by Lee Bacon
“There’s New York up ahead!” Gavin pointed at the view of Manhattan in the distance. Skyscrapers rising up over the horizon, glimmering with the first rays of early-morning sunlight. And there in the bay to the south of New York City was the Statue of Liberty. It was a sight I’d seen a million times before in photos and movies.
But never like this.
17
The Statue of Liberty was draped in a giant purple T-shirt. And that wasn’t all. Instead of the golden torch that was supposed to be in her hand, she was now holding up an oversized remote control. In her other hand, the statue was gripping a bucket of fried chicken.
I blinked disbelievingly. Someone had turned the Statue of Liberty into an enormous couch potato.
As our SUV hovered closer, I saw someone floating around the statue’s head. He was wearing a purple and black uniform with a mask that covered half his face. A jet pack strapped to his back kept him afloat.
“Where are the rest of them?” Sophie stared out at the T-shirt–wearing Statue of Liberty with a look of bafflement in her eyes. “There’s no way only one guy did all this. Where are his accomplices?”
Nobody had an answer. The masked villain twisted in the air, noticing us for the first time. His face formed into a strange smile, as though he were pleased to see us.
And then he launched forward, flying out over the bay in the direction of Manhattan.
“Follow him!” Gavin yelled. “Don’t let him get away!”
Trace jerked the steering wheel, then slammed his foot on the gas. The SUV spun in the air, following the same trajectory as the escaping villain.
As soon as he reached the southern tip of Manhattan, the villain swooped close to the ground and vanished into the park beneath us. I caught glimpses of him weaving between trees and terrified early-morning joggers.
He appeared again at the edge of the park, rising into the air above the street and shooting between two buildings. Trace twisted the steering wheel, following him into the cavern of skyscrapers.
We lurched from side to side as Trace rocketed through intersections, making sudden turns, barely avoiding the edges of buildings.
We sailed deeper into the city, careful to keep the purple and black villain in our sights. A hot dog vender dove for his life and was buried in an avalanche of spilled buns. The city blurred past the SUV’s windows.
Up ahead, I saw Times Square. A crowded jumble of enormous billboards and flashing advertisements. Even this early in the morning, tourists roamed the sidewalks, and yellow cabs jammed the streets.
At Forty-Second Street, the villain skimmed a traffic light. It tipped sideways and crashed into the hood of our SUV. The impact sent us spinning wildly—right into an enormous advertisement for Samwell’s potato chips, ten stories off the ground.
Our uniforms’ padding protected us. Unfortunately, the SUV wasn’t in such good shape. Smoke billowed from the hood, and the back end was wedged into the side of the billboard. We were stuck.
I glanced out the window. There was a platform beneath the billboard we’d crashed into. But beneath that, it was a long drop to the street below.
“Brandy, Trace, and I will see what we can do about our transportation,” Gavin said. “The rest of you—do whatever you can to stop that guy.”
Suddenly, all of this felt much more real. We were no longer a half mile beneath the earth’s surface. And that guy out there wasn’t a part of some training procedure. He was an actual supervillain. And he was floating above Times Square, just waiting for us to make a move.
“Don’t worry,” nFinity said after a long moment had passed. “It always feels like this before facing an enemy. But we’re a team. And if we work together, this guy doesn’t stand a chance. After all, it’s five against one, right—”
nFinity’s speech was cut short by a loud POP. For a second, I thought the crash must’ve shaken something loose in my brain, because all of a sudden I was seeing double. There were now two supervillains drifting above Times Square. Each looked exactly like the other.
“Make that five against two,” Milton said.
“Wh-what just happened?” I asked.
Brandy stared at the two identical supervillains, stunned. “No,” she whispered. “It … it can’t be.”
Trace turned toward Gavin. All of Trace’s usual swagger was gone. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. “I-it’s him, isn’t it?” Trace stammered. “He’s back?”
“Who’s back?” Milton asked.
“Fifteen years,” Brandy murmured. “I thought he was dead.…”
The sound of her voice was absorbed by another blast of noise. Out of nowhere a third supervillain appeared beside the other two—each identical to the others. Two more loud pops, and the number increased again—from three to five.
“Would someone please explain what’s going on?” Milton asked.
“He calls himself Multiplier,” Gavin said. “He can create copies of himself. And copies of those copies. And—well, you get the idea.”
Sophie leaned forward in her seat, staring out the window in bewilderment. “All those other guys who just appeared—they’re … clones?”
“Exactly.”
At least now we knew how he could pull off such huge tasks by himself. He had an unlimited supply of copies working alongside him.
“You’ve got to capture the original,” Gavin said. “If you can do that, it’ll eliminate the clones.”
“How are we supposed to know which one’s the original?” I asked.
“Leave that to me,” Miranda said. “I should be able to Sense the real one.”
“Good!” Gavin said. “Now get out there and show the world what the Alliance of the Impossible can do!”
The door of the SUV swung open. And before I knew it, I was following the others onto an awning that overlooked Times Square. The giant Samwell’s potato chips billboard loomed over us. Below, a crowd had gathered on the street. They were looking up at us like we were just another flashy advertisement. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones who’d taken an interest in us. Multiplier and his clones were flying in our direction.
The swarm of identical supervillains wove through the air like oversized purple and black insects. The crowd below gasped and then broke into sudden applause. I guess they were under the impression that this was all some kind of free outdoor performance.
“There are five of them and five of us,” nFinity said, sounding like the quarterback in a huddle. “That’s one for each of us. If someone gets into trouble, call out. Remember—capture the original and that’ll take care of the rest. You ready, team?”
“Uh … do we have a choice?” Milton asked.
nFinity glanced back at Multiplier and his clones. They were closing in on us quickly. “Not really.”
Milton gulped. “Okay, then. Let’s do this.”
I guessed Milton was eager to start his career as a superhero, because he was the first to make his move. We were at least two hundred feet off the ground, but he leaped off the awning like it was nothing. A second later, his rocket-propulsion boots kicked in. And this time, they actually worked the way they were supposed to.
Milton rocketed straight for the crowd of villains. I watched him, too stunned to do anything else. In his uniform and his jet-shoes, facing down five identical supervillains, Milton looked more heroic than the rest of us combined.
Milton reached into his utility belt, grabbed hold of a silver canister, and tossed it. When the canister popped open, it unleashed a net that tangled around two of the Multipliers. They went tumbling toward the earth.
For a second there, we had an advantage. Five against three. But it didn’t last very long. There was a sound like firecrackers going off, and the number of Multipliers increased to seven. Nine if you counted those who were caught in the net.
Either way you added it up, we were in for a tough fight.
“That’s the one!” Miranda yelled, pointing. “The original—he’s in the mid
dle!”
“I’ll see if I can separate him from the rest of the group,” nFinity said, pulling out his streamlined hover scooter. He launched into the air, fire rushing out of his hands.
The group of Multipliers dispersed. nFinity followed the middle one as he veered downward, out of sight. Milton soared through the air, chasing after two others.
That left Sophie, Miranda, and me. Without any flying accessories, we were pinned to the platform, ten stories up. Meanwhile, the Multipliers had regrouped (and had added a few more clones to their ranks while they were at it). Nine purple and black villains drifted in front of us menacingly.
“How is this a fair fight?” I asked. “These guys can fly.”
“And multiply themselves,” Miranda pointed out.
“We’ve gotta do something to hold them off until nFinity can capture the original,” Sophie said.
Glowing underneath her uniform, she plunged her hand into the billboard behind us and ripped away a massive chunk of the plaster wall that the advertisement was glued to.
“Here you go.” She handed the section to me.
“Uh … thanks.” I looked down at the ragged piece of billboard in my hand. Stuck to one side was a picture of a gigantic potato chip. “What do you expect me to do with this?”
Sophie sighed, like she was trying to explain algebra to a toddler. “Use your Gyft to supercharge the thing. Then throw it at those goons.”
“And you might want to do it soon.” Miranda gestured toward the villains, twenty feet away from us. They were launching their attack.
“CHARGE!” screamed one of the clones, surging forward. The rest followed.
Focusing my mind, I shut out the roar of the clones’ jet packs. A jolt of energy coursed through my chest and down my arms. I threw the section of plaster material and watched as it arced high into the air, and then—
KA-BOOOOM!
The blast was even bigger than I’d expected. It sent the villains scattering in every direction. Shock waves shook the platform with such force that it snapped loose on one side. The ground beneath my feet suddenly tilted at a dangerous angle. Miranda and I grabbed hold of the railing, but Sophie was already off balance from the explosion. She lost her footing and slid farther and farther toward the edge.
I released my grip and dove after her, stretching out as far as I could, reaching until I grabbed hold of her hand.
For a split second, I had her. Unfortunately, nobody had me. Grasping Sophie with one hand, I clawed at the platform with the other, but there was nothing to stop the pull of gravity. My fingers slipped over the platform, and we both tumbled over the side.
18
I knew what was going to happen next. Without a jet pack or hover scooter—without anything to keep me from falling—there was only one possibility.
Splat.
Sophie spiraled downward beside me. At least I wasn’t going to die alone.
That was when I caught a glimpse of Captain Justice’s face. Relief rushed through my entire body. He’d arrived just in time. Like always. And now we were both saved.
Except something was off.
Captain Justice had a big head, but not that big. The face looking out at us was huge. And another thing I noticed … he wasn’t moving. Beside his face, bright silver letters glittered in the early-morning sunlight.
I read each line of text as I plummeted past it.
Hangin’ with Justice
A superheroic new reality series
Premiering this fall
It wasn’t Captain Justice. It was a billboard.
The enormous advertisement must’ve still been under construction, because a few panels were missing. Sections of rope hung down where the rest was being installed.
Reaching out, I grabbed one of the ropes. It lurched, then twisted. Sophie gripped my shoulders, and we slid downward, landing with a crash on a platform at the bottom of the billboard.
I glanced up at the three-story-tall picture of Captain Justice, ropes swaying down from the edges of the advertisement. He hadn’t rescued us, but his billboard sure had come in handy.
“Sophie?” I gasped.
Even though we were no longer falling, her arms gripped me tightly. Our faces were only inches apart. Her skin glowed brightly, and the lights from a million flashing advertisements swam in her blue-gray eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded, speaking in a distant voice. “I am now.”
The shock must’ve worn off a moment later, because Sophie let go of me suddenly and turned away.
“We should … uh—help the others,” she said quickly. “Looks like Multiplier’s cloned himself a few more times.”
Sophie was right. There were even more purple and black supervillains than before. But there was something different about the new clones. They looked … clumsy. One wobbled unsteadily in the air, as if unsure how his jet pack worked. Another kept bumping into a flashing advertisement like a moth knocking against a lightbulb.
“What’s wrong with them?” Sophie asked.
“No idea.” I watched as one of the clones accidentally rammed into another, sending them both tumbling toward the ground. “They’re less coordinated than the others.”
“But why?”
I shook my head. “Maybe clones get less effective over time. Like batteries.”
“But then why are some of them still in such good shape?” She pointed to other Multipliers. And it was true. Some of them showed way more skill than others. Three of them were chasing after Milton. Above, Miranda was alone on the billboard platform, Multipliers buzzing around her menacingly.
“We’ve got to help them,” Sophie said.
We decided to split up. She would take the clones below us, and I’d take the ones above. As Sophie hopped around the edge of the awning to make her way to the street, I grabbed hold of the nearest rope. I climbed up the length of the billboard and was almost level with Captain Justice’s left nostril when I saw something that nearly made me lose my grip.
One of the Multipliers had spotted me.
My chest thumped with fright. Hanging there, I was easy prey. The villain made a U-turn and streaked through the air in my direction. I braced myself, but the impact never came.
He missed me by about four feet.
“Oooops!” the villain said in a dull voice, soaring past.
I exhaled. The clone was a total klutz.
But he wasn’t through with me. Wobbling in the air, he made his unsteady progress back toward me. I could tell right away that he was flying too low to cause any danger. Not that I was safe just yet. It was only a matter of time before some of his clone buddies came along to help out. And they’d have better aim. I wasn’t about to just hang there, waiting for them to show up.
If I wanted to survive, I needed to act.
As the villain rocketed beneath me, I released my grip on the rope. For a moment, I was plummeting through the air. Then I landed on his back, slamming into his jet pack.
The clone let out a startled cry. He twisted from side to side, but I held tight—one slip was enough to get burned by the flames shooting out of his pack.
It was kind of like riding a bull in a rodeo. Except in this case, the bull was a dim-witted clone. And instead of being in a rodeo arena, we were flying a hundred feet above Times Square.
The more the clone shook and jolted, the tighter I held on. And after a while, I even figured out how to control his movements. Pulling on the back of his mask made him veer upward. Pushing his head toward the ground caused him to swoop down. And if he tried to resist, all it took was a little jolt of spontaneous combustion to shock him into obedience.
Now that I had my own personal clone transportation system, I was tempted to take a test flight around New York. But I didn’t know how much longer the others would hold up against the Multipliers they were fighting. Milton came running out of a tourist shop, trailed closely by a clone in an “I NY” T-shirt. Miranda was swinging down sc
affolding toward ground level, pursued by more clones.
When I spotted nFinity, I knew he was the one in the greatest danger. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of Multipliers teaming up against him, he’d been knocked off his hover scooter and was fighting with five clones in the street. One of them restrained nFinity’s arms behind his back, and the others crowded close in a violent mob.
The clone I was riding yelped as I tugged sideways on his mask. We set a course for nFinity. But getting there wouldn’t be quite so easy. A couple more Multipliers were trailing us.
We veered to the right, and the two clones followed. When we neared the Hangin’ with Justice billboard, I directed the clone sideways so that he swiped the billboard, knocking it loose from the building it was stuck to. The two Multipliers behind us tried to swerve out of the way, but it was too late. The Captain Justice billboard smacked them out of the air like an enormous flyswatter.
Steering my clone back toward nFinity, I saw that the situation had only worsened. Even more clones had joined the fight. One of them pulled out a plasma pistol and aimed it right for nFinity’s chest.
I had to get to nFinity—now.
I gave the clone I was riding a shock and felt an immediate boost in speed. Wind slammed my face. The scenery of Times Square blurred around me.
We were nearly at street level when the villain I was riding decided he’d had enough of being my personal transportation system. Before I had a chance to react, he unlatched himself from the straps of his jet pack and dropped away.
As the clone slipped out of my grip, I was left holding his jet pack. Except, without any way to control it, it wasn’t much of a jet pack at all. The rocket propulsion sputtered out. I still had so much momentum that I continued racing forward—even without jets roaring beneath me. Like a bowling ball, I slammed right through the pack of Multipliers.
My sudden intrusion caused enough of a disturbance for nFinity to free himself. The moment before I smashed into the pavement, he grabbed hold of the jet pack, slid his arms through the straps, and activated the propulsion engine. With a sudden jolt upward, we were flying again.
