The Rise and Fall of El Solo Libre

by Peter Nelson

  He excitedly bounced over to a rock wall. In a carved-out compartment was a sleek black console and a row of black goggle-like sunglasses.

  A chunk of hot dog fell out of Alex’s gaping mouth. “Whoa. My bedroom never had that.”

  Old Man Alex tossed him a pair of black goggles, which conked him on the head. The old man picked them up for his guest and put on a pair himself.

  As soon as Alex slipped on his black goggles, the cave disappeared. Or rather, it transformed. Alex was completely engulfed in a perfectly realistic three-dimensional holographic battlefield. The sky was fiery red, with volcanoes in the distance. There were rivers of lava running through deep cracks in the black rock beneath his feet. Off in the distance was a jungle-like oasis. Beyond it, he could see a vast, dark ocean.

  It all looked so real that Alex had to lift the glasses to make sure he was still actually standing in a messy little cave. He looked over at Old Man Alex, standing in the middle of the cave, wearing the goggles. Alex slipped his back on and slipped back into this incredible world.

  “You ready?”

  The voice belonged to Old Man Alex, but in this virtual world, he stood eight feet tall in full robotic body armor.

  His battle suit was metallic blue and silver, fully loaded with built-in rocket launchers, blasters, and various other weaponry Alex couldn’t wait to see in action.

  “You look awesome!” Alex said.

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  KA-CHUNGK! Old Man Alex’s heavy silver boot took a thundering step forward. He spread his massive, silver chest plate so that Alex could see his reflection in it. His suit of armor looked like a mega-robot version of his El Solo Libre costume: his chest plate was his N.E.D. suit—silver with a tighty-whitey metallic band below his waist. He had a shimmering gold cape flowing down his back, which fluttered around his heavy plated boots.

  Alex looked from his metallic exoskeleton to the incredible world around him. “What is all this?!”

  “This—is the greatest video game in the history of video games! AlienSlayer43: Virtual Vengeance! You can modify your avatar however you want—I just had it scan and modify what you were already wearing. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Okay?! It’s awesome! Let’s do this!”

  Old Man Alex grinned, then touched a button on his silver neck plate. WZZZZT! Metallic blue and silver sections unfolded from his collar and assembled themselves around his head into a battle helmet. Alex smiled—it had the same blue and silver pattern as the Mexican wrestling mask his Uncle Davey brought him back from Guadalupe.

  Old Man Alex’s voice echoed inside his helmet. “Okay. Prepare yourself for Level One.” He crouched into a ninja fighting position. A dozen or so weapons snapped and clicked all over his body—locked, loaded, and ready to fire at his command.

  WZZZZZT! Alex did the same. His Mexican wrestling helmet clicked together, sealing itself around his head. He crouched into a ready position beside his older self. The two virtual warriors looked out at the vast horizon, where an army of dragonlike alien invaders came soaring over the volcanoes, speeding directly toward them in a menacing attack formation.

  “Oh, man…” Alex giggled inside his helmet as he prepared for battle. “I’m so glad I found myself!”

  Herbert and Sammi raced along Main Street armed with stacks of flyers showing a picture of GOR-DON. Printed beneath his grimacing face were the words, HAVE YOU SEEN ME? Since GOR-DON was someone most people in town did their best to avoid, the answer they kept getting was “no.”

  “Where is that nasty little blob?” Sammi said. “We’re running out of time.”

  “Even SarcasmaTron couldn’t get a lead on him,” Herbert added. “He must be pretty well hidden. If he’s even here.”

  Herbert and Sammi shared a worried look. Then they glanced up at the sky, nervously scanning it for signs of an impending attack. They quickly returned to handing out their useless flyers.

  A crowd of AlienSlayer fans had begun following them through town. While none of them had seen GOR-DON, they had lots of wild theories on where they might find the crackpot G’Dalien.

  “I got a whiff of him once,” one man yelled out. “A mighty nasty stench, I can tell ya. My guess? He lives in the sewer!”

  “No, no. He sleeps in the park—my dog peed on him once!” a G’Dalien mom yelled.

  As they were steadily getting mobbed by more and more Merwinsvillians, Herbert grew more and more anxious.

  “I hope Alex is okay, wherever he is,” he muttered. He noticed Sammi giving him a surprised look and quickly added, “Only because he’s wearing one of my N.E.D. suits. They don’t just sell those things at the Merwinsville Mall, y’know.”

  “It’s okay,” Sammi said. “When we find Alex, I won’t tell him you were worried. And we will find him.”

  Herbert gave her a smirk but said nothing.

  A voice suddenly came blasting from the back of the crowd. “Outta my way! President of the M.A.S.F.C.—comin’ through!”

  Herbert and Sammi looked over to see a large woman plowing through the crowd. She wore a hairnet and an I ALIENSLAYERS! T-shirt, and had a large bag slung over her shoulder. She reached Herbert and Sammi, stuck out her beefy paw, and introduced herself.

  “What an honor to meet you guys! Marion Ploof, newest president of the Merwinsville AlienSlayer Fan Club. Such an honor. Really.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Sammi said, shaking her hand.

  “Okay, so what do you need? Crowd control? I can have this place cleared in ten seconds. Transportation? Warm towlette? Water? Mr. Slewg, I’ve memorized your bio. I know you prefer sparkling.”

  As she began riffling through her bag, Sammi stopped her.

  “That’s okay, Marion. We’re just looking for someone.”

  “A G’Dalien of interest,” Herbert added officially.

  Marion’s eyes grew wide.

  “You’re on a real AlienSlaying case? Can I help? Oh, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—let me help!”

  Sammi handed Marion a flyer and pointed to GOR-DON. “The only way you could possibly help is if you knew where this character is.”

  Marion looked at GOR-DON’s picture and burst out chuckling.

  “Gordy?” she said.

  “You know him?” Herbert asked.

  “Know him? We used to date!” She began riffling through her bag again. “He gave me his card. I’ve got it here somewhere.”

  Herbert stared at her. “Really? That’s great!”

  Sammi stared too. “Really? You dated him?”

  Although Sammi and Herbert had walked through the Merwinsville Museum of Human History hundreds of times before, they’d never been there after hours. Closed for the night, its dimly lit, empty hallways were surprisingly spooky, even to them. When they stepped off the employee elevator into the dark and gloomy bowels of the building’s basement, it was like stepping into another world. A very scary, slightly smelly other world.

  They tiptoed around the huge Trash Disintegration Unit in the center of the room and found the door marked KEEP OUT! TOXIC CONTAMINANT CLOSET! Sammi checked the card Marion had given them. This was the place.

  “Home Sweet Home,” she said.

  “You go in,” Herbert said. “I’ll keep watch out here.”

  “Uh, no,” Sammi said. “You want to enjoy the benefits of being an AlienSlayer, you gotta earn them. We go in together.”

  She turned the knob. The door opened with a creeaak.

  They stepped into the greenish-glowing, shadowy room and took in GOR-DON’s tiny, nasty, messy lair.

  “I didn’t know Andretti’s delivered,” Herbert whispered, noticing the stacked pizza boxes.

  “Shh!” Sammi peered into the dark room and stepped toward the green glow on the wall above the desk. They stopped and stared up at the holo-clipping display of AlienSlayer pictures, articles, and videos completely covering the wall.

  “Wow,” Sammi said. “Obsess much?”

  Click!

 
Herbert squealed as the door locked behind them. They spun around to see a large, blobby shadow approach.

  It entered the green glow of the projections.

  “Well, if it isn’t the famous AlienSlayers,” GOR-DON spat through a wide grin. “I’ve been hoping you’d drop by.”

  The two titanium-armored SuperSlayers stood bravely on the beach of the small volcanic island and stared straight into the fiery-red eyes of the very last Three-Headed Aidanewellian Sea Beast. The gigantic, serpentine water alien burst out of the crashing waves and flew straight for them. Together they raised their shining silver arms. Missile launchers clicked up from their armor and locked in.

  KA-BLATZ!!! ROOOAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHH!!!

  The ferocious Three-Headed Aidanewellian Sea Beast let out a horrible wail as the Thermo-Blast Charges hit it in the chest and belly. It violently twisted and spun in the air, then crashed into the surf like a giant, scaly Viking ship. The monster plowed a fifty-foot trench in the volcanic beach, stopping dead just short of the two warriors’ shiny silver boots.

  One of the SuperSlayers turned to the other.

  “Hungry?”

  “Always. You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

  The two of them high-fived their heavy metal hands with a CLANG! and shouted in unison: “SuperCheezyFrankOnnaStick break!”

  They pressed a button on their wrist control pads. The entire world they were standing in—the island, the dark sea, the dead Three-Headed Aidanewellian Sea Beast, everything—dissolved into a bright white void. Huge glowing words replaced the fiery sky in front of them: “EXIT GAME? YES OR NO.”

  The metal slayers fired quick WristBlasts at the word YES.

  Alex and his older self took off their black goggles. Alex grinned as he flopped onto the moon rock bed.

  “Wow! That was totally awesome!”

  Ding! Old Man Alex handed his younger self a dog-on-a-stick. “Here ya go, partner. Extra double-goopy SuperCheeze, just the way you like it.”

  Alex chowed down the meaty treat in one bite and tossed the stick onto a pile of a few hundred in the corner.

  “This is the best,” he said, using his sleeve to wipe orange cheese from his mouth. “I totally get why you never leave here.”

  Ding! Old Man Alex smiled as he pulled out his own SuperCheezyFrankOnnaStick. “You mean why we never leave here.”

  Alex looked at him, then shrugged it off. “Hey, so is all that ‘Fraidy-Cat Filby’ stuff true? Is that why you went into hiding on the dark side of the moon?”

  Old Man Alex scratched his head with a dogless stick. “That name kinda rings a bell, but I don’t really remember. Hey, ready for another?”

  Alex’s mind began to race. Something wasn’t right. He now remembered how much he loved video games, but it felt like that memory was blocking out another memory. A really important one.

  “Hold up. So you don’t remember coming here to get away from something?”

  “Dude, I’m so old, I don’t remember coming here.”

  The two Alexes stared blankly at each other for a moment. Then the older one burst into a big, goofy grin. “Who cares? Let’s get back in the game!”

  The game. “Hey,” Alex said. “Where’d you get that AS43: Virtual Vengeance, anyway?”

  “What difference does it make? I don’t remember, okay? But if you wanna be Mr. Nosey, there’s a note that came with it around here somewhere…”

  He started rummaging through his stone desk drawer, throwing random objects around the room. Finally he pulled out a faded old piece of paper and handed it to Alex:

  Alex looked up at his 110-year-old self, who was holding out a pair of Virtua-Goggles to Alex, ready to go back in.

  “C’mon! You heard the note. I’m supposed to be training till somebody comes. And it’s totally working!”

  Alex was in a confused daze. “What? What’s working?”

  “Our alien-slaying training! You saw us! We must’ve slayed half a dozen different aliens, each more powerful than the last! And it only took us seven hours! We kick butt! Up high!”

  Alex stared at his older self holding his hand in the air. The weird feeling was growing stronger. Something was very wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. All he wanted to do was play AlienSlayer43: Virtual Vengeance again. He tried to shake that urge away. He had to concentrate.

  “Hold on. So—what are you training for, exactly?”

  “Man, your memory’s getting as bad as mine, and you just got here! The note said I’m waiting for somebody to take me back to Earth and save everyone from the aliens, or something like that.”

  “Yes! That’s it!”

  Alex jumped up. His eyes popped wide open. His ears were ringing. He felt like he’d been hit over the head with a moon rock.

  “Don’t you see? I’m the somebody!”

  “You’re who, now?”

  “The person sent to get you! That’s why I came here! Merwinsville is about to be—oh my gosh, what am I doing?! MERWINSVILLE IS ABOUT TO BE ATTACKED BY KLAPTHORIANS! I came here to bring you back to help me! It’s up to us to save everyone! How could I have forgotten?!”

  Alex walked in circles, his mind racing faster and faster. It was all flooding back into his brain now, and he felt like he was waking up from a long and heavy sleep.

  The older Alex munched on the SuperCheezyFrankOnnaStick.

  “Dude, you need to chillax.”

  Alex stopped pacing and looked around the room.

  “It’s that game.” He grabbed the note and approached the slick, black box on the rock shelf. He studied it like it was a dangerous weapon, then looked at the bottom of the note again. “‘Your old friend and neighbor, H.S.’ Herbert Slewg. But Old Man Herbert told me he didn’t really know you. Why would he lie?”

  “Herbert Slewg?—that name rings a bell.”

  “How did this game get here?”

  “I don’t remember. It just came, I guess.”

  “It just came?! It’s not like the mailman delivers to the dark side of the moon!”

  “It was a long time ago! I just remember playing. That’s…”

  Old Man Alex’s voice trailed off. He looked up at Alex with a puzzled look on his face. “That’s all I remember anymore.”

  They stared at each other. Suddenly, the two virtual alien SuperSlayers felt more like a couple of doofus-heads sitting in a tiny cave on the dark side of the moon.*

  Alex took his Virtua-Goggles from Old Man Alex and dropped them on the cold stone floor. “Y’know what I think? I think you’ve trained enough. Look at you!” Alex continued. “Your whole life has slipped by while you were slave to a stupid video game!”

  CRUNCH! He smashed the goggles with his foot.

  Old Man Alex looked at him. “What do I do?”

  “That’s easy,” Alex said. “You just climb outta this hole in the wall, march into the light, and go home.”

  “I am home. This is my home. It’s where I eat, sleep, and slay aliens!”

  “You don’t slay aliens!” Alex said. “Not real ones! Trust me, I’ve battled real aliens and—” he stopped himself. “Well, up until recently I thought I’d battled real aliens, but it turns out it was just a video game.”

  “Kinda like me.”

  “Yeah. Kinda exactly like you.”

  “So you’ve never actually fought actual aliens, then?”

  “No, I guess I haven’t.”

  “And you’re willing to do it now, to save the world?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am. But only if you’ll help me.”

  Old Man Alex slowly set down his goggles. He picked up a bowling ball–size moon rock. He took a deep breath and lifted the moon rock over his head, then hurled the mini-boulder across the room.

  KRASHHH! The black AlienSlayers43: Virtual Vengeance console exploded, spraying sparks and black glass all over the cave.

  “One thing I learned getting to level ninety-three is you’ve gotta kill your enemy at the source. Or else they just keep
coming.”

  “Okay.” Alex grinned. “Good to know.”

  He pulled his blue and silver Mexican wrestling mask (the one his Uncle Davey brought him back from Guadalupe) out of his waistband. He slipped it on over his head. Old Man Alex’s face lit up at the sight of it.

  “Hey!” He rushed over and rummaged through his messy closet, throwing random objects around the room. He pulled out a torn and frayed blue and silver Mexican wrestling mask—the one his Uncle Davey had brought him back from Guadalupe.

  “I always wondered why I kept this smelly old thing.”

  Naturally, you’re too late.”

  GOR-DON sneered as he stepped toward Alex and Sammi, into the greenish glow of the computerized news projections on the wall.

  “Exactly what I’d expect when a real alien attack threatened a bunch of phony superheroes.”

  “WHERE’S ALEX?!” Sammi demanded.

  “A-HA! You didn’t correct me! That means I’m right! You are frauds, just like I’ve always said! YES! YES! YE—Wait. You don’t know where he is either?”

  “No. And FYI, we didn’t say you were right,” Herbert said.

  “You’re a slayer short?!” GOR-DON chuckled. “Oh, this has worked out even better than I planned!”

  “If you know where he is, you’d better tell us,” Sammi said. “And if he’s hurt, you are not going to have a ‘g’day.’”

  “I haven’t had a ‘g’day’ since you three parasites ruined my life! And as for your missing friend, I seem to recall him telling me he was going solo.” He turned to Herbert. “That was your suggestion, wasn’t it? That’s what your blabbermouth bodyguard told me, anyway.”

  “Chicago,” Sammi muttered.

  “Has it occurred to either of you that maybe ‘El Solo Libre’ doesn’t want you to find him? I mean, I’m a supergalactic mega-jerk, but even I wouldn’t treat my friends the way you treated him. If—y’know, I had any.”

  Sammi and Herbert were quiet for a moment.

  “All right,” Sammi said finally. “Maybe it’s too late to save our friendship with Alex. But it’s not too late to save the world. So you’re going to call off this attack—”