by R. L. Ullman
“Who are you?” the Worm says, snapping me back to reality.
“Stay away!” I yell, scrambling to my feet.
“You scared of me?” the Worm says, flashing an ear-to-ear grin.
“Back off!” I shout, looking for somewhere to run. “I’m a Meta!”
“A Meta, huh?” says the Worm, clutching the orb. “You look like a lost little boy to me.” Then he lurches forward. “Boo!”
I take off.
I’m not looking where I’m going. I’m just trying to get as much distance between me and the Worm as possible. And that’s when I feel a meaty hand grab me by the back of the collar and lift me high into the air.
The next thing I know, I’m gazing into the wild eyes of Meta-Taker.
“Let me go!” I scream, trying to kick free.
But Meta-Taker doesn’t respond. He just stares at me, and I’m helpless to do anything but stare right back. To my horror, he’s even more frightening up close. His teeth are like knives, each one sharpened to a skin-piercing point. His breath is foul, like he’s swallowed a barge of rotten fish. And his eyes—his eyes are like doorways to the gates of Hell.
“Elliott!” I can hear Mom’s surprised scream.
“Release him!” Dad commands.
But Meta-Taker isn’t interested in what he has to say.
“Please,” I plead. “Let me go. I don’t have powers. I’m just a Zero.”
I look over at my parents. They’re frozen.
“Drop the boy and take me,” Dad says, inching closer with his hands in the air. “He has nothing for you, Meta-Taker.”
Meta-Taker’s eyes narrow. It’s as if he’s sensing me—studying me. Then his orange flames crackle slowly towards me. I push hard against his massive body, but I can’t break free. The flames dance across my skin and then seep inside my mouth. I feel a warm sensation flush through me. My body feels paralyzed!
But, suddenly, the brute stops cold and looks at me strangely.
And then his flames snuff out.
Meta-Taker registers a look of surprise. And then, he clutches his head and screams in agony, dropping me hard to the ground.
“I’m inside!” Mom shouts. “I don’t know how, but I’m in! Now! Do it now!”
“Glory Girl!” Dad calls into the open air.
Right then, out of nowhere, a crimson streak falls from the sky and catches Meta-Taker off-guard, pushing him back towards the very hole he came out of. Meta-Taker teeters at the edge, and then stumbles over backwards, disappearing into the abyss.
“Quick,” Dad says. “Bury him!”
The heroes combine their powers to fill in the hole with as much dirt and debris as they can find. The immediate threat is neutralized.
“TechnocRat,” Dad says. “We need a cell to contain him. And fast.”
“Working on it, Captain,” says the little rat, flipping open a computer mounted on his jetpack.
“Great job, Glory Girl,” Dad says. “Holding you in reserve kept your powers hidden from Meta-Taker and added the element of surprise we needed.”
Grace beams. She’s the hero.
And I’m the goat.
Mom runs over to me. “Elliott, are you okay? What in the world are you doing here?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I answer. “I really don’t know.”
Just then, a large fly buzzes around my head a few times and drops on my knee. It stares at me with its big, green eyes before I shoo it away. Strangely, it doesn’t leave. It hovers for a few seconds, probably feeling sorry for me, and then it looks at me, looks at my mom, looks at me again, and takes off.
It’s been that kind of a day.
Mom kneels down and hugs me. “Thank goodness, you’re okay.”
“Elliott, you’re grounded,” Dad says. “That was irresponsible. You could have gotten yourself or someone else killed.”
“That’s fine,” I mutter, accepting my punishment. I deserve whatever book they’re going to throw at me.
“I don’t know what happened,” Mom says with a shudder. “I couldn’t get inside his head for the longest time, and then all of the sudden, I could. The anger inside of him was so intense.”
Then I remember the Worm and that weird orb.
“Hey,” I say. “You wouldn’t believe who else was here. The Worm! We’ve got to catch him!”
“The Worm?” Dad says, looking around. “That lowlife? He must have been passing through. This fight was way out of his league. I’m guessing he slithered away happy not be mixed up in all of this.”
For some reason I wasn’t so sure, but after all the trouble I’d caused I decide to keep my mouth shut.
“Why don’t the three of you head back to the Waystation,” Dad says. “We’ll find Blue Bolt and wrap it up from here.”
Mom, Grace and I head up the Freedom Flyer ramp. Right before we take off I remember I had dropped something. My phone!
I lower the hatch and, after a few minutes of frantic searching, find it tucked beneath a rock. It looks a little more beaten up then I remember, but then again, so am I.
I PUT MY NEW “POWERS” ON SPEED DIAL
After tossing and turning, hopelessly trying to erase the day’s events from my mind, I finally manage to doze off only to be woken moments later by my phone that’s vibrating on the nightstand like a rabid woodpecker. Half asleep, I lift my head, fresh drool running down my chin, wondering what all the ruckus is about. Only the Freedom Force has my number and they returned hours ago after depositing Meta-Taker in his cozy new prison accommodations at Lockdown.
So, I’m clueless about who’s texting me.
Clawing for my mobile, I palm it and pull it close. The light from the display panel temporarily blinds me, but my eyes adjust quickly to find ten text messages and more coming in by the second:
>Taser: Big score 2nite. Anyone in? ☺<
>Brawler: Pizza? Where? Time?<
>Taser: No idiot! Bank job. Keystone Savings. 11PM.<
>Makeshift: Tx for invite. What about Freedom Force?<
>Brawler: U not bringing pizza? :( <
>Taser: Not concerned about FF. Small job.<
>Taser: And no pizza!!!<
>Makeshift: What’s the split?<
>Taser: 33% each.<
>Makeshift: I want 60%. U clearly need help.<
>Taser: 40% max.<
>Makeshift: 55%.<
>Brawler: How about doughnuts?<
>Taser: 45%.<
>Makeshift: Forget it. Need 2 wash parrot 2nite.<
>Taser: Fine. 50%?<
>Makeshift: See u at 11! ☺<
At first, I have no clue what’s happening. And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. This isn’t my phone. It’s the Worm’s! They must have been the same color and the same brand. We must have mixed them up when we collided!
The only sound I hear is my heart thumping against my chest. I throw off the covers, jump out of bed and start pacing. As if this whole mess couldn’t possibly get any worse, Mom and Dad are literally going to kill me if they find out a villain has my phone! They’ll have me drawn and quartered, and then they’ll take my quarters and draw and quarter them again.
Another text comes across. I tap the button to read it when I realize something’s wrong. Where’s the security code screen? There’s no security code screen?
Wait, there’s no security code screen! My phone has a security code screen! And then I remember I’d set it to wipe the device after three failed security code attempts.
Yes! Yes! Yes! I may get to live!
I flop down on the bed, relief washing over me. But I still need to tell my parents. They have a right to know that an official piece of Freedom Force property has fallen into the hands of a known criminal. That would be the right thing to do. But then again ...
The Worm isn’t really a threat, is he? I mean, c’mon, it’s the Worm. A Meta 1. I’m sure he messed up the security code by now and erased all the data. So do I really need to tell my parents? I can just sa
y my phone got obliterated in the battle by some rogue laser beam and now I need a new one. Then they can still get in touch with me, and I can hold on to this one! I look down at The Worm’s phone. More texts:
>Brawler: Never heard back on the doughnuts?<
>Taser: NO DOUGHNUTS U IDIOT!!!!!!!!!<
>Brawler: Ok. U don’t have 2 yell! :( <
I stay up all night flipping through the Worm’s contact list and trolling through his texts. Most of it’s in shorthand, but I manage to identify his ordinary contacts like his mom, his dry cleaner, his favorite Mexican restaurant, his barber—don’t know why a bald man needs a barber—from his Meta contacts.
By the end of it, I’m pretty sure that Taser is the Meta 1 energy manipulator that can shoot electric currents from his hands. And, Brawler is the Meta 1 strongman that gets his strength from radioactive beer. But I can’t find any reference to whoever “Makeshift” is. However, it’s clear from their group texts that they’ve been talking about pulling off a job for a while, but have never gotten it together. They also use a lot of freaking profanity.
But despite all of my searching, I’m not able to find anything linking the Worm to Meta-Taker. Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe the Worm was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But there’s something strange about that orb. What is it and what’s the Worm doing with it? I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more to this story.
Something I’m missing.
At this point, I’m completely bleary-eyed when my alarm goes off. Somehow, morning snuck up on me which means it’s time to get ready for school. Oh. Joy. I wait a few minutes and my second alarm comes right on schedule.
There’s a knock at my door.
“Hey, Powerless Boy,” Grace says mockingly. “Get up or you’re gonna be late!”
I look down at the Worm’s phone.
Powerless Boy, huh? Maybe. But then again, maybe not …
I dress quickly and head down to the Galley for breakfast. After my screw-up the day before, I know this isn’t going to be pleasant.
“Good morning, Elliott,” Mom says. “How are you feeling?”
“Um, kind of tired,” I answer. “And sore.”
“Remember, Elliott,” Dad says sternly. “You’re grounded. I expect you home right after school.”
“I know,” I say. Truthfully, being grounded didn’t mean much. I’m always home right after school anyway.
“And no monitor duty,” he adds.
“Got it,” I say. Well, that part sucks.
“Look for me on the five o’clock news,” Grace says smugly. “They want to interview me about how I saved the world from Meta-Taker.”
“Oh, I’ll be sure to tune in for that,” I say with dripping sarcasm as I grab a cereal bar and stuff it into my backpack. I sit down at the table and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Oh, I almost forgot. I need a new phone. Mine was vaporized by one of Master Mime’s energy sprockets.”
“Okay, just get one from TechnocRat,” Dad says.
“Cool.” Whew! That was easy. Now for part two. “I also had the weirdest dream last night.”
“Really,” says Dad, not lowering his paper. “What kind of dream?”
“Well,” I say. “I had this dream that Keystone Savings Bank was going to get robbed. I had this really clear image that three Metas were involved.”
Dad lowers his paper a little. “That is weird.”
“Yeah,” I say. “There were three guys. All Meta 1’s. An energy manipulator, a really strong brutish guy, and one I couldn’t make out too clearly, but seemed kind of harmless.”
Dad and Mom look at each other.
“I feel like it might happen tonight. Around eleven.”
“At eleven?” Mom says with a surprised look. “Well, that’s certainly specific. Okay. I guess we’ll keep our eyes and ears open.”
There, the seed is planted.
“Hogwash!” Grace says. “Your brain must’ve bounced when Meta-Taker dropped you on it.” She scoops up her backpack and races for the Transporter. “Later peeps, I’ve gotta split!”
I grab my bag and chase her down, managing to make it right before the door shuts. We travel in silence and re-atomize at the Prop House.
“Are you such a loser that you have to make up stories for attention?” Grace says. “It must really suck being you.”
She walks outside and looks both ways to make sure no one’s around, and then takes off into the air, leaving me alone on the front stoop. I lock the door and head off to school.
All of a sudden, my phone starts going nuts again. More texts:
>Taser: Anyone got smoke bomb?<
>Makeshift: Nope.<
>Brawler: Yes. Why?<
>Taser: Need for job.<
>Brawler: 4 2nite?<
>Taser: No 4 gopher in my garden. YES 2NITE!<
>Brawler: Still yelling! :( <
That actually makes me chuckle.
Then my cell is yanked right out of my hands.
“Well, look who came back,” kid giant says, tossing my phone from one over-sized mitt to the other. “It’s the wimpy kid. I got a week’s detention because of you. And the Cafeteria Lady’s been giving me the stink eye.”
I stay calm despite my inner sense of panic. I need that phone back! Without it, I can’t keep pretending I have powers. “Listen,” I say. “I’m sure I can avoid injury and you can avoid incarceration if you simply give me the phone and we go our separate ways.”
Another crowd starts forming. Here we go again.
“Uh-uh,” he says, dangling the phone in front of me, “If you want it, come and get it.”
I reach out and he steps backwards. The other kids laugh. He holds it out and I try again. Same result. He’s baiting me. Toying with me.
“C’mon,” I say. “We’re going to be late for class.”
“This is much more fun than class,” he snorts.
Just then, a girl I’ve never seen before strides forward. She’s a little taller than me and is dressed kind of preppy with a white oxford shirt and slim, dark-washed jeans. She’s really pretty, with long dark hair falling in ringlets to her shoulders. I have no idea what she’s doing.
She looks at me with her bright, green eyes and says, “You heard him. If you want your phone, take it from him.”
But I don’t move. I’m so shocked she’s talking to me that I’m glued to the spot.
Suddenly, the girl steps forward, punches kid giant in the gut and says, “If you tell on me, I’ll do it again. But harder next time.”
Kid giant topples over, struggling to catch his breath.
“Never show weakness,” she says. And then she hands me my phone and walks away.
I BITE OFF MORE PAIN THAN I CAN CHEW
The texts keep rolling in all day. There are threads about bank vault designs, security camera locations, getaway routes and contingency plans should a good guy show up. Everything finally settles down at four o’clock. Their plan is set.
And I’m home alone. Grounded.
Well, I guess Dog-Gone is around, but he disappeared after eating my cereal when I went to the bathroom. The school day was a total blur. Aside from keeping up with the flurry of text messages, I found myself thinking a lot about that girl from this morning.
She ended up being in my Social Studies class. That’s where I learned her name was Cammie and she’d just moved to town. She seems really smart and raised her hand a lot to answer questions. She didn’t look my way once.
I keep thinking about what she said. Never show weakness. Does she think I’m weak? Deep down, I know the answer. I never stand up for myself. Not to Grace. Not to that bully. Not to anyone. Maybe it’s time I started.
Being grounded was infinitely more boring than just being home on a regular day, and I was getting tired of sitting around twiddling my thumbs. Dad said I can’t do monitor duty, but he didn’t say anything about the Combat Room.
The Combat Room is on the lowest level of the
Waystation. It’s where the Freedom Force hones their powers and practices their fighting skills. The Combat Room was designed by TechnocRat and uses advanced holographic technology reinforced with force fields to project hard images that look and feel real. The Combat Room can create any situation imaginable, from a run-of-the-mill street mugging to an all-out Meta villain assault. While I’ve watched countless hours of Combat Room training from the safety of playback video, I was never allowed to participate in an actual combat scenario.
Today that’s about to change.
I enter the Combat Room and take a deep breath. The room is massive, equivalent to a large aircraft hangar. The entire space is stark white with no windows or doors—except for the one I came in from. It’s also eerily silent.
Until you make GISMO aware of your presence.
“GISMO,” I call, my voice echoing through the vast chamber.
There’s a low hum followed by a series of beeps.
“GISMO online,” came a warm, mechanical voice. “Good afternoon, Elliott Harkness.”
GISMO is short for Global Intelligence Simulation Model Operator. GISMO was designed to run the Combat Room. It’s GISMO’s job to track the progress of participants through the simulation. If things are going well, GISMO can make the challenge more difficult. If things are going poorly, GISMO can end the simulation with a simple voice command.
Now all I need to do is pick a training module. The words “never show weakness” stick in my mind.
“GISMO,” I say. “Please load training module SS12.”
There’s a pause.
“Simulation warning,” GISMO states. “Training module SS12 is an intermediate module for Meta’s possessing super strength.”
“Yes, GISMO,” I answer. “I understand. Please load training module SS12.”
Another pause.
“GISMO is not authorized to load training module SS12 for Elliott Harkness. Elliott Harkness does not possess Meta level super str—”
“Override sequence B321ZFINAL,” I command.
