My Evil Twin Is a Supervillain

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My Evil Twin Is a Supervillain Page 9

by David Solomons


  Zack tutted and turned to Lara. “You all set?”

  “Wait! No, you can’t go.” I laid a hand on my brother’s arm.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” he said wearily. “That Stellar’s only pretending to be a superhero. That he’s really a supervillain. But would a supervillain help promote Dad’s comic shop?”

  I thought for a moment. “Probably not Galactus, no. The Joker might. Lex Luthor definitely would, for a fee.”

  Serge mumbled his agreement.

  Zack sighed. “Face it, Luke, you’re wrong about Stellar.” He reached into a pocket for his wallet and removed what looked like a credit card. “You have been from the start.”

  Just when I was thinking that he was too young to have a credit card, I noticed that the card was emblazoned with his Star Lad sigil. Weird. I was about to quiz him about it when he signalled to Lara.

  “Dark Flutter, let’s suit up.”

  “Right behind you,” said Lara. “Look after this for me while I’m gone.” She handed me her precious phone. “I don’t want to risk taking it with me to another dimension.”

  I nodded in complete understanding. “In case it falls into the hands of a supervillain who uses the information contained on your SIM to discover your true identity and wreak havoc with your life?”

  “No.” She frowned. “Roaming charges.”

  I pocketed the phone and watched them as they headed off through the crowd for somewhere less public to change into their superhero outfits. They each had cover stories for their absence. As far as Mum and Dad were concerned, their eldest son would be boarding a chartered school bus, along with the rest of the track and field team, for three days of intensive coaching at Professor Xavier’s Academy for Gifted Youngsters. (OK, it wasn’t actually named after the X-Men’s secret school. It had some boring, sporty name, which I’ve forgotten.)

  I felt helpless but what could I do? As I considered my diminishing options, an idea struck me. I had one more card to play.

  “Serge, follow me,” I said, turning back to the shop. By then the queue was like a zombie uprising. Hundreds of grunting bodies pressed through the front door. Squeezing past them, we fought our way up to the roof. I shouldered my way through the access door and, with relief, saw Stellar peering down at the line of customers snaking all the way along the High Street.

  He gave a self-satisfied nod. “Pretty effective bit of advertising, even if I say so myself.” His expression darkened. “Though it won’t matter in the end. Dad won’t care. None of you will.”

  I barely registered his words – I was too angry with him. “I almost suffocated. You could’ve killed me, locking me up like that.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  It sounded as if he meant it. There was a ripple of excitement from the crowd below. They’d just noticed Star Lad and Dark Flutter descending from the sky to join Stellar on the roof.

  “Ready when you are, Ste—” Zack broke off when he saw me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m in the middle of a showdown with my Evil Twin,” I huffed.

  “Well, you and Serge can’t be up here. There are health and safety issues.” He counted off on his fingers. “This area lacks a safety rail. Those roof lights constitute a falling hazard. Neither of you can fly—”

  “Zack, give it a rest. I’m not going to fall off the roof, not unless he pushes me.” I pointed a rigid finger at Stellar. “And have you asked him what he’s doing here? If there’s now such a pressing need to fight Gorgon the World-Eater, why’s he wasting time flying over our shop, making speeches and drumming up business?”

  I could tell from Zack’s reaction that I’d scored a point, but before he could turn the question on Stellar, my Evil Twin spoke up.

  “I knew it might look odd, me showing up at the comic shop when we’d arranged our rendezvous for later,” he said, “but I wanted to help Dad. Before I left.”

  “He’s not your dad,” I snapped. “And what’s with the rendezvous point? I mean seriously, IKEA?”

  “They’re big, easy to spot from a long way off and there’s an IKEA in every universe,” he answered briskly. “They’re sort of like portals. Big blue portals. With meatballs.”

  Actually, that made a lot of sense. Darn it, he had an answer for everything. So instead of going after Stellar, I shifted my aim to Zack.

  “Lara and Serge can see that he’s lying; why can’t you?” Even as I posed the question, I knew the answer. Zack was terrible at seeing through lies. I think it’s because he always hoped for the best in people. “For the last time, there is no Gorgon the World-Eater or Gordon the World-Eater,” I said. “He’s a big, fat made-up supervillain.” I was conscious that my voice had gone up a notch and that I sounded like a screechy choirboy.

  “No, he isn’t,” responded Stellar.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  Zack stepped in between us like an umpire in a tennis match. “Enough!”

  I glowered at Stellar. “Well, one of us is lying and it’s not me.”

  “And it’s definitely not me,” he snapped back.

  There was only one way to resolve the situation. “Zack, you have to choose between us.”

  “So who do you believe?” said Stellar.

  “Me?”

  “Or him?”

  I could see Zack’s gaze move between us. Luke or Luke?

  “Aggh! One of you was bad enough, but this is impossible! Stellar, why are you even arguing with him? Gorgon the World-Eater is a fact, right?”

  I detected a hint of uncertainty in my brother’s voice. Stellar had heard it too. Something in his expression changed.

  “He’s real. Of course he’s real,” he protested. “Why would I make up something like that?”

  I pounced. “Aha! And that’s the burning question. So why did you?”

  We were eye to eye, a mirror image of each other, except that it was an evil mirror belonging to some dastardly fairytale queen. I was close enough to count his nose-hairs, but that wasn’t why I had brilliantly manoeuvred myself into this position.

  I had a plan.

  Superhero costumes are notorious for their lack of storage. When I’d helped Lara design hers I’d ensured that it included a number of easily accessible pockets, but with the exception of Dark Flutter – and Batman with his utility belt – most superheroes would struggle to pocket a two-finger Kit-Kat. I scoured Stellar’s costume. There was a single zip pocket at his chest, neatly concealed by the line of his starburst sigil.

  If he had the Top Trump card on him, it was in there.

  Flexing my fingers I prepared for the most important sleight of hand since Mandrake the Magician pulled his first rabbit out of a hat.

  I glanced up. “Ooh, is that Zorbon’s ship up there?”

  All eyes turned to scan the empty sky. With everyone’s attention on the non-existent craft, my fingers brushed Stellar’s zip then dipped into the pocket. One, two … Abraca-whammo!

  “Got you!” I had it. The card was back in my possession. I thrust it in front of Zack’s face. “See, I told you. I told you he wasn’t real.”

  As Zack inspected the Top Trump, I watched the colour drain from Stellar’s face.

  “He is real,” Stellar mumbled weakly.

  His plan was in tatters. I almost felt sorry for him. He could complain all he wanted; I had won. In the end, good had triumphed over evil, just as it always did.

  Stellar’s tone hardened, he balled his hands into fists and kept repeating, “He is real. He is. HE IS!”

  “There’s no point having a tantrum,” I said. “C’mon now, no hard feelings. Face it, you were outplayed by the better—”

  “Look!” cried Lara.

  Something was happening above the far end of the High Street. As I squinted at what appeared to be a crack in the sky, the air filled with an aroma like ten thousand sizzling deep-fat fryers.

  “It is une gerbille-’ole,” breat
hed Serge.

  In seconds it swelled from a jagged tear to something the size of a thundercloud. The sky darkened as the hole grew. And grew. A shape formed, its outline unmistakable. I should know, since I had drawn it. Dread gripped me, as dark as an eclipse. The outline filled up. Now it was something solid. Something utterly monstrous. It put one leg down and the ground shook like the earth had been hit by a wrecking-ball the size of the moon.

  Gordon the World-Eater stepped into the universe.

  Everything is true in the multiverse: gerbils with laser-eyes, rocket shoes and now this. Gordon the World-Eater was just as I – and Stellar – had drawn him all those years ago. He towered thirty storeys high in a pair of winged sandals, standing on legs as big as battleships. He had a ridiculously muscled torso impervious to all attacks, including magic, nuclear missiles and wasps (I remember having been stung by one around the time of his creation). Back when I’d drawn him I hadn’t understood that planets don’t twinkle, only stars. So, to be accurate, he ought to have been called the star-eater. Standing there on the roof of the comic shop I realised with horror that I’d accidentally purpose-built him to defeat Star Lad.

  But I wasn’t the one who’d summoned him through a dimensional portal. I turned my furious gaze on Stellar, who met it with a sheepish expression.

  “Oops.”

  “Oops? OOPS?!”

  “It’s not my fault,” he hissed. “I wouldn’t have been thinking about Gordon and I wouldn’t have accidentally, y’know, brought him into existence, if you hadn’t provoked me.”

  “Me?! Don’t try pinning this on me.”

  He put on a whiny voice. “Gordon’s not real, Gordon’s a Top Trump. You wouldn’t stop bugging me.”

  “Hate to interrupt,” said Zack. “But, umm, giant unstoppable supervillain about to destroy the world?”

  “There goes the Glades,” said Lara.

  The shopping centre took a direct hit from one of Gordon’s many destructor beams, which was unfortunate for a lot of reasons, one being that it had only just reopened following Star Lad’s battle in the Food Court with a giant alien robot last month. It went up in a shower of glass, brick and fast-moving consumer goods.

  “Leave this to me,” said Stellar. “I brought him here; I can send him back.”

  So saying, he closed his eyes and focused every fibre of his superpowered being on the task. His whole body shook with the effort. Sweat poured from his forehead. The veins at his temple throbbed.

  His eyes still squeezed tightly shut, Stellar’s voice came out in a strained whisper. “Tell me when he’s been dragged back into the dimensional void by my irresistible vortex of cosmic power.”

  “Not yet,” said Zack.

  “How about now?” grunted Stellar.

  “Um, no. Sorry.”

  “He just stomped on Nandos,” I added.

  Stellar opened his eyes. “Oh bum.”

  He had failed to banish the World-Eater back to the weird Top Trump dimension from which he’d come. Gordon was firmly in our world now, and judging by his reaction, he wasn’t a fan. He scythed his way along the High Street, causing devastation with each giant step.

  “We have to lead him away from the population centre,” said Zack. “But first I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  I held up the Top Trump card and the others clustered around. “Strength 100, Speed 100, Psionic Ability 100, Healing Power 10.”

  “Aha!” Zack seized on the last number. “So there’s a chink in his armour. A weakness we can exploit.”

  “Oh no, wait,” I said, re-examining the card. “It’s a bit smudged. It’s not 10 … it’s 100.”

  Zack snatched the card from my hand and began to read aloud. “Fire-breath, invisibility, poison toes, cyclone breath – wait, he’s got that and fire-breath?” He shook his head in disbelief. “At least now we know what we’re up against.”

  “Uh, no. There’s more,” I said. “On the back.”

  Zack flipped the card over. The list continued in three columns. “Night vision, X-ray vision, Laser vision. Heat ray, Freeze ray, Shrink ray. Energy Field. Energy Beam. Energy drink. Magnetism. Animal magnetism. Oh, and he has a Ring of Power. Great. What powers didn’t you give him?”

  “Flying,” I said.

  “OK, at least there’s that.”

  The sky turned stormy, flashes of lightning lit up the buildings, and Gordon the World-Eater materialised next to the comic shop.

  “Uh, that’s because you don’t need flight,” I confessed, “if you’ve got teleportation.”

  Zack triggered his force field just as Gordon let loose with a barrage of the aforementioned powers. The freeze ray and heat ray bounced off the protective field, but it began to weaken following a one-two punch of cyclone breath and fire breath. Zack staggered back, scrabbling for grip on the surface of the roof.

  Stellar added his powers to Zack’s. The force field held, but it soon became clear that even together they couldn’t withstand Gordon indefinitely. At some point, they would be overcome. It was only a matter of time.

  In quick succession two sonic booms pealed across the churning sky as a pair of alert fighters swooped down to engage the invader. Earth’s defence forces had detected the threat and sent a welcoming committee.

  “They got here fast,” I remarked.

  “Star Squad Six,” said Zack.

  “What Squad Who?”

  “After the business with Nemesis and the sue-dunham invasion, the military top brass got in touch,” Zack explained. “I’ve been working with them to set up quick-reaction forces across the country.”

  “When? In between your mocks?”

  He ignored me and continued to outline their Star Lad-specific role. “There are eight specialist squads consisting of personnel and equipment drawn from every branch of the military, whose job is to coordinate with me when the world is under threat.”

  I felt a bit put out at this latest development. “You mean like S.C.A.R.F.?”

  I didn’t hear Zack’s response, since at that moment the fighter jets’ look-down shoot-down radars identified the hostile and guided missiles leapt from their wings to home in on the target with unerring accuracy.

  Gordon the World-Eater spun round to deal with this new threat. Instead of dodging the missiles or intercepting them with one of his many beam-based weapons, he stood and waited directly in their path. They flew into the black hole that I’d drawn for his head and disappeared. There followed two faint explosions that sounded a lot like crunches. If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d eaten the missiles.

  “Their weapons are useless,” declared Zack.

  Seriously? Had he expected anything else?

  The jets circled about for a second run, this time lighting up the sky with cannon fire.

  “When you were creating this thing, you did give him a fatal flaw, right?” Zack yelled above the onslaught.

  “You mean like kryptonite?”

  “Exactly. But at this point I’d take a nut allergy.”

  I shook my head. “Whoever held the Gordon the World-Eater card won the game. Always. He’s unbeatable.”

  Stellar moved to the edge of the roof with a look of determination. “Then I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

  Before any of us could stop him, he had launched himself into the air.

  “Little fool!” yelled Zack. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

  Stellar streaked towards Gordon, a superpowered missile, locked on and unstoppable. Gordon’s heat ray bloomed, then his energy beam lanced across the sky. Stellar swerved, gracefully dodging each attack. He was closing in fast.

  “He’s going to do it!” muttered Lara in amazement.

  Even I was impressed – my Evil Twin had some moves.

  But then with a lazy swipe from one of his double-decker-sized hands, Gordon the World-Eater batted Stellar away like a bothersome fly, sending him spinning across the roofs of the High Street.

  “Super
hero down!” cried Serge.

  Stellar was down, but was he out? At that moment I had no way of knowing. I looked up as the beat of rotor-blades filled the air and a swarm of transport helicopters thundered low over the High Street, angling in for a landing. I counted at least six dual-rotor Chinooks. The leader broadcast a message: “Shoppers, prepare for immediate evacuation.”

  Even Star Squad Six couldn’t have foreseen the threat of a thirty-storey world-devouring terror crashing through the main shopping street, so this was an impressively speedy response. The helicopters touched down, military personnel jumped out and began to steer people towards the transports.

  It didn’t take long for Gordon to sense their presence. I hadn’t given him eyes, but he had a range of abilities that allowed him to detect even the merest vibration. He lowered his great head to investigate. It hung like a black sun over the nearest helicopter. At the sight of the monster, the pilot decided to take off in a hurry.

  “They’re not going to make it,” said Zack. “Not without help.”

  “My turn,” said Lara. With a squawk, she leapt from the roof. As she reached the top of her jump, a flock of birds swooped in and latched themselves on to her cape. She flew off swiftly in the direction of a dark cloud. For a moment I thought it was another gerbil-hole, but it was moving this way. Fast. As it drew closer I realised what I was watching.

  Lara returned – at the centre of the biggest flock of birds I’d ever seen. There had to be thousands of tiny fluttering…

  “Starlings?” said Serge. “What does she think that she is doing? This is madness.”

  The flock dived and swooped together, one great feathered mass, turning the air into vast black curves.

  Under Lara’s control, the flock began to form a new shape. It stretched and flailed, bent and twisted, like some nightmare creature trying to escape from quicksand, until at last its final form emerged. Even though I knew it was made entirely of tiny birds, the effect was striking. It appeared to be a creature, bigger than two titanosaurs glued together. Spikes ran the length of its crooked back; arms ended in hands that were whirling black blades; its legs were the size of skyscrapers. It dwarfed Gordon the World-Eater.

 

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