Frost gave me a, well, frosty look. Scorpion clenched and unclenched his hands into giant fists, as though he wanted to pound me into oblivion.
“Did I mention that any move on your part, one way or the other, and the bomb goes off? The whole area is wired. If I let go of this trigger, the bomb goes off. If I so much as sneeze, the bomb goes off.”
“So much for your brilliant plan,” Frost hissed at Malefica. “Your little pet project is going to blow us to hell and back!”
“Shut up!” Malefica plastered a bright smile on her face. “Miss Cole, I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. There’s no need to get violent.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Really? What sort of arrangement? Let me guess. You’re going to offer me money and power and all the usual perks, right? Perhaps even offer to make me some sort of partner in your evil empire. Then, of course, when my guard is down and you no longer have any use for me, you’ll shove me into one of those vats or come up with some equally clever and painful way of killing me. Sorry. I’ve read that story before. I don’t like the ending.”
Malefica’s green eyes grew as hard as marbles. “Pity. I would have so enjoyed double-crossing you. I guess I’ll just have to settle for killing you now.”
Her eyes began to glow. She rose into the air, using her telekinesis to move out of range of the bomb. She sailed through the air and set herself down forty feet away. Malefica raised her hands, picked up Scorpion and Frost with her mind, and put them down near her next to the wooden swing set. It happened in seconds.
Something tugged on me, and a giant, invisible fist tried to pull the bomb trigger out of my hand. I yanked my hand back, but the invisible fist was stronger. It pried my fingers open and closed itself around the trigger. I swiped at it, but the device dodged my grasp. The trigger floated through the air until it was in Frost’s line of sight.
Frost stared at it, and ice formed on the device. A moment later, it looked like a very large ice cube. Malefica let go of it, and the trigger clattered to the ground. Useless.
“It seems that your little plan has hit a snag. No trigger, no bomb, no explosion. Pity.” Malefica laughed and blew me a kiss.
Frost pulled out his freezoray gun and leveled it at me. “Shall I put her on ice?”
“I say we just tear her apart with our bare hands,” Scorpion chimed in. His poison-tipped talons gleamed in the moonlight.
“No, I think we need to come up with something a little more special for Miss Cole for refusing to go quietly.” Malefica tapped her booted foot on the grass. “How about Frost hits her with his freezoray gun, then you shatter her icy limbs one at a time?”
“Works for me,” Scorpion replied.
“I hate to interrupt,” I called out. “After all, it is terribly fascinating to watch you three plot my demise, but there’s something you should know.”
“Oh really?” Frost sneered. “What are you going to do now? Plead for your life?”
“No. I just thought you should know I’ve got another trigger.” I took my left hand out of my pocket and held up the metal device so they could see it.
I hadn’t rigged the ground in front of me or the bench or even myself. I just said that to keep the ubervillains away. Without superpowers, I could never go toe-to-toe with any of them, even if I had a bottle of pepper spray the size of a jumbo jet. Instead, I’d rigged the swing set. According to Jasper, explodium produced a concentrated blast with no shrapnel and no debris. It sucked everything in toward itself. His bombs had a blast radius of no more than twenty-five feet, meaning I should be safe at this distance.
By moving away from me and my supposed bomb, the Terrible Triad had floated right into my trap. I might have been crazy trying to take on the Triad by myself, but I didn’t have a death wish.
Malefica’s eyes began to glow again. I knew I only had seconds before she yanked the second trigger out of my hand.
I loosened my grip—
A silver sword sailed through the air. It embedded itself in a nearby tree, which burst into flame.
“No, no, no!” Malefica shrieked.
Striker leapt out from the shadows and landed on Scorpion. The two went down in a pile of flailing arms and legs. A line of flames cut the two off from Malefica and Frost.
“Hit her, Frost!” Malefica screamed. “Hit her now!”
Frost pulled the trigger on his freezoray gun.
I threw my hands up, still clutching the trigger. Instead of an icy blast, something stung my shoulder. I looked at my jacket, where a tiny dart stuck out. What the hell—
Another tree erupted into flames. Frost threw switches and raked back the slide on his fancy-looking gun. Scorpion and Striker struggled on the ground. They rolled over and over each other, hitting, punching, kicking, clawing. They sounded like a marching band clanging and crashing together. A trash can zipped up into the air and zoomed toward Malefica. She held out her hand, stopping it.
Still holding the bomb trigger, I ran around the bench. While grateful for Striker’s intervention, I couldn’t help but be annoyed. Another three seconds, and Malefica and Co. would have been snoring through dirt. Permanently. My problem, Striker’s problem, would have been solved. Now, I couldn’t blow the bomb without catching the Fearless Five in the blast. Plus, I had no desire to be at ground zero during a superhero-ubervillain battle. They’d destroy the whole park before they were done. This time, I didn’t have a police barricade to keep me a safe distance away.
A figure wrapped in red-hot flames emerged from the shadows to my left. I put my hands up to ward off the intense heat and light.
“Stay out of the way!” Fiera hissed.
The superhero ran past me. Sparks landed on my jacket and roared to life. With one hand, I ripped off the smoldering cloth and stomped on it. My inner voice cried out. Something came up fast behind me. I hit the ground. A metal trash can sailed over my head and off into the darkness.
I scrambled to my feet. Malefica stared at me. The ubervillain’s eyes glowed neon green with hate and rage. Another trash can came at me. I ducked back behind the bench. The can hit it and rattled off.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a green-and-white figure. Malefica saw him too. She picked up another bench with her mind and tossed it at Mr. Sage. One of the discarded trash cans zoomed through the air to meet it. The bench and the can seesawed back and forth, creaking and cracking and groaning. Another wall of fire roared up between Malefica and Mr. Sage.
“Let’s go!” Malefica screamed. “Now!”
Frost hit another button on his gun and pulled the trigger. A shrieking sound ripped through the air, just like it had at the vacuum cleaner plant. I clapped my hands over my ears, but it wasn’t enough to block out the excruciating wail. My brain felt like it was on fire. Mr. Sage, Striker, and Fiera clutched their heads in agony, but the noise didn’t affect the Triad. They scampered away, vanishing into the dark woods on the far side of the park.
After a few seconds, the sound faded away. The fires snuffed out. I stood. The superheroes clustered together, checking to make sure no one was seriously injured. They turned toward me.
“Thank you—”
My vision fuzzed over. I shook my head. The world spun around, and a searing pain roared to life in the back of my skull.
“Carmen? Carmen!”
Striker’s voice sounded long and slow, like he was underwater. I staggered. I squinted as hard as I could, but I couldn’t focus. What the hell had Frost injected me with? My throat closed up. I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t breathe. My foot snagged on something, and I tumbled to the ground. I tried to hold on to the bomb trigger so I wouldn’t blow us all to bits, but my fingers felt numb, lifeless. The metal device slid from my grasp.
The light on top of the trigger flashed once.
An enormous roar ripped through the air.
Heat washed over me.
Then, everything went black.
PART TWO
SUPERHERO CENTRAL
> Chapter Thirteen
The machine was the first thing I was aware of. It beeped and buzzed, making it impossible for me to sleep. I frowned. I didn’t have any sort of machine in my bedroom, other than my old clock radio. Had it suddenly gone haywire?
My eyes fluttered open. A blurry haze covered my vision. Slowly, a tile ceiling came into focus. The harsh fluorescent lights made me squint. I frowned again. My bedroom ceiling wasn’t tiled, and I didn’t have fluorescent lights. A muscle in my arm twitched. Pain shot up my shoulder.
The pain brought back memories of the battle between the Fearless Five and the Terrible Triad. Frost had shot me with some sort of dart before his gun had produced that horrid noise. I recalled lots of fire and trash cans flying through the air. Everything else was a bit foggy. Had the Fearless Five defeated the Terrible Triad? Or had it been the other way around? Had the bomb gone off? I couldn’t remember.
I sat up on my elbows and realized I was in a hospital bed. An IV dripped some sort of clear fluid into my arm. Another machine sounded out my heart rate and blood pressure every few seconds. Still more machines burped out information.
Several microscopes and other medical paraphernalia perched on a nearby table. Latex gloves peeked up out of a box. A large metal sink ran along one wall, and a long window with thick glass looked out onto an empty hallway. A set of hydraulic double doors sat at the far end, leading out to…where?
I wasn’t in a hospital or doctor’s office. Although the room had the antiseptic feel of an infirmary, it was too large to be your average hospital room, and the equipment seemed far too advanced. I couldn’t see anything beyond the doors, and I couldn’t hear anything except the whines and chirps of the various machines. No nurses, no doctors, no other whimpering patients. A ball of fear formed in my stomach.
Where the hell was I?
I threw back the bed sheets. A pair of white pajama pants, socks, and a loose T-shirt covered my body. Not your typical backless hospital gown. Who had put the clothes on me? And why? I looked like a rat ready to be dissected in a lab. Perhaps this was Frost’s lair, the place where he readied his test subjects before he experimented on them. My alarm grew.
I tumbled out of bed and started toward the door, but the wires from the various machines yanked me back. I ripped the IV out of my arm. Blood trickled out of the small wound. I tore off the heart monitor and other patches attached to my body, silencing the annoying machines. I staggered to the double doors.
“Hello? Hello!” I beat my hand on the door. “Can anyone hear me?”
No one answered.
I looked for a button or switch or trigger for the door, but the only things that greeted me were the smooth, blank walls. I cupped my hands together and peered out the long, narrow windows. A hallway branched off in both directions, and I spotted a ten-digit keypad outside. A red light blinked on the device, indicating the door was armed or locked or whatever. Somebody didn’t want me to leave this room.
I was a prisoner.
Well, not for long.
I scoured the room, opened the metal cabinets, and looked for anything useful, anything that could help me escape, anything I could use as a weapon. I didn’t know who exactly was waiting outside the doors or what they might have in store for me, but I wanted to be prepared no matter what.
The cabinets contained medical supplies—gloves, syringes, bandages. I also discovered a box full of packets of brown pills with the initials RID on them. I squinted at the tiny print. Radioactive Isotope Diminisher. Interesting, but not helpful. I threw the pills back in the box and kept searching, but the cabinets held no other secrets.
I turned my attention to the odd machines in the room. Most of them were squat, square, metal contraptions with all sorts of knobs and controls and wires. I had no idea what they did, and after I determined that they were of no use to me, I didn’t care.
I searched the rest of the room but found nothing that would help me escape. I plopped back on the bed. Frustrated, I kicked the IV stand with my foot.
Not smart.
My toes hit the unyielding metal with a loud crack. A strangled cry of pain escaped my lips. I leapt up off the bed and hopped around on one foot.
Once the throbbing subsided, I hobbled over to the IV stand, a tall metal pole with four legs. I took the bag of fluid off the hook at the top and unplugged the various wires that anchored the stand to the bed. I lifted it and hefted it in my arms. It would make an excellent battering ram. I took a long, hard look at the locked double doors, held the stand out like a lance, and ran toward the doors as fast as my socked feet would let me.
The stand skidded off the door.
I bounced back. My feet slipped sideways. I barely caught myself before I busted my ass on the hard, slick floor. Once I regained my balance, I picked up the stand and tried again.
And again…
And again…
And again…
After ten minutes, all I had succeeded in doing was putting a few scratches on the metal doors. I wasn’t going to get out that way.
I turned my attention to the window and chewed my lip. I’d avoided the window until now for a number of reasons. First of all, I didn’t want to get a faceful of glass trying to get out, not to mention the noise it would make when I shattered it. Still, it was my only way out. I didn’t want to be in the room when my captors came back for me, whoever they might be.
I yanked the sheets off the bed, ripped one into long, thin strips, and wrapped them around my hands. I wound more strips around my head and face until I looked like a mummy come to life. I took hold of the stand and went over to the window. I closed my eyes a moment, gathering my thoughts. Then, I picked up the IV stand, raised it high, and turned my head away from the window. I shoved the metal stand through the glass with all my might.
It didn’t shatter.
I frowned and rammed the stand through the window again.
It still didn’t shatter.
I tapped on the window. It was made of some sort of thick substance more like plastic than glass. I peered at the surface. Tiny cracks ran out from the spot where I’d hit it.
Well, it was a start.
I stabbed the window with the stand over and over and over again. Ten minutes later, small cracks and fissures dotted the surface like the delicate threads of a spider’s web. I wiped the sweat off my face. Escaping was hard work. I studied the lines and cracks. A couple more good, strategically placed whacks should do it.
I picked up the metal pole again. On the fifth whack, the stand punched through the window. It exploded outward. It sounded louder than a sonic boom in the enclosed space. The flying glass shredded my makeshift gloves. A few pieces stung my arms like small, angry bees.
An alarm blared to life.
Uh-oh.
I threw down the stand, stepped over the broken glass, climbed out the window, and started running.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I slumped against the wall, gasping and panting for breath. I felt like I’d been running for hours and hours. My lungs ached and burned with the effort, and a throbbing stitch pulsed in my side. I pushed away from the wall. I didn’t have time for such weakness. I had to escape.
Somehow.
It was proving to be more difficult than I’d imagined. The first hallway I’d run down had branched off into another hallway. That hallway had branched out into another hallway. The place was huge. It reminded me of some medieval castle, complete with a labyrinth in the dungeon that poor prisoners like me never escaped from. And the blaring alarm was giving me a killer headache.
I walked as fast as I could. No more running blind. I had to think, get some direction. I came to another branch in the hallway. I went left and kept going left at every new intersection.
Finally, I reached a large set of doors, yanked one open, and slipped into a massive kitchen. I squinted in the semidarkness. Pots and pans and big spatulas hung from metal racks. Gleaming knives and other cutlery sat in thick, wooden
blocks. Rows of refrigerators and freezers flanked the walls. Another dead end.
A door clicked open at the other end of the room. I grabbed a frying pan from an overhead rack and ducked behind one of the refrigerators, which was roughly the size of a humpback whale. Soft footsteps whispered. A black shadow pooled on the floor, growing larger and larger. I tensed, ready to strike. My heart hammered against my ribs. Blood roared in my buzzing ears. My breaths came in shallow gasps.
A figure strolled into view. I leapt out and swung the frying pan at its head. Too slow. The figure turned and grabbed my wrist, bending it downward. I dropped the pan, and it skittered off into the darkness. I lashed out with my free fist. The figure caught that hand too. A body pinned me against the refrigerator and pressed into mine. Visions of the almost-rape flooded my mind. I shrieked and struggled, trying to get away from my assailant.
“Carmen! Carmen! Calm down! It’s me.”
Striker’s deep voice cut through my panic. I quit fighting. My senses flared to life, and I realized what a cozy position we were in. His leg rested between mine, spreading them apart. I could feel the sleek leather fabric of his suit through my thin pajama bottoms. He shifted his stance, and a heavy dampness gathered between my thighs at the intimate contact. Striker’s gloved hands held my wrists against the refrigerator. His arms brushed the sides of my breasts, which swelled in response. My nipples hardened, and I panted for breath once more.
Electric-blue flecks sparked to life deep in Striker’s silver eyes. For a moment, I thought he might lean forward and kiss me, capture my lips with his. I wanted him to. Oh, how I wanted him to. I burned for him to do that and much, much more.
Striker hissed. He let out a long breath, pulled back, and dropped his arms. I bit my lip.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “Why did you break out of the infirmary?”
“I didn’t know where I was or who had me. I figured I didn’t want to stick around to find out.”
“Don’t you remember what happened at the park? That we defeated the Triad?”
The Bigtime Series (Bigtime superhero series, e-bundle) Page 14
