by Lucas Flint
“Kid, what are you doing?” said the guard. “Get back to the crowd or—”
Beams didn’t even let him finish his sentence. He squatted briefly before launching high into the air over the two guards, who shouted in surprise as Beams soared high above their heads.
But Beams soon forgot all about the guards. His focus was entirely on Hopper, whose finger was resting on the trigger of the handgun. Hopper did not seem to notice Beams coming toward him, but then Hopper suddenly looked up. A look of shock and confusion spread over Hopper’s face, but it was very brief because, in the next instant, Beams slammed his foot directly into the side of Hopper’s face.
A loud snap echoed throughout Times Square as Hopper staggered to the side and fell off the stage. His handgun fell to the floor beside White, who was now blinking rapidly as if he had just awakened from a bad nightmare.
Landing beside White, Beams looked up to see the two guards who had escorted White on stage aim their guns at him. But Beams fired two powerful laser blasts at the guards, striking them in the chest and sending them flying backward off the stage toward the guards who had guarded the steps. The four guards went tumbling off the stage in a confused tangle of limbs and armor, leaving Beams beside White completely unharmed.
That was when the screams started. In the crowd below, people suddenly began running around, shoving each other and bumping into each other, trampling anyone unlucky enough to get in their way. Beams realized that Hypno’s sleeper agents must have wakened up. He couldn’t see Lauren from here, but he figured she could take care of himself. Right now, he needed to focus on freeing White, who was still bound with those handcuffs.
“Hey, White, are you okay?” said Beams, kneeling beside him. “Can you hear me?”
White Lightning looked at Beams with his uncomprehending green eyes. “Who are you?”
“A friend,” said Beams, patting him on the shoulder. “A friend who will get you out of here. I’m going to take you back to your dad. How does that sound?”
A soft smile appeared on White’s lips. “Sounds good. But why is everyone screaming?”
“They’re having a party,” said Beams. He looked behind White at the cuffs around his wrists. There was indeed a transparent canister of gas attached to the cuffs. It was an ingenious design, but Beams would admire it later.
One good laser beam should break it without causing the canister to explode as well, Beams thought. Okay …
“Everyone is quiet,” said White suddenly. “Party over?”
Beams paused and looked back over the crowd. White was right. The rioting in Times Square had ended. And it wasn’t because the police had managed to get the crowd under control. Every single man, woman, and child who had come to attend the unveiling of the new statue stood stock still, like robots more than humans. They all wore the same glassy, uncomprehending expression on their face like they had all fallen asleep while standing. The only noises were the honks and beeps of cars in the distant New York City streets. Other than that, it had become as silent as a graveyard.
“My, my,” said an old, gravelly voice behind Beams. “I haven’t had to use my crowd control techniques in a long time. Looks like I still got it.”
Beams looked over his shoulder. President Sagan was standing up from his seat, with Vice President O’Brian holding his arm for support. Despite his weak frame, President Sagan had a look in his eyes that told Beams that he was just as dangerous as a much younger man.
“What did you do to these people?” said Beams. He stood up slowly and turned around to face Sagan.
Sagan chuckled. “’What did I do to these people’ … you make it sound like I killed them. I just calmed them down after they started rioting for no reason. It’s my duty as the President of the United States to bring peace and order to the people, though admittedly I prefer equality and justice.”
Beams sweat. “You mean you’re using your powers to control them.”
“Of course,” said Sagan. He tapped the side of his head. “I’m not just a telepath, you know. I can also control other peoples’ minds. Or attack them outright, depending on what I want.”
A sudden headache struck Beams like a boulder. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees, clutching his head with both hands, trying to make the pain go away but failing.
“Or I can multitask and do both at once,” said Sagan. “One of the perks of being a mental master, one you will never know, I am afraid to say.”
Beams gritted his teeth. He’d never faced mental pain like this before. It felt like a giant metal boot was stomping on his brain. That he managed to maintain his consciousness despite that was only because Sagan was going easy on him and he knew it.
Sagan tilted his head to the side. “Interesting. You’re from another universe, but you’ve allied with those rotten Dissidents to assassinate me. But you went against their plan when you saw White Lightning and decided to play the hero and save him. Hmph. You remind me of another headstrong superhuman young man I once knew, which is fitting because you will suffer the same fate as him for daring to oppose me.”
The pressure on Beams’ mind increased. He could feel his mind being crushed to pieces, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Go to sleep, boy,” said Sagan. “Sleep … forever, and never awaken again.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Did you say you wanted us to steal from Sasha Munroe?” said Bolt. “Do you mean the fat lady who ordered Rubberman to kill us?”
Monsoon nodded. “Yes. And I need you to steal some very important private information from her, private information which will help us prove that she is the criminal she is.”
“I don’t mind making life difficult for someone like her,” said Shade, “especially after she almost killed us, but why are you asking us to do this?”
Monsoon folded his hands on his lap. “Because I am a man who desires justice. I’m not a superhero, nor have I ever been one, but I’ve always admired them because, in our society, superheroes play an important role in maintaining public order and safety. That is why McCoy Robotics provides nothing but the highest quality robotic products to them because we want to ensure that our superheroes have all the equipment they need to make society safer for everyone.”
“Justice,” Bolt repeated. “How will stealing from Sasha get justice?”
“Sasha Munroe is a criminal,” said Monsoon simply. “She’s one of the richest women in the city and has a reputation as a philanthropist who cares deeply about her community. But in truth, Sasha Munroe is as corrupt as any executive of a major multinational corporation and she is behind many, many crimes.”
“Crimes like what?” said Bolt.
“Various,” said Monsoon. “For example, she once hired the infamous assassin known as ZZZ to take out a local politician who was investigating a crime she was connected to. She made it look as if someone else had hired ZZZ, but it was obvious to anyone familiar with the matter that Sasha had hired him and not some crime lord or rival politician.”
“She’s even crazier than I thought,” said Bolt, “though given how she ordered Rubberman to kill us when we wouldn’t work for her, I can’t say I’m too surprised to hear that.”
“Yes, Sasha doesn’t take rejection very well, as you’ve no doubt noticed,” said Monsoon, shaking his head. “When she wants something, she is willing to do anything—even break the law—to get it. And if she can’t get it, she has a tendency to make sure that no one else can get it, either.”
“What a brat,” said Shade. She leaned forward, a curious expression on her face. “But I wonder how you know about this and her other crimes.”
Monsoon sipped his coffee again. “Sasha and I run in many of the same circles due to our high-class status. There aren’t too many billionaires in the world, so naturally, you hear … rumors and whispers. True, sometimes it can be hard to know what is true and what is false sometimes even with people you know very well, but I have reason to believe most of the rum
ors about Sasha I have heard.”
Then Monsoon gestured at Greta standing behind him. “And, of course, I have had Greta here doing some investigations of her own, talking to her contacts in the criminal underworld, though she hasn’t found any evidence which would stand up in court, which is why I haven’t gone to the police yet.”
Greta said nothing to that. It made Bolt wonder, though, how such a sweet girl could possibly be involved in the criminal underworld. He would have to get her story later. For now, he would just focus on his conversation with Monsoon.
“Interesting,” said Bolt, stroking his chin, “but I think you’re pretty arrogant, talking about putting Sasha behind bars for her crimes while employing a criminal yourself. I seem to remember Greta also telling me that she steals stuff for you. Right, Greta?”
Greta stammered, “W-Well, I—”
Monsoon held up a hand and Greta fell silent, though she still looked a little embarrassed by Bolt’s question.
Lowering his hand onto the arm of his chair, Monsoon said, “It’s true that I’m not entirely spotless myself, but I, at least, keep my crimes in a narrow area that doesn’t harm people. Sasha, on the other hand, is a dangerous lunatic who has no qualms about destroying the lives of people who get in her way if she believes that will get her what she wants. She must be stopped.”
“Maybe we should stop you instead,” said Bolt, folding his arms across his chest.
Monsoon smiled. “You’re free to try, but keep in mind that Greta isn’t the only protection I have. The entire mansion has a vast array of robotic defenses that would assuredly destroy you well before you got out of the mansion. And that doesn’t include the human guards, who are all well-paid mercenaries with extensive combat experience fighting terrorists from their time in the US military. It would be interesting to see how you would fare, especially given how tired you seem.”
“I’m not tired,” said Bolt before yawning suddenly. “I’m full of energy, right, Shade?”
“Actually, a nap would be kind of nice about right now,” said Shade, rubbing her eyes. “Don’t think I’ve slept all day or however much time it’s been since we went to Jinkopa. How does time work in the multiverse, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” said Monsoon. “I was hoping you two might be able to tell me, but it is clear to me that you two ended up here accidentally, rather than deliberately, so you probably don’t know much more about dimension-hopping than I do.”
“Yeah, we did,” said Bolt. “And we want to go home because there’s a huge threat to the multiverse out there which we have to stop before it destroys everything we love.”
“Hmm,” said Monsoon, tapping his chin. “Tell me more about this threat.”
Bolt stood up. “Sorry, but unless you happen to have a dimensional portal on hand somewhere, Shade and I are going to leave. As much as I dislike Sasha, I’m not going to let myself be used as a pawn by another rich guy who thinks his crimes aren’t as bad as hers.”
“Leaving would be a bad idea,” said Monsoon. “You two are illegal superheroes, after all, which is a serious crime. I could easily have you two captured by my guards and handed to the police, who would be more than happy to put you behind bars for good. Then you will never be able to return to your universe. Ever.”
Bolt’s hands balled into fists, but he knew that Monsoon had a point. He and Shade didn’t know anyone in this universe who would be willing to help them, and he had a feeling that Monsoon, like Sasha, didn’t take rejection very well. He decided to hear out Monsoon’s request, at least for now.
Sitting back down in his chair, Bolt said, “Continue with your request. You mention something about Sasha’s computer having incriminating evidence on it.”
Monsoon sipped and lowered his coffee again, though he took his sweet time this time. “Yes. According to the intelligence which Greta has gathered, Sasha Munroe likely does most of her criminal activities through her own private laptop. We don’t know for sure, of course, but it’s as likely a place to check as anywhere else.”
“Why don’t you have Greta steal it?” said Bolt, glancing at Greta. “She steals everything else for you. Why not this?”
“Because Sasha carries her laptop with her everywhere she goes,” said Monsoon. “It rarely leaves her sight, and on the few occasions it does, she always puts it in a very secure place in her own private mansion, which is on the other side of town. Greta is good, but frankly, she isn’t her father. Were her father still alive, I would have him do it, but Greta here is still rather inexperienced in the art of theft and sneaking around, so I, unfortunately, cannot trust her to do it.”
Greta again said nothing to that, though she didn’t look offended. Bolt assumed that Greta and Monsoon must have already discussed this matter, otherwise, Greta didn’t look offended by his comments about her skills or lack thereof.
“But you two have an interesting set of powers that should make it easier for you to steal Sasha’s laptop,” said Monsoon. His eyes landed on Shade. “Shade, in particular, has powers that could prove useful for sneaking in and out of places easily, though I don’t know exactly how they work.”
“You’re right,” said Shade eagerly. “My shadow powers are very useful for sneaking around undetected. With my shadow travel ability, I can get into almost anywhere in the world as long as there is a shadow I can use as an entry point and I know where it is.”
“Excellent,” said Monsoon. “Then I take it that you are willing to accept this job?”
Bolt leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face. “Assuming we help you, what do we get in return?”
“What do you want?” said Monsoon simply. “Name your price. I’m rich enough that I could give you almost anything you want.”
“A dimensional portal to take us back home,” said Bolt. “Do you have one of those?”
Monsoon paused, which seemed odd to Bolt, but then shook his head. “No, I do not, but I can have my engineers begin work on one if you like. It’s largely theoretical, of course, but I trust that my engineers will be able to come up with something that could help you get back home. McCoy Robotics have the best engineers on the planet. If they can’t build it, then no one can.”
That hardly seemed like a fair deal to Bolt, because there was no guarantee that even the best of Monsoon’s engineers would be able to build something as complicated as a dimensional portal generator. It seemed almost foolish to accept this mission.
On the other hand, it isn’t like we have much choice here, Bolt thought. Monsoon is our best bet at getting back home … which is kind of depressing when you think about it. Maybe we’ll find a way back home later. At the very least, maybe Monsoon will be able to help clear our names so we can travel through this universe without having to worry about getting arrested by the police.
“All right,” said Bolt at last. “We’ll accept your job in exchange for the dimensional portal.”
Monsoon’s face broke into a grin. “Wonderful. Greta here will brief you on your mission and then you can leave within the hour. This is a mission I want to see done right away, so please do not waste any time. Justice shall be served and it shall be served coldly. Of that, I am convinced.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
His mind cracking under the pressure from Sagan’s mental attack, it was all Beams could do to keep his mind from being utterly destroyed. He had never faced a telepath before and, before today, would have told you that telepaths didn’t exist. Hence, he didn’t have any sort of defense for this kind of mental attack. It wasn’t something that Rubberman’s training had covered. He wasn’t even sure Rubberman could have foreseen something like this happening.
Sagan’s mental attack hit his mind again and again, like a tsunami crashing against a beach. Stuck on his knees, all Beams could do was put his hands on his head and try to protect his mind, but it was a losing battle. Bit by bit, his mind was being torn apart by Sagan’s vicious assault. He wasn’t sure what would happen to his body after his min
d was shattered, but he doubted it would be anything pretty.
Must … not … die … Beams thought.
Harsh laughter filled the chambers of his mind, echoing like a bomb in the distance. Impressive, young man. I expected one good mental strike would take you down, but you’re somehow still conscious. And you haven’t even dealt with telepaths before, either. Regardless, I can already feel your defenses crumbling under my onslaught. I estimate you have maybe ten seconds left before your mind is destroyed and your body rendered a useless vegetable.
That answered the question about what would happen to his body, but Beams didn’t care. He just realized that Sagan was right. Each mental attack chipped away at more and more of his mind. Soon, he wouldn’t even have a mind to speak of.
No … Beams thought. I … cannot … die … I must … not … DIE!
Beams suddenly felt a dark power rise from within his mind. It was an alien force, clearly not of his own nature, but at the same time, it felt strangely familiar, like he had felt it somewhere before recently. Wherever it came from and whatever it was, he could feel it adding its power to his own, increasing his mental defenses against Sagan’s onslaught.
And it didn’t merely add to his defenses. It multiplied them well beyond what he could have come up with on his own. In his mind, he imagined his normal mental defenses being like a small brick wall, capable of taking a few hits before crumbling under the heavy artillery that was Sagan’s mental assault.
But the new mental defenses which his mind drew upon were more like a big, beautiful wall spanning the entirety of his mind. Though Sagan’s mental attacks didn’t lessen, they were far less effective now, to the point where Beams barely even felt it. He opened his eyes and took his hands off his head, looking up at Sagan with anger flashing in his eyes.
Sagan, meanwhile, was clutching his head with one hand, still leaning on O’Brian. He was staring at Beams with a dumbfounded expression as if he couldn’t make sense of what just happened.
