by Adam Graham
“Yeah, this really was the kid’s first time, and he only took a few items. Our man’s cleaning out everything. That boomerang guy doesn’t appear to have anything to do with the burglary, but I can hold him for assault. He said to tell you that his lawyer will require you to reveal your secret identity, if it goes to trial.”
What? Powerhouse frowned. “I can’t do that! Um, could you hold him until after we catch these miscreants? If he keeps coming up behind me and throwing a boomerang at my head, I might well turn green and go all ‘Powerhouse smash!’ on him.”
“Understood. I’ll hold him.”
“Thanks. Bye.” Powerhouse followed the robotic supermodel for another forty-five minutes as she crept along the street. Finally, she halted in front of a three thousand-square-foot brick house with a four-car garage another mile up the driveway. She sauntered all the way to it. The first garage door opened enough for her to walk through.
Powerhouse texted Nachez before following her in.
The door slammed shut.
Powerhouse turned on his personal force field.
A gray-haired man stood in the middle of the garage with half a dozen coffee pots and four supermodels. One supermodel looked like Miss Invisible, but she was wearing a red blouse and black slacks rather than Miss Invisible’s costume. A silver medal hung around the gray-haired man’s neck. He wore a white lab coat with a black jump suit and a metal backpack with a wide-brimmed black hat. He held a silver colored nozzle that connected to a hose in the backpack.
The man let go of the nozzle and slapped his hands together. “Greetings Powerhouse! I am the Silver Medal, and I have lured you here to your doom.”
Another one? Powerhouse rolled his eyes. “Congrats, you would be supervillain wannabe number one-oh-four.”
“I knew you were onto my ingenuous plan, and I was afraid you’d find my hideout, so I had Minerva lead you here.”
“Seriously?” Powerhouse chortled. “You were afraid I was going to find your hideout, so you had your android lead me right to it.”
“My therapist says I need to face my fears.”
I highly doubt this is what he or she had in mind. “Did you mention to your shrink that one of your fears was becoming a lousy villain and going to prison?”
The Silver Medal glared. “With my patent-pending matter converter, I’ve turned all the possessions of multiple Seattle citizens into particle fragments resembling coffee grounds.” The Silver Medal pulled a remote control from his pocket. “They’ll rehydrate for me at a later date in another city, where I can sell them and reap a fortune when I press this button.” The Silver Medal let loose a maniacal supervillain laugh.
“Why coffee grounds?”
“Hello, Seattle is the coffee capital.”
“Would you use instant Idaho potatoes in Boise?”
The Silver Medal shook his fist. “You won’t defeat me at anything, Powerhouse! For I am the Silver Medal. I have matched wits with Earth’s greatest heroes. Two weeks ago, I challenged that fat private detective Neil Worthington and almost defeated him.”
“I don’t suppose you would’ve if it weren’t for those darn kids on 40th Street?”
The Silver Medal puffed out his lip. “Well, a month before that, I went toe to toe with Miss Invisible.”
“Oh, she emailed me about this. You hired that android that looks like her out for a modeling job as Miss Invisible and then used it to steal half a million dollars in designer original clothes. The real Miss Invisible caught you and got the clothes back.”
“But I almost defeated her!” The Silver Medal put up his index finger. “Two months before that, I was in Europe, where I tangled with Captain France.”
“Oh no.” Powerhouse pressed his lips together against his laugher. “You almost defeated Captain France? You fiend!”
“Exactly, and your case is the most hopeless.”
What? Powerhouse wrinkled his brow. “Why am I supposed to be impressed that you’ve lost to a bunch of people?”
The Silver Medal scowled. “No, that supervillain would be called the Loser! The Silver Medal only finishes second. It all goes back to my high school days. The one time my father was proud of me.” He touched his silver medal. “I won this Silver Medal at the Nebraska State Games in the long jump when I was eighteen, and it defined my life. I am the Silver Medal, and you will soon die. First, however, you may have one conversation with whatever higher power you happen to believe in.”
“Ooh, I’m shaking.” Powerhouse yawned.
“You’ll regret that.” Silver Medal fired his weapon at Powerhouse.
Powerhouse jumped out of the way. The four androids fired rifles at him, their beams bouncing off his personal force field. He superimagined a combination laser cannon and missile launcher on his arm and fired at each of the androids’ weapons.
They exploded.
The Silver Medal fired at Powerhouse.
Coffee grounds landed on his force field. No, those coffee grounds used to be his force field. Whoa. Time to stop playing. Powerhouse sped around the garage at his top speed, stirring up a mighty wind.
“Stand still!” The Silver Medal seemed to speak in slow motion.
“As you like.” Powerhouse stopped beside his campiest enemy yet. He ripped the nozzle of his weapon out of the dope’s hand and decked the Silver Medal, who literally collapsed to the garage floor.
Detective Nachez entered.
“You missed the fun!” Powerhouse waved at the Silver Medal. “Here’s your burglar. He turned all the stuff he stole into coffee grounds and put them in these pots.”
Nachez glanced around at the coffee pots. “How are we going to prove it?”
“Easy, we rehydrate the stuff with the remote.”
“You mean this?” The Silver Medal stood and put the remote control at his feet. He stomped on it, crushing it.
Powerhouse snorted. “What does that do?”
“Oh, if there were such a thing as you say, it’d require a precise mixture of water and this remote would ensure the coffeemakers added just the right amount to reconstitute the items. Too much or too little and you’d end up with only bad tasting coffee. Without this remote, you have no proof of your fantastic story, thus law has no way to press charges against me.” The Silver Medal smirked. “You may take the gold, but the Silver Medal never loses.”
We’ll see about that.
Naomi stood in the hall of the auditorium wearing a lined, pleated blue dress that fell to just above her knee. She looked down the hall and called out to Derrick’s piano teacher. “Mrs. Black, Mrs. Black?”
A thin woman in her early thirties with a boy haircut turned. She was dressed in a white blouse and a black pair of slacks. “Mrs. Jensen?”
“No, Johnson. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I have another son who has a soccer game cross town right now. Could you text me twenty minutes before Derrick comes on?”
“Sure.”
“Here.” Naomi reached into her purse, grabbed a business card with her cell phone number on it, and handed it to Mrs. Black. “Call my cell.”
“Okay. Derrick won’t be on for a while. I’ll be in touch, Mrs. Jensen.”
“Johnson.”
“Right.”
Naomi trotted to the minivan, got in, started the car, and checked the clock on the dash. Fifteen minutes to game time.
She pulled out, drove west, and turned on the classical music station. A late model Mercedes Benz came up on her left and merged into her lane.
We ought to have a Mercedes. She frowned. Maybe James was right. Dave was making a ton on royalties. They could get a really nice house and car—and have less to give to charity. She grimaced. What argument did she have against his philanthropic impulses? “I want to drive what all the other CEOs drive?” Did she really want to set that example to her kids?
The Mercedes slowed to a crawl.
She glanced at the speedometer. Well under ten miles an hour. That was ridiculous. She f
lipped over to the talk station and stamped her left foot as the commercials droned on.
“Traffic is backed up across Bryerton,” the radio traffic reporter finally said. “There are a couple of crashes, one on Jackson Boulevard and one on Richards. No one hurt, but some serious damage.”
Naomi scowled. Both of those were right in her way. Worse, about half a dozen soccer games were scheduled today at the same venue as James’s game. She glanced to the right at a vacant building We’ll get to that game one way or another.
She turned off the right and drove behind the building. “Mini Van, turn invisible to all detection methods and change to a hovercraft.”
The minivan complied with her request, with a series of buttons appearing on the dashboard.
She pressed a button on the steering column.
The minivan rose to five hundred feet in the sky.
Perfect. She was high enough to avoid any buildings and low enough to avoid running into any planes.
She flew through the sky at a hundred miles an hour. Wow, this was like the hot air balloon ride Dave had taken her on when they’d first moved to Bryerton, only faster.
A flock of Canadian geese crossed her path.
Oh no, they couldn’t see or hear her. Evasive maneuvers required. She pressed a button on the dash.
The car dropped one hundred feet, missing the birds.
She looked out the window. A ton of cars were lined up to get into the sports complex. Five miles in three minutes. Not bad.
There was her stop, but she couldn’t land there. If she did, she’d have to have the minivan re-appear in that crowded parking lot.
She turned the hovervan’s steering wheel around and flew a block in the opposite direction. The library drive thru book drop. There was no one there. She could reappear and then get in the line of cars to get into the sports complex.
She landed behind the brick library. “Van, return to normal and become visible.”
Now to put this thing in gear.
Crunch!
Naomi lurched forward. Behind her, a 1980s compact car driven by an old man had hit the back fender of the minivan.
Oh no. She put the car in park, jumped out of the van, ran to the back bumper, and surveyed the damage. No damage to our car, but there’s a big dent in his fender.
“Stranger’s car, you don’t have a big dent.” she whispered.
The dent vanished.
The old man got out of the card. He ambled over. He was balding and wore wire-frame glasses, a green checkered shirt, and khakis. “Ma’am, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. It’s like you came out of nowhere.”
You don’t know how right you are. “I’m fine. How about you?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t going fast.” He glanced down at his vehicle and grinned. “Wow. I’ve had a dent on that bumper for the last ten years, but it’s gone!”
Oops. “That’s good. Weird, but good.”
“Yeah. Um, if you don’t mind, we can just go about our business.”
Yay! “Yeah, my son’s got a soccer game.”
“Really? Must be a pretty formal game.”
Naomi glanced down. “I also had a piano recital.”
“Ah. Yeah, overdressed to the soccer game is definitely better than underdressed at a yuppie piano recital.” The old guy returned to his vehicle.
Sighing, she got back in her minivan. He was right. She’d be way overdressed.
Well, a quick change was one thing the superimagination could handle.
Powerhouse dialed his cell phone as he sat in his titanium chair in the garage of the Silver Medal. A busy signal buzzed in his ear.
Two uniformed police offers present meandered to where the Silver Medal sat on a crate. He was laughing maniacally. “There’s no way you’ll be able to hold me.”
Detective Nachez re-entered. “Well, well, well, Silver Medal. Turns out the City of New York wants you for grand theft for that fashion show robbery. Even if we can’t prove this burglary thing against you, we’ll be sending you back to face trial there.”
The Silver Medal frowned. “But I will still have defeated Powerhouse.”
Powerhouse redialed. “Not if I get through to the Tech Wizard.”
Busy signal.
Nachez patted Powerhouse’s shoulder. “We can impound these coffee pots. We should be able to figure it out.”
Powerhouse dialed again. Ring. He grinned. “I’m through.”
A call screener picked up. “The Tech Wizard Show. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Powerhouse.”
“Okay, from what city?”
Powerhouse blinked. “Seattle.”
“And what’s your issue?”
“A supervillain wannabe broke a remote. I need the Tech Wizard’s help to rehydrate the belongings of Seattle residents.”
Click.
What was that? He shook his phone. “Hello? Did I lose connection?”
Nachez snickered. “They thought you were a practical joker. Don’t worry about it. I can take him in.”
“Could you give me a few more minutes to obtain the Wizard’s advice?”
Nachez sighed. “The lab boys will be done here in half an hour.”
“Give me twenty minutes.”
“You got them.”
“All right, I’m off to see the Wizard.” Powerhouse resisted the urged to sing, grabbed the remote, and superimagined a receipt into Nachez’s lap.
“Thanks.”
“Welcome.” Powerhouse ran out of the garage, took off, flew four miles, and landed in front of a radio station. Now to get past security. He dashed passed the reception desk at moderate speed, ran out to the sound booth, and tapped on the glass.
Behind the glass sat a gray-haired man with a slim build wearing a blue polo shirt and a wizard’s hat. He glanced up and smiled, waving Powerhouse in. Powerhouse walked in the booth.
The Tech Wizard stood. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a surprise guest in the studio, and I mean it’s a surprise to me, too. It’s Powerhouse.”
“Hello, Tech Wizard.”
The Tech Wizard pointed to a spare headset and muted his mic. “Put that on.”
Powerhouse complied and sat. “Greetings, mighty Tech Wizard.”
“Good to see you, Invulnerable Powerhouse. Kids and I are big fans. What brings you here today?”
“I need your help in restoring some stolen property. I captured an alleged villain, and he allegedly crushed this remote which can rematerialize it.”
“Let me take a look. Can I show it on the webcam?”
“Afraid not. Could be evidence.”
“Okay, I’ll turn away from it.”
Powerhouse handed over the remote.
The Tech Wizard turned away from the camera. “Huh. Well, Powerhouse, this is actually pretty simple. This is a standard universal remote that you’d purchase at Radio Shack with a couple of modifications. It’s pretty simple to rewire. I’ve got schematics for this particular remote. I’ll print those up for you during the break. We’ll be right back.” He pressed a button. “And we’re at break.”
“Thank you, mighty Tech Wizard. You’ve served the cause of justice.”
The Tech Wizard smiled. “And you’ve served the cause of my ratings.”
Powerhouse re-entered the garage holding the re-assembled remote while two uniformed cops guarded the Silver Medal, who was in handcuffs.
The Silver Medal gasped. “How did you do it?”
Powerhouse snickered and puffed out his chest. “You shouldn’t buy your remotes at Radio Shack. The Tech Wizard was able to re-connect all the wires using only the device’s online manual.”
The Silver Medal screamed and shook his handcuffed hands. “Curse you, Radio Shack, and your little, mass-produced items! I thought I could save a step of design by tuning the coffee pots to the code for an RCA VCR to operate my machine.”
Wow, this guy made him feel smart. “Thanks. I would’ve had to spend all day trying to figure
out what code to use if you hadn’t told me that.”
“Curse you, Powerhouse!”
Nachez entered holding a cell phone in his left hand. “Chief wants to know when we’ll have this resolved.”
Powerhouse beamed. “We are ready to rehydrate!”
“Uh-okay.” Nachez turned to the phone. “He says we’re ready to rehydrate the stuff.” He paused. “Okay.” Nachez hung up.
Powerhouse dusted off his grimy chest. “Let’s take one coffee pot outside and plug it into the outlet on the side of the house before we try doing all of them.”
“Yeah.” Nachez pressed his lips together. “That’s a good idea.”
Leaving one officer behind with the Silver Medal, Nachez and Powerhouse accompanied the other officer as he carried the pot outside and plugged it into an outlet.
Powerhouse entered the code for the RCA VCR and then pressed the play button. The coffee pot percolated and then burst open.
Out of it came several thousand dollars in jewels, an iPod, a TV/DVD player, a pool table, several designer outfits, and a painting of dogs playing cards. The items spilled out in front of the open garage door.
Silver Medal called, “Powerhouse superimagined all that stuff!”
Nachez growled. “Not going to hold up in court. We didn’t give him the stolen property list, but I remember the painting of the dogs and the pool table. I bet if we check the stolen property list, we’ll find the serial numbers all match, too.” Nachez turned to Powerhouse. “To blunt this sort of defense, and to make sure nothing gets damaged, I think we can handle the rest of these downtown.”
That would be best. Powerhouse sighed. “Certainly.”
The Silver Medal screamed and lunged for Powerhouse as two officers held him back. “I almost defeated you! Almost.”
Powerhouse chuckled as he soared into the air. “Almost isn’t good enough, criminal. Powerhouse away!”
Chapter 12
Plan One From Another Dimension
Naomi sat in the stands watching James’ game. She wore a red T-shirt and jeans. James had the soccer ball and was moving down the field. He kicked the soccer ball toward the goal. The goalie bounced the ball off his head to a teammate.
