by Lucas Flint
“You should do what your uncle says,” said TW. “Perhaps you can find some place private to change into Trickshot so you can come back and help him.”
“But I’m afraid that if I leave Uncle Josh will get killed,” I said.
“It’s still the best shot you’ve got,” said TW. “It isn’t like you can help him in your current circumstances, after all.”
“You have a point,” I said.
While Josh and Mohammad continued talking to each other, I climbed over to the back seats as discreetly as I could. I pulled down the back seats, which went down just like Uncle Josh described, and crawled into the trunk, which was very dark and cramped, especially with the fishing poles lying on the floor. But I saw the tag I could pull to open the trunk from the inside, which glowed in the dark, but I didn’t reach for it just yet because I remembered the suitcase I found underneath the floor of the trunk earlier.
Peeling back the upturned corner again, I found the suitcase exactly where I left it, complete with the word ‘SELF-DEFENSE’ written on it in gold lettering. I glanced over my shoulder, but as far as I could tell, Josh and Mohammad were still talking to each other, not fighting or shooting yet.
“What are you doing?” said TW. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” I said under my breath, “but if it says ‘SELF-DEFENSE,’ I figure it must be a weapon of some kind, a weapon that might help Uncle Josh.”
“I wouldn’t use your uncle’s weapons without his permission like this,” said TW. “You have no idea what is in there. It could be dangerous.”
“It’s probably just a gun,” I said. “I can’t imagine what else Uncle might carrying around in a suitcase labeled ‘SELF-DEFENSE.’ Only one way to find out.”
I popped open the suitcase and was puzzled by what I found.
It wasn’t a gun, like I thought it would be. It wasn’t even a knife. It was some kind of metal glove, which was made out of black and gold metal, shining dully against the few sun rays that managed to filter in from outside. Beneath the glove was a label which read ‘ATLAS GLOVE. DANGEROUS. DO NOT USE.’
“Atlas Glove?” I repeated in a low voice. “Ever heard of it, TW?”
“Can’t say I have,” said TW. “But I would advise against using it, as per the label. It’s probably some kind of dangerous prototype weapon.”
“If it’s dangerous, that will just make it even more useful for helping Uncle,” I said. “I’m going to take it and see what it does. You never know, it might be useful.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Well, I’m not you, now am I?” I said. “Besides, if things go south, I can still use the Watch. It’s not like it’s the end of the world if I mess up.”
I pulled the Alas Glove out of its packaging and turned it over. It seemed to be about the right size for my hand, so I slipped it on, feeling the Glove’s inner padding that made it soft on my hand. I flexed the fingers of the Glove a few times, but I didn’t feel anything particularly strange about it. It felt just like a normal glove.
A second later, however, the Glove suddenly tightened around my arm. I gasped in surprise and tried to remove the Glove, but it wouldn’t come off.
“That doesn’t look good,” said TW in my head. “If you cannot remove it—”
“I’ll worry about that later,” I said. “For now, let’s see what this bad boy does.”
I pulled the tag of the trunk, causing it to pop open silently. I opened the trunk just wide enough for me to slip out and I crouched behind the vehicle, making sure to close the trunk on my way out. I moved to the left side of the convertible and peered around the corner to see if the situation had changed.
It had not. Uncle Josh still stood across from Mohammad, who was aiming his gun at him still. Only now there was another guy, who, unlike Mohammad, looked more white than anything and a good deal younger than his partner. I assumed he had to be the driver of the vehicle, because from what I could tell, Mohammad hadn’t been driving the car.
“I know how hard you guys have been looking for me, but you’re wasting your time,” said Uncle Josh. “I don’t have anything you want and killing me won’t get you anything.”
“The Superior thinks otherwise,” said Mohammad. He cocked his gun. “Now, give us the Glove or else we will kill you right where you stand.”
The Glove? I looked down at the glove on my hand. This must have been what they were talking about. I didn’t know why they wanted it, but it must have been important if they were willing to go on a car chase for it. Time to find out what it did.
I tapped a button on the Glove’s surface and immediately felt its temperature start to rise. Though my hand on the inside felt just fine, the exterior was getting hotter and hotter. It even began to glow at the tips, and somehow I sensed that these lights weren’t just for show.
“I don’t have it,” said Uncle Josh. “I sold the Atlas Glove to someone else a while ago. You’re out of luck, my Middle Eastern friend.”
“Your lies don’t impress us,” said Mohammad with a sneer. “We know that you would never sell such an important object for any amount of money. You’re an awful liar.”
Uncle Josh shrugged. “It was worth a shot. You almost believed me. I saw it in your eyes.”
“The only thing I am going to believe is your death,” said Mohammad.
This was my chance. If I didn’t move now, Mohammad would shoot Uncle Josh. Time to find out just what the Atlas Glove really did.
Standing up, I shouted, “Uncle Josh, get down!”
Luckily, Uncle Josh didn’t even wait. He just fell down to the ground, covering his head with both hands, while Mohammad and the driver looked at me in confusion.
“Who are you?” said Mohammad. His eyes widened when he saw me aiming the Atlas Glove at him. “The Atlas Glove! Put it down now or—”
I didn’t even let him finish his sentence. I just tapped a button on the Atlas Glove. Even I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
The Atlas Glove suddenly exploded with black energy that shot out from the tips of its fingers directly toward Mohammad and the driver. The two attackers tried to move out of the way, but though they managed to avoid the bulk of the blast, they were nonetheless caught by stray blasts of energy that knocked them both out.
The rest of the blast, meanwhile, struck their black sedan, which actually sent it flying through the air head over heels until it crashed into the wall on the opposite side of the alley. It fell to the ground with a loud crunch, smoking rising from the twisted remains of its engine as I stared at it in shock.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Jack!” Uncle Josh’s voice suddenly pierced the air. “What the hell are you doing with the Atlas Glove?”
Snapping out of my shock, I saw Uncle Josh walking toward me, his hands balled into fists. Even though he was completely uninjured from the attack, he nonetheless looked as if I had just fired a loaded gun in his face.
“I just wanted to help,” I said, lowering the Atlas Glove to my side, smoke rising from the fingertips. “I saw this suitcase in the trunk and—”
Uncle Josh stopped in front of me and tore the Atlas Glove off my hand immediately. He looked over the Glove briefly, perhaps to make sure it was still in one piece, and then looked at me with a disapproving scowl. “You could have killed yourself. The recoil alone is enough to break a person’s arm. It’s a miracle that you’re not writhing on the street screaming for your mommy from the pain of your broken arm.”
I winced at Uncle Josh’s harsh tone. “Well, my arm does hurt a little, but—”
“I don’t care,” Uncle Josh interrupted. “I don’t understand why you didn’t run when I told you to, but I guess you thought you’d play the hero or something. You could have gotten both of us killed or caused all kinds of collateral damage that I wouldn’t be able to explain to the police.”
“It’s not my fault I didn’t know what it was,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I still don’t know what it is.�
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“It’s a weapon,” said Uncle Josh as he looked around, perhaps to make sure that no one had heard the blast from the Atlas Glove. “And a dangerous one, at that. Like I said, you got lucky.”
I looked around Uncle Josh toward the back of the alley where the smoking car lay. Mohammad and the driver both still lay unconscious on the ground, though they could have been dead for all I knew. “And who are these guys and who is this ‘Superior’ they kept talking about?”
Uncle Josh rubbed the back of his head, an exasperated look on his face. “I’ll explain on the way home. For now, we need to get out of here. It’s possible that Mohammad and his friend might be the only two in Rumsfeld, but—”
“Only two what?” I said.
But Uncle Josh apparently didn’t hear me. He looked around again as he continued to speak. “Regardless, someone probably overheard the explosion and have no doubt called the police, which means we don’t have much time to get out of here.”
“Get out of here?” I repeated. “Why do we need to ‘get out of here’? Shouldn’t we stay so we can tell the police what happened?”
Uncle Josh looked at me in annoyance. “The last thing I need is for the police to know that I have the Atlas Glove or to start asking me about my connections to these guys. Even you’re not supposed to know about the Glove, but it’s too late now for you, I guess.”
“Well, why shouldn’t the police know you have the Atlas Glove?” I said. “Are you afraid they’ll confiscate it from you or something?”
“Something like that,” said Uncle Josh. “In any case, this is a bad place to sit and chat. Let’s go home. I’ll explain everything to you on the way back.”
I have to admit that I was curious enough about Uncle Josh’s secrets that I didn’t bother to argue. Besides, it wasn’t like I was very eager to meet the police myself, given how they were currently looking for me in connection to the murder of Baron Glory. Or, at least, they were looking for Trickshot, though of course it amounted to searching for me just the same.
Uncle Josh and I climbed back into his convertible, which he backed out of the alleyway and then went zooming down the streets, taking the long way back home, probably to give us more time to talk. Uncle Josh had put the Atlas Glove on the floor of the backseats, but I couldn’t help but feel nervous just the same, because I wasn’t sure what Uncle Josh was about to tell me. I scratched the face of the Trickshot Watch on my right hand, just in case I needed to use it.
“What about Mohammad and his driver?” I said, glancing over my shoulder out the back window of the car. “Are we just leaving them there or—?”
“Yes,” said Uncle Josh. “They’ll probably wake up soon and get away before the police get here, but if we’re lucky, they won’t have any idea where you or I went.”
“What if the police arrest them?” I said, looking at Uncle Josh again. “Would that be a problem or—”
“Nah,” said Uncle Josh, shaking his head, “though it wouldn’t be very useful for the police, I think, because all Icon agents carry cyanide pills on them for exactly that reason.”
I started. “Did you say those guys are Icon agents?”
“Yeah,” said Uncle Josh. He glanced at me as we passed the post office. “Have you heard of that organization before? I’d be surprised if you have, because they’re incredibly secretive and not too many people know about them.”
I thought through my next words quickly but carefully. I still couldn’t let Uncle Josh know that I was Trickshot yet. Therefore, I’d need a good excuse to explain how I knew about Icon, something that he wouldn’t think twice about.
“Yeah, I have,” I said casually. “I like to, uh, read conspiracy theories on the Internet for fun and Icon pops up in a lot of them, though I don’t know very much about the organization, to be frank. I thought it was just something a bunch of conspiracy theorists made up.”
“Oh, Icon is real, all right,” said Uncle Josh. “Real, and deadly. I wish I didn’t have to drag you into this at all, but those jerks just had to interrupt our day at the Lake. Typical Icon behavior. Attack the target when they least expect it. Usually works, but not this time, thankfully.”
“Why is Icon after you?” I said. “What did you do to earn their ire?”
“It’s sitting on the floor of the backseats behind us,” said Uncle Josh, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the Atlas Glove. “Why do you think Mohammad was asking for it?”
I looked at the Atlas Glove, which sat quietly on the floor of the car, and then back at Uncle Josh. “Did you actually steal that from them? Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I did,” said Uncle Josh, scratching the back of his neck. “But it was for a good reason. A very good reason, although Icon obviously disagrees.”
“And what is this ‘good’ reason?” I said. “And it better be good, because I’m not sure I want Icon gunning for me now that they know I’m related to you.”
Of course, Icon already knew that I was Trickshot, but I didn’t need to give them yet another reason to try to take me down. Ah, well. Such was the life of a superhero.
“Let me start from the beginning,” said Uncle Josh. “I work for another organization like Icon, but whereas Icon is the bad guys, my organization is the good guys. We call ourselves Pinnacle. I’m going to assume you haven’t heard of us.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I haven’t. What is Pinnacle?”
“It’s another secretive organization much like Icon,” said Uncle Josh. “But unlike Icon, we’re trying to do the right thing. We oppose them at every turn, though that doesn’t always mean we beat them, of course.”
I wasn’t sure whether to believe Uncle Josh’s claims about being part of yet another super secret spy organization, but I will admit I was really interested in finding out more about it. “How long have you worked for them?”
“Sixteen years,” said Uncle Josh, “so roughly about as long as you’ve been alive. It’s the main reason I had to go away and haven’t seen the family in forever. My work as an agent of Pinnacle means that I don’t get too many off days or too many days to go and visit friends and family the way I would at a normal job.”
“If that’s the case, then why did you and Mom act like you had a falling out?” I said. “If it was just work—”
“Ah, well, it wasn’t just work,” said Uncle Josh. “You see, when I first started working for Pinnacle, I had to leave right away. I didn’t have time to say good bye, so I left without saying good bye to anyone in the family. Mary thought I’d just up and abandoned everyone to go travel the world. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but I never got the chance because, like I said, I was really busy.”
“Does Mom know you work for Pinnacle now or—?”
“No,” said Uncle Josh, shaking his head. “She doesn’t know where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing over the last sixteen years, except what I’ve told her. Technically, I’m supposed to keep my membership in Pinnacle a secret from everyone. I shouldn’t even be telling you, but given the circumstances, I don’t have much of a choice in that matter right now.”
“So why did you join Pinnacle in the first place?” I said. “And what is Pinnacle, exactly? Who runs it?”
“Those are all questions I either can’t answer right now or don’t have time to,” said Uncle Josh as we made a sharp turn on a corner. “All you need to know is that we’re the good guys and Icon are the bad guys. It’s a bit more complicated than that, I guess, but that’s a good way to break it down.”
“Uh huh,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder at the Atlas Glove again and said, “And why did you steal the Atlas Glove and take it here to Rumsfeld? Heck, what are you doing in Rumsfeld in the first place?”
“I’m waiting for another Pinnacle agent to pick me up,” said Uncle Josh. “Without revealing too many details, I managed to break into Icon’s island headquarters—”
“They have an island headquarters?”
Uncle Josh nodded
and said, “Yeah. Located in the Gulf of Mexico, but due to its cloaking tech, it’s very hard to find. Took Pinnacle years just to figure out its general location. I wouldn’t recommend going there for a vacation if I were you.”
I nodded, but deep down, I was giddy with excitement. TW had told me that he didn’t know where Icon’s headquarters were, but Uncle Josh just gave me the general area I could look in. That meant there was a strong possibility that I could save Grandfather, assuming I could find Icon’s cloaked island headquarters.
“Anyway, that’s irrelevant,” said Uncle Josh. “So I broke into their headquarters, stole the Atlas Glove, and broke out. Unfortunately, I was spotted by a couple of Icon agents, which forced me to leave the island earlier than intended. I missed the helicopter that would have taken me back to Pinnacle HQ, but remembered that I had family here in Rumsfeld, so I came by to hang out until Pinnacle sent someone to pick me up.”
“That sounds like something straight out of a spy movie,” I said. “Like James Bond or something.”
“Unlike James Bond, it’s one hundred percent real,” said Uncle Josh. He shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. As you can tell, Icon is not going to let me get away with the Atlas Glove that easily. I figured they would send more agents than that, but given how deadly Mohammad is alone, maybe they thought he would be enough by himself to take me out.”
“You acted like you’ve met him before,” I said, glancing over my shoulder again just to make sure we weren’t being followed. “Mohammad, that is.”
Uncle Josh nodded with a dark grin on his face. “You can say that. The two of us have clashed more than a few times over the years on various missions. Last time I saw Mohammad was in China last year when I was trying to stop a load of Power from being delivered to a bunch of Uyghur terrorists. Thought for sure I killed the bastard, but I guess he must be tougher than he looks.”
I found it interesting that Icon was shipping Power to other countries in addition to America, but it also made me wonder just what the heck they were trying to accomplish. Were they trying to make money or did they have deeper motives than that?
