“Excuse me, young man, but where do you think you’re going?” a woman’s voice said. Kid turned around, startled, and stared at the woman.
“Huh?” was all Kid could muster from beneath his mask after a few moments. The lady started to walk toward him, obviously upset.
“That floor is restricted. You’re not allowed up there!” she said, grabbing Kid’s arm and pulling him down the stairs.
“But…”
“No “buts!” You have duties downstairs to attend to. Now let’s go!” she barked.
“But…”
“Sounds like we have a problem,” Gears said back at The Playground over the com. He typed away on his computer some more. “Sam, Scott’s heading your way. But, looks like you’re on your own. Good luck.”
Within seconds of Gear’s voice leaving her earpiece, Samantha saw Alfred E. Scott walk into the room. He walked in very slowly, with much dignity, and saw the two boys sitting around his desk. Ace still had his feet up, while Tommy now sat on the edge of the large, marble desk.
“What do you think you are doing?” Scott said to the boys at their lack of respect. “Get out of my chair.”
“We’re here to get paid, Alfy,” Ace said harshly.
“Yeah, where’s our money?” Tommy followed.
“Boys, boys, don’t worry about it. I have it,” Alfred said as he reached the desk. He motioned with his hand for the boys to get up off his private desk—which they did. He took a seat at his desk and unlocked the top drawer. He then produced a metal box, which he opened with a key. Inside sat a wad of cash. The two boys looked at each other, and their eyes grew as big as beach balls with excitement. Scott counted some bills and handed them to the two boys.
“Here you go. And here you go,” he said as he closed the metal tin. “It was worth every cent to see that store demolished. You boys did an excellent job smashing up Spring Road Toys. You should be very proud.”
“Not as proud as all this cash, Scott,” Ace said.
“Now, not a word of this to anyone, you hear? Not one word!” Scott said angrily at the two boys.
“Don’t worry, we have no intention of telling everyone we busted up a toy store for a crazy old man. What would that buy us besides trouble?” Ace said.
“Good,” Scott said, sitting back in his chair, a little more content. “Let’s keep it that way. But if one day you do decide to feel the need, just remember—I will deny ever knowing you and certainly deny ever paying you to get rid of that awful toy store next door. And everyone will believe me over a couple of kids.”
There was a pause in the room as Ace stared the curator down. Samantha stood quietly twenty-five feet or so away. She had gotten the evidence she needed. A voice came over her earpiece.
“Sam, this is great stuff. We are having a picture issue. Can you adjust the camera?” Roller said. Samantha reached up with her right hand and fiddled with the camera a little bit. “That’s better. Now move a little to your left.”
Samantha obliged and moved a small fraction to her left, but with Samantha’s luck, it was a fraction too much. A large bang ensued as soon as she put her foot down on the side of an object, which sent it spinning into another object.
“What was that?” yelled Scott, looking in the direction of the closet.
“Ugh. Not again!” Samantha said to herself, and she stumbled. The doors of the closet flung open as Samantha busted out.
“Hey! Who are you?” Scott asked. Samantha tumbled out of the door and fell to the floor, her mask still hiding her identity. Immediately, she sprang back up and stood there for only a second.
“I’m the one not having any luck here. Now, if you would excuse me …” Samantha said as she turned and ran out the door.
“Follow her!” yelled the curator, pointing at Samantha, but to the curator’s dismay, the two boys just stood there.
“Sorry, dude, we don’t work for you anymore,” Ace said as he flapped his wad of cash in the curator’s face.
“I’ll double it if you catch her! Now go!” Scott yelled.
With newfound motivation, the two boys ran at full steam after the little girl. Behind them, the curator tried to keep up. The three had a lot of ground to gain but were doing a good job. Samantha was bogged down by her costume, along with the fact that once again she was outsized in her chase.
Samantha made it to the third-floor staircase, sat on the banister without hesitation, and rode it down the flight of stairs. Making a rather smooth dismount, she leaped off the railing and landed squarely on her feet. Upstairs, the boys and the curator made a dash down the flight of stairs, not risking such a stunt.
“I’m in trouble boys. Where is everybody?” Samantha said as she huffed and puffed her way down the second-floor hallway. The staircase leading down was at least a hundred yards in front of her. As she flew down the hallway, onlookers made startled comments and gawked at the spectacle in front of them.
“You have to get to the first floor, Sam. KC’s trapped there, and the twins have been outed. Make it there. We are working on the transmission, but it will take a few more minutes.”
“Great,” Samantha said as she chugged along. Her legs were getting tired, and she started to slow. Behind her, the older boys were gaining ground by the second.
Back at The Playground, Gears and Roller typed away in silence. Their little hands made mad dashes across the keys.
“Come on. Come on!” Gears exclaimed. He looked up at his monitors.
“Almost there,” Roller said back. He too was typing faster than ever. More images and screenshots appeared on their monitors. It was going to be close.
Sam made it to the second-floor staircase, but this time she would have to run down them as there was no banister to ride. The boys were steps behind her. As she raced down the stairs, the boys attempted to reach out and grab her. As she hit the last stair that led back into the main dining room, the boys leaped from the staircase and tackled the young girl, bringing her to the ground.
“We gotcha this time!” Ace said to her as they wrestled on the ground for a few seconds. Samantha was tough and scrappy for a girl her age, but she was no match for two older, stronger boys. She kicked back and forth a few more times before admitting defeat. The boys brought her to her feet and each one held onto one of Sam’s arms.
Everyone at the party stopped what they were doing and stared at the young girl and two boys. Whispers of curiosity grew through the crowd as people searched for answers to what they were witnessing.
At the top of the staircase stood Alfred E. Scott. He calmly walked down the stairs, raising his arms out to each side.
“Ladies. Gentlemen. No need for alarm. It seems that one of my staff members took it upon herself to steal some merchandise from the top floors of the museum. These two boys work for me and have apprehended the criminal. The authorities will be here shortly. Go back to having fun.”
“Gears,” Samantha said in a low murmur.
“Just a few more seconds,” was the response in her ear.
Alfred E. Scott made it to the bottom of the stairs and walked up to Samantha, who was still trying to fight her way loose from the two boys. With a smug smile on his face, Scott walked up to her. She stood there, blew the hair out of her face, and stared the old man in the eye.
“You’re the girl from the other night, aren’t you?” Scott concluded. He smiled and stood right in Samantha’s face. “I don’t know who you are or what you think you were going to accomplish up there, but you have lost, little girl,” Scott said in a stern voice. Samantha just stood there, sweating ever so lightly beneath her mask.
Just then, the music that was playing stopped and the dozen video monitors around the museum went black. Again, whispers were heard throughout the crowd as they gazed up at the blank screens. A flicker later, an image appeared.
“We’re here to get paid, Alfy,” was the first voice they heard.
“Yeah, where’s our money?” was the second. Ace and Tommy looke
d at each other. They knew they were about to be in trouble.
“Boys, boys, don’t worry about it. I have it.” The video was a little blurry, but there was no mistaking that the image was Alfred E. Scott.
“You were saying?” Samantha said to Scott as his eyes went from the monitors back to her. She wished she had her camera to capture the look on Scott’s face that went from exhilaration to horror in a matter of seconds.
“Here you go. And here you go,” the tape continued to play. “It was worth every cent to see that store demolished. You boys did an excellent job smashing up Spring Road Toys. You should be very proud.”
The whispers got louder. Alfred E. Scott got scared and began to look around. A crowd gathered around him and started to close in. There was nowhere to run. The video revealed the events that had transpired moments ago, two floors up.
“… I will deny ever knowing you and certainly deny ever paying you to get rid of that awful toy store next door. And everyone will believe me over a couple of kids.”
The crowd was in an uproar. The mob started closing in more. The video screens went dark.
“You did that?” a voice said from the crowd. “You did that to Spring Road Toys?”
Scott looked around. Sweat started to form on his forehead. “But … but it wasn’t me! It was these two boys,” Scott said and spun around. No one was there. The boys were gone. Only Samantha remained. She stood there with her usual sly smile on her face and her hands on her hips.
Scott turned back around to the mob. They threw more voices and questions at him, and he had nothing to say. As the crowd was focused on Scott, a hand grabbed Samantha’s arm from behind. Defensively, she snapped around, ready to pounce. Kid Combat stood behind her.
“Time to go.”
Epilogue
The next morning, the papers and media outlets started covering “The Heist of Spring Road Toys.” At least, that’s what they were calling it. Reporters by the dozen camped outside of the museum with their crews, vans, and heavy equipment. The Science Museum, for the next few days at least, was the center point of town and all anyone was talking about.
Alfred E. Scott, the former curator of the museum, was arrested at noon on the steps of his beloved museum. The flashes from the cameras made a strobe-like effect as the curator was led down the stairs. He sobbed and cursed the entire way as he was led into the backseat of the police car. With one final push back, he emerged one last time to issue his final decree.
“I will get that little girl! If it’s the last thing I ever do!” he screamed out into the masses.
Upon hearing that from across the room, Kyle Christensen turned off the TV situated in a cleaned, but still disheveled Spring Road Toys. Most of the trash and broken toys were gone, but the shelves remained bare. He stood there at the counter with Samantha and the Thompsons.
“What an awful man,” Mrs. Thompson stated. She stood there with her arms folded and shook her head from side to side. “That poor girl better watch out for herself.”
Kyle, standing next to Samantha, glanced over at her. “Oh, I’m sure she can take care of herself,” he said to her, with a small grin on his face. Samantha smiled back at him shyly, and then looked down at the floor.
“Yes. Well, he’s still horrible,” Mrs. Thompson concluded. She picked up a pile of papers from the counter and disappeared into the back room. Mr. Thompson, almost waiting for his loving wife to leave, walked up closer to Kyle and Samantha.
“Are you two going to be all right?” Samantha asked.
“Oh, yes, we’ll be fine,” Mr. Thompson said and patted Samantha on the shoulder. “The town has really started to get behind us. They are setting up a charity fundraiser for us to help us replace the toys and repair the store. Plus, I have some money put away. We should be back up and going in no time,” he finished with a wink.
“That’s good to hear,” Kyle said. He was about to start another sentence when Mrs. Thompson returned from the back room. Kyle hesitated and swallowed his words.
“We better get going,” Samantha said as she turned to Kyle. He looked back in a bit of puzzlement. Samantha noticed, but Mrs. Thompson was the next to speak.
“Go?” she said. “Do you really have to leave us? You kids are so nice to talk to.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Samantha said, turning to Mrs. Thompson. She then turned back to Kyle. “We told some friends we would meet them. At The Playground,” she said with an obvious emphasis on the last two words. It wasn’t lost on Kyle.
“Oh, yes! The Playground. We are running late for that,” Kyle said, snapping out of it.
“Well if you must, then you must,” Mrs. Thompson said very understandingly. “I just wish there was some way to repay you for all your hard work.”
“It’s on the house,” Kyle said as he tapped the counter. He and Samantha then turned and started out the door.
“Kyle?” Mrs. Thompson said as the two were almost out the door. Kyle and Samantha stopped and turned back around. “Thank you,” she finished, tears forming in her eyes.
“Yeah. Thank you,” Mr. Thompson said. “To both of you.”
“Don’t thank us,” Kyle said. He then pointed at the TV. “Thank that girl from the museum. She did all the work.”
**********
Far away from Elmcrest, the mood was less cheery. The mysterious boy in blue stood in a long hallway. Made of mahogany wood, the walls were dark and unadorned. Pillars, crafted from the same dark wood, rose from the floor to the ceiling like thick tree trunks.
Off to the boy’s left was a long hallway with several windows. To his right was a single door.
Waiting for an invitation to enter the room, he stood about ten feet away from the door, admiring the one lone picture on the wall. It was an old picture, black-and-white, of a young man wearing a suit and holding a key. The boy couldn’t make out the man in the picture, but he continued to study it.
After several minutes, the single door opened with a haunting creak, and a man exited the room. It was an anonymous member of the house staff. As the door opened, the boy in blue looked at the lapel of the man opening the door. On it was a pin with just the letters JI going diagonally down from left to right. They were the same initials, in the same pattern, on the man in the picture.
“He will see you now,” said the man as he stood attention by the door and waited. The boy in blue, whose face was mostly hidden by his hood and dark glasses, simply nodded and walked toward the door. As the boy walked by, the man bowed slightly and closed the door behind him. The man, alone, exited down the hallway.
The room was full of windows that normally provided plenty of natural light. The entire back wall was made of glass, and if it wasn’t for the overcast day, the room would have been filled with sunlight. But with the storm clouds rolling in, there was little chance of that.
The boy walked toward the far side of the poorly lit room. It was hard for the small boy to make out much. He did notice the walls were painted gray, and there was a lot of silver furniture. Silver chairs, tables, and other pieces littered the room. At the back was a silver desk. On it sat the only light in the room.
A crack of lightning illuminated the window as the boy in blue reached the edge of the desk. He then heard a voice from the speakerphone box attached to a telephone that sat on the desk in front of him. His eyes glanced the oversized chair that faced the opposite way, out toward the windows.
“He was arrested a few minutes ago, sir,” a voice said over the speaker.
“Hold a second,” a voice from the chair said in a deep, raspy voice. “I have a visitor.”
The chair spun around, and to no surprise to the boy in blue, the man that sat in the chair was none other than Phillip Arthur Jones. The famed man who had built a lavish empire in Elmcrest sat across the desk from the small boy. Jones moved over, hit the mute button on the phone, and turned his attention to the lad.
“He failed me,” Jones said, his face distorted with anger. “That incompete
nt fool Scott failed me!” he finished.
“I told you he would. There was no way Scott would be smart enough to pull off your plan. I told you he was of no use to you,” the boy in blue said.
“You better not have had the same fate,” Jones said to the overconfident boy.
“I didn’t,” the boy in blue said.
“You found something?” Jones snarled.
“Yes, sir,” said the boy in blue. He handed the envelope over to Jones. Jones snatched at it and shot a look back up to the boy.
“This better be good,” Jones continued as he opened the envelope and pulled the contents of the package out.
A collection of photographs spilled onto Jones’s desk. He sifted through the portraits one by one. There were several shots of various kids of Elmcrest doing various things. Jones had hired the boy in blue to spy on the other kids of the town and find out anything that was weird or out of the ordinary. He was searching for anything that would lead him to the identity of Kid Combat. Jones was still very much obsessed with finding his greatest ill. That would never change.
Jones flipped by most of the pictures with no interest. Picture after picture hit the floor as Jones discarded them in disgust. Finally, Jones came to the pictures of Roller and the rows of trees in Maple Forest that concealed the secret entrance to The Playground. He studied the pictures of Roller heading right for the trees and then disappearing into them. Jones brought his hand up to his face and went into deep thought for several seconds.
“Thank you for these,” Jones finally said. “You’ve done your job well. You are dismissed.”
“When do I get paid?” asked the boy. He was not intimidated by Jones one bit. Jones let out a minor laugh.
“Your money will be waiting for you at the front door. Now, away with you. I have business to attend to,” Jones replied. The boy in blue didn’t say another word but turned around and exited out of the room. His services to Jones were done for now, but this would not be the last time he would see the boy in blue.
The Adventures of Kid Combat Volume Two: The Heist of Spring Road Toys Page 9
