantis!”

  The Off-Roader mercifully morphed back into the Flying Mantis and shot back up into the air. Tobin was no longer falling to his death, but he was once again soaring uncontrollably through the sky.

  “God, I wish this thing had an Auto-Pilot!” Tobin bellowed.

  A woman’s voice then spoke through the vehicle’s speakers:

  “Auto-Pilot on,” she said calmly. “Enjoy your ride.”

  The Flying Mantis took control of itself, straightened out, and flew quietly and quickly toward Bridgton, Massachusetts. As he cruised smoothly through the air, Tobin sat back. He was breathless, stunned, and shaking.

  “Are you kidding me?!” the boy shouted.

  Twenty minutes later, Tobin was back in his small, seaside hometown of Bridgton, Massachusetts. As he parked his car and walked to the back door of his friend Jennifer Robins’ house, he realized that he hadn’t been to her house in almost two weeks. All through the last two years of middle school and the first three years of high school, Tobin had been to her house two, even three times a week, either to hang out with Jennifer and their friend Chad, or to have dinner with Jennifer and her family. Now, though, Tobin’s daily life was becoming very hectic, and he was finding it difficult to go back to his usual routine. After knocking on the back door of the house, he let himself in.

  “Hey guys,” Tobin said, “sorry I’m late, I was—”

 
Tobin looked into the living room; Jennifer was there, sitting on a couch and watching television by herself, with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Where’s Chad?” Tobin asked.

  Jennifer didn’t turn around. “He left about a half hour ago.”

  “Oh.” Tobin held up a bag of popcorn. He had picked it up on the way over to Jennifer’s, after his Bolt Racer had finally morphed back into a 2002 aqua station wagon. “Well…do you still wanna watch the movie?”

  She stood up. “We already watched it ‘cuz we didn’t think you were coming.” She handed the DVD in its red envelope to Tobin. “It sucked.”

  “Oh.” Tobin watched Jennifer walk toward the door. “I’ll make sure to let Netflix know. This movie will feel the wrath of the one star.” The boy mimed clicking the button on a computer mouse. “Click. One star.” He clicked his imaginary mouse again. “Click.”

  A silence. Jennifer put her coat on.

  “Ya know?” Tobin said. “One star, like when you return a movie and rate it on the—”

  “Yeah,” Jennifer said. “I know.”

  Tobin’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry. Let’s do something else. We could go get ice cream. We’ll have Chad meet us there.”

  “I can’t—I already made other plans. C’mon, walk with me.”

  They walked outside and toward Jennifer’s car.

  “Who’d you make plans with?” Tobin asked.

  “Tommy Evans. We’re going to his friend Josh’s house. You can come with us, if you want.”

  “Um, no thanks. Josh gave me a wedgie freshman year that I can still feel, especially right before it rains, for some reason.” They reached Jennifer’s car. “You’re hanging out with Tommy Evans? Since when?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He asked me to dinner a couple weeks ago.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you went?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tobin furrowed his brow and shook his head. “How did I not know about this?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t really see you anymore, Tobin.”

  He sighed. “I know, and I want to fix that, I do. I’m just having a hard time...balancing everything.”

  “I know. I understand completely. Chad and I, we both do. We want you to keep doing what you’re doing, Tobin—it’s incredibly brave and important and absolutely amazing. We literally couldn’t be more proud of you, and I hope you know that. I just—hopefully you’ll have more time to hang out with us soon, too. I know that must sound incredibly selfish, but…”

  Tobin nodded. “I know. But definitely Friday night, right? The prom will make up for it. You’re gonna get sick of me you’ll be seeing me so much. I’ll be dancing you off your feet all night long.”

  Tobin began dancing a Mexican hat dance around Jennifer, snapping his fingers and shuffling his feet in a stutter-step. She stood there. Tobin continued the dance. Nobody said anything. It got awkward.

  “You don’t seem to be too enthused about me dancing around you,” Tobin said, not giving up on his dance.

  “Ugh,” Jennifer said. She closed her eyes and threw her head back. “This sucks.”

  Tobin stopped dancing. “What?”

  “I’m not going to the prom with you guys.”

  Tobin was shocked. “You aren’t? Why?”

  “Because…” She thought it over. “Because I’m gonna go with some other people. But I’ll still hang out with you guys when I get there and stuff—it’ll be just the same as if we went together, we just won’t be…arriving together.”

  Tobin looked at her. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re gonna make me go by myself with Chad and his weirdo foreign exchange student date, who I’m pretty sure is a mail order bride? Who are you going with?”

  “Tommy.”

  Tobin threw his arms out and let them fall at his sides, shaking his head. “What is going on here?”

  “I don’t know. I told you—Tommy and I have been hanging out a lot and he asked me to the prom last week…so I said yes. I was waiting to tell you.”

  “But we always said that if we didn’t have dates to the senior prom, we would…”

  A silence. Jennifer looked at Tobin, sad.

  “Why do you wanna go with Tommy Evans?” Tobin asked. “I mean, sure, he’s ridiculously handsome. And athletic. And smart. And he smells how a man should smell. But other than that...”

  Jennifer laughed and hugged Tobin.

  “I’m sorry, Tobin. I miss you. We all do. Let’s hang out Thursday night, okay? Are you doing anything?”

  “I’m supposed to go out on patrol, but I’m gonna tell Orion I have to skip it. It’s time I hung out with you guys again.”

  “Okay, it’s a plan then. See you in school tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jennifer got into her car and drove away. Tobin watched her go. Then he grabbed a handful of popcorn from his bag and shoved it into his mouth.

  “This sucks,” he said, chomping away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next day, Tobin and Chad were playing basketball in the Bridgton High School gymnasium during their Advanced Physical Fitness class (the school had just recently reopened after its extensive reconstruction after being nearly destroyed in Tobin’s battle against Vincent Harris seven months ago.) Advanced Physical Fitness was a right of passage for seniors at Bridgton High, as its loosely monitored syllabus consisted of running a few laps, lifting a few weights, and shooting a few hoops. But, mostly, everyone knew, it consisted of talking with your friends for forty-five minutes each day.

  “Why do I feel like I’m missing everything?” Tobin asked, as Chad stood at the free throw line and sunk a basket.

  “Because you are.”

  “Hey!”

  Chad laughed. “You have been incommunicado lately, dude. And by ‘lately,’ I mean the last five-to-six months.”

  “I know. I’ve just been out every night, either with Keplar or by myself. It was quiet for a while, but now it’s getting kinda crazy again. Orion says crime gets worse as the weather gets warmer. I don’t know.”

  “Don’t worry about it, bro. Seriously. What you have to do is so much more important than hanging out with us idiots.” Chad weighed the options with his hands. “Saving lives, fighting crime? That’s a little more important than sneaking into the beach at night and partying until the cops show up.”

  “Yeah, I know, but...god, that sounds like fun.”

  Chad laughed. “I told you a million times, dude, there’s one way we could hang out more often: new sidekick, right here.” He pointed at himself. “And, if I help you, you’ll get done so much quicker.”

  “But you don’t have any superpowers.”

  “So? Batman doesn’t have any superpowers.”

  “No, but Batman is a badass. And he didn’t cry during my seventh birthday party sleepover when we watched ‘Toy Story 2.’”

  “Dude, that was like ten years ago. Let it go, please.”

  After a quick change out of their gym clothes, Tobin and Chad were walking down the crowded school hallway; Tobin was heading to his next class, while Chad was heading to lunch.

  “So apparently Jennifer hangs out with Tommy Evans now?” Tobin asked.

  “Welcome to this century,” Chad laughed. “Mr. Hastings practically announces it over the intercom every morning. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “How and why did this happen?”

  “Um, let me see: she’s smoking hot and the nicest person ever, and he’s the most popular guy in school? It’s not that hard to figure out.”

  “I know. I just didn’t think he was her type.”

  “What’s her type?”

  “I
don’t know. Funny guys. He’s not funny. He may be a lot of things, but he is not funny.”

  “I don’t know, dude. He’s in my Photography class. He’s pretty funny.”

  “He’s not funny,” Tobin repeated. “If she likes him ‘cuz he’s funny, that’s friggin’ bull.”

  “You should just be happy for her, dude. She really likes him, I can tell.”

  “What, are they, like, going out or something?”

  The bell rang. Chad headed down the hall toward the cafeteria.

  “Gotta go to lunch,” he said. “See ya.”

  Tobin yelled out after him. “Hey—are they going out? I thought they were only… hanging out or something. Are they really going out? Hey—are they?”

  Chad turned around with a wave and a laugh. “Later, Tobin!”

  Tobin stood in the hallway as the rest of the students rushed into their classrooms. Soon he was standing all by himself.

  “Tommy Evans,” he said with disgust. “I’m funnier than Tommy Evans.”

  At 8:07 that night, Tobin was lying on his bed in his room and staring at the ceiling. He was hoping to get some homework done since he didn’t have to work at the grocery store that night, but, instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had learned from Chad that day.

  Tobin reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone. He quickly typed out a text message to his friend Julie Meyers:

  HEY JULIE. AM I FUNNIER THAN TOMMY EVANS?

  Tobin waited for a response from Julie, but instead heard a voice from near his bedroom window.

  “Who’s Tommy Evans?”

  “Ah!” Tobin screamed. Startled, he looked across the room: his robotic friend Scatterbolt was sitting on the edge of his open bedroom window. The three-and-a-half-foot tall, purple-and-silver robot had recently begun a habit of climbing up to Tobin’s room when he needed to ask Tobin a question, even though Tobin and Orion had repeatedly told him it was dangerous, since it had a good chance of making the evening news if someone saw a robot walking around Bridgton, Massachusetts. But, Scatterbolt insisted, he always made sure to only visit Tobin when it was safe and nobody was around, so there wasn’t anything to worry about. Plus, it was worth the risk; Earth was so much more interesting than boring old Capricious, anyway.