Текст книги "M Is for Mama's Boy"

Автор книги: Michael Buckley

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

“Wait, I thought you just wanted to destroy this one kid,” Albert said. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to take over the world.”

Simon’s eyes shone in the spotlight. “Albert, I’m an evil genius. It’s always about taking over the world. Oh, don’t frown. I think it’s a small price to pay for superpowers, don’t you?”

Like a lot of gym teachers, Coach Babcock loved to torture his students. He felt he had failed as a teacher if his students didn’t cry out for mercy. He often bragged that he held the school district’s record for causing the most hysterical breakdowns in one afternoon. He used such classic forms of torture as weight training, wrestling, long-distance running, rope climbing, wind sprints, chin-ups, and the occasional game of wet dodgeball (the wet ball was superloud when it hit a kid, and it left a huge red welt). But his favorite device of torment was so horrible, so truly evil, that it would drive most children to the brink of madness. It was the square dance.

For six weeks of the school year, his students suffered through the Star Promenade, the Slip the Clutch, and the Ferris Wheel. As Babcock saw it, square dancing was the most embarrassing and uncomfortable form of dancing ever created, and a perfect way to prepare his students for the crushing heartbreak of life. Square dancing was a metaphor for life—you got swung around and just when you thought you were free, you got dragged back into the dance. He really thought he was doing the kids a favor.

But he couldn’t teach them if the tornado alarm kept going off in the middle of a do-si-do, like it was now. Babcock looked out the window at the crystal-blue sky and sighed. Arlington had more tornado warnings than any place he had ever lived, and all of them were false alarms. He considered ignoring the siren and forcing his class to continue to Flip the Diamond, but if a tornado came after all and one of the kids got blown away, well, he’d be in for another disciplinary hearing. Discouraged, he ordered the children out through the double doors to the basement, where they would be safe. He left the gym empty, except for the sounds of fiddles and banjos coming from the old record player.

When everyone was gone, a slender hand removed the needle from the dusty record and the music stopped. Ms. Lisa Holiday locked the double doors that led out of the gym, then did the same to the emergency door. When she was satisfied there were no prying eyes, she rushed across the recently waxed gym floor, her high heels tapping out every step. When she got to the thick rope that hung down from the rafters, she grasped it in both hands and gave it three quick tugs. At once an unseen machine began to rumble beneath her feet. A blue light on the gym wall started to flash and the ceiling above slowly and silently retracted, revealing the bright blue sky above.

“All clear,” she said, and a wall of the gym spun around and a team of scientists in white coats rushed into the room, followed by a team of mechanics wearing bright orange jumpsuits and hoods. Then part of the floor opened and slowly an enormous space jet rose up from below. It was painted yellow just like a school bus and had two huge wings and a needle nose. The mechanics busied themselves attaching huge fuel tubes to it while the scientists opened control panels and tinkered with its engine.

Finally, Agent Brand hobbled into the room with the help of his cane. Behind him were Duncan, Ruby, Matilda, Jackson, and Flinch.

Duncan smiled. He loved the School Bus—the name they had given the ship. He had seen plenty of spy movies with dashing heroes, but none of them had a space jet! He rushed to it and was soon climbing up the side like a spider. He startled a scientist standing on a lift checking the wind calculators in the ship’s nose. The man tumbled backward. Luckily, Matilda was already zipping about using her superinhalers and managed to snatch him in free fall. She dropped him into Flinch’s strong arms.

“Sorry,” Duncan called out sheepishly.

The scientist was not amused. He shouted at the boy angrily and stormed off to file an official complaint.

Jackson’s braces sprang out of his mouth and lifted him up to where Duncan was perched.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jackson said. “I’ve got a folder as thick as a phone book full of complaints. What can they do to us?”

“They can deduct fines from your pay,” Ruby said from below.

“Hey! They pay us?” Jackson cried.

“Children, the lunch lady has been summoned and we’ll be lifting off momentarily,” Ms. Holiday said from below. “I need to prepare you for the mission. Come back down.”

Duncan scurried down the side of the space jet and Jackson lowered himself to the floor, where they were joined by their teammates.

“Where are we going?” Ruby said.

“Edinburgh, Scotland,” Agent Brand said. “Our friend Simon has resumed his criminal mischief. We’ve gotten word that he’s trying to rob the Royal Bank of Scotland, but naturally, you five are going to stop him.”

“Yes we are,” Ruby said with confidence.

“And then I’m going to bodyslam him,” Matilda said.

“Let’s get this bird in the air,” the lunch lady said as he ran through the open tunnel into the gym. “I’ve got a whole room of hungry kindergartners and you have no idea how vicious they can get when they have to wait on pizza day.” He raced up the space jet’s platform and leaped into the cockpit. A second later there was a rumbling roar and the engines ignited with blue flame.

Ms. Holiday and Mr. Brand led the children onto the ship and helped strap them into their seats. Within moments the space jet was blasting toward the stratosphere, leaving the gymnasium behind. Soon it was just a tiny spec outside the window.

“What do you think of our new School Bus?” Ms. Holiday asked Duncan.

Duncan smiled. The old rocket had been lost when the team was trying to stop Dr. Jigsaw from destroying the world. The new ship was ten times as fast. Unlike a plane, the School Bus didn’t fly across the horizon as it went from point A to point B. Instead, it soared right up into space, waited for the planet to spin, then rocketed back down to the desired location. The method allowed them to travel anywhere on the planet in no time. It was how they managed to go on missions during school hours.

“It’s an incredible machine and very efficient,” Duncan said to Ms. Holiday. “The numbers I’ve read on fuel consumption are truly breathtaking. This machine gets gas mileage as good as a compact car.”

“I like the snacks!” Flinch said as he opened four packages of caramels stored beneath his seat.

Duncan shrugged. He couldn’t expect his teammate to get as excited about technology as he did. Most of the team had little interest in understanding the tools they had at their disposal as long as the tools worked. Ruby knew her way around computers, but her fancy pocket notebook with its state-of-the-art processor was just a laptop computer to her. Duncan, however, saw machines, no matter how small or simple, as miracles. He marveled at the imagination required to design them. So much love and passion had gone into them—sparked by a flash of genius. Machines were truly dreams come to life.

His teammates would have been surprised to discover that Duncan hadn’t always had a love of learning and technology. In fact, just a few years before, he had been a below-average student, in a below-average school, in a below-average neighborhood. As a third grader at Elmhurst Elementary, a school notorious for its discipline problems and filled with exhausted teachers, he drifted down hallways like a ghost. He was shy and had few friends. And because his parents had taught him to respect teachers, the few friends he did have thought he was weird. He was in serious jeopardy of falling through the cracks—until the day he became a school celebrity. It all happened by accident during one of Ms. Corron’s art classes. That day, as Duncan worked furiously on a dried corn and peas paste portrait of his mother, he spotted Renee Seal sniffing a glob of dried craft glue she had found on her desk. Her neighbor, a notorious prankster named Kevin Houser, told her to eat it. When she refused, he resorted to the best means of coercion a third grader has at his disposal: He dared her.

The class held its collective breath, knowing the full nature of a dare. If Renee refused, she would be shamed by her peers– possibly even shunned. But a second sniff of the glob told Renee it was better to be friendless than eat paste. She declined. Kevin was triumphant and searched the class for another victim.

“What about you, Duncan? Are you brave enough to eat the glue?”

Duncan shook his head. He was busy trying to get a pea just right so that his mom didn’t look like a Cyclops.

“I double dare you,” Kevin said, causing every kid in the class to drop their project. A double dare was high stakes. For some, the tension of the moment would cause nightmares and bed-wetting.

Duncan eyed the glue, then scanned the classroom. Even Ms. Corron was sitting on the edge of her seat biting her fingernails. He had never gotten so much attention in his life. Every eye was on him. If he chickened out, he would be subjected to even more ridicule than usual. He had to do it. He had to be brave. He shrugged, snatched the glob off the desk, popped it into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed to a symphony of “Ewwwww!”

“I can’t believe you did it,” Kevin said, looking stunned. “I bet you won’t do it again.”

“What’s in it for me?” Duncan said.

“Five bucks,” Kevin replied.

Duncan reached over and snatched the bottle off the table. He unscrewed the cap and poured it into his mouth. Then he licked his chops. “Pay up!”

Another giant “Ewwwwwwww!” rose up in the room. Ms. Corron nearly fainted.

Kevin reached into his pocket and handed Duncan a crumpled five-dollar bill. He didn’t look angry at losing his money or even humiliated; in fact, he looked like he had just won the lottery. From that moment on, Kevin stuck to Duncan, well . . . like glue. He paraded the chubby boy through the school, boasting about his strange taste in food, turning Duncan into his own personal sideshow and offering to repeat the art class incident for anyone who was willing to pay to see it. Much to Duncan’s surprise, lots of people were willing. He and Kevin did six shows a day, in empty broom closets, bathrooms, and the boiler room. There were even Saturday and Sunday matinees on the playground.

“Come see the amazing Gluestick—the boy who eats paste!”

Kevin took an unusually high cut of the money, 75 percent, but Duncan didn’t mind. He was a star, getting more attention than he ever dreamed possible. Plus, he actually liked eating paste. It was soft, like custard, but with a woody flavor. Kevin said it would ruin the show if the kids suspected that eating paste was a pleasant thing to do. He didn’t want a copycat act muscling in on their spotlight. So Duncan pretended to loathe it.

Soon, however, Duncan and Kevin’s carnival act came to the attention of the principal, who brought it to the attention of Avery and Aiah. Duncan’s parents listened to details of the whole tawdry scheme while staring at their son as if he had six heads. The next day, his parents started looking for a home in a new school district far away from Elmhurst Elementary and Kevin Houser.

Nathan Hale Elementary was one of the best public schools in the state, and it was nestled in a tree-lined community that offered the family a fresh start. The mortgage was crippling, but if Duncan’s parents saved and scrimped and cut coupons, the family would survive. The struggle would be worth it to get their kid back on the right track. Unfortunately, what Avery and Aiah didn’t know was that Kevin Houser had a cousin at Nathan Hale by the name of Brett Bealer. Kevin had told Brett all about Duncan’s taste for sticky adhesives, but unlike his more business-minded relative, Brett used the information to taunt Duncan, not profit from him. Before the boy could make a single friend, he was awarded a series of mean nicknames: Paste Boy, Sticky, Elmerface, Crazyglue. The list went on and on. It looked as if someone had flipped the Off switch on Duncan’s bright new start.

That was until a young boy with the biggest set of buckteeth he had ever seen approached Duncan in the cafeteria.

“Are you the kid who eats the paste?”

Duncan nodded, his face bright red with embarrassment.

“My name is Heathcliff Hodges. I represent a group of people who would like to meet you. We believe you have the makings of a hero.”

Now, Heathcliff’s face haunted Duncan’s memory. The boy with the big teeth had recruited him onto the team and helped train him. Duncan had been more surprised and saddened than anyone when Heathcliff betrayed them. He didn’t like the idea of having to face his former friend again.

“How do we know Heathcliff is robbing this bank?” Jackson asked now.

“Police reports are claiming that dozens of squirrels are scampering around inside. There was also a trail of walnut shells on the sidewalk,” Agent Brand replied.

“BEAEEAGGGCH,” Flinch cried, then turned the knob on his harness. The caramels had sent him into an overexcited fit. “Sounds like our nutcase. Don’t worry, we’ll handle him. And this time we’ll make sure we catch him.”

“Ms. Holiday, a little information about our destination, please,” Brand said.

Ms. Holiday stood up, straightened her skirt, then waved her hand over a sensor. Behind her a map of Scotland appeared on a bank of monitors.

“Scotland is part of the United Kingdom. It consists of over 790 islands and has an ancient culture dating back to the Neolithic period.”

“Um, the what period?” Jackson asked.

“The stone ages,” Ruby snarled. “Don’t you ever do your homework?”

“My strategy is to coast on my looks,” Jackson said, then stuck his tongue out at her.

Ms. Holiday continued. “Much of the country’s history is that of internal wars and those with its southern neighbor, England. The population has strong nationalist pride, and it’s not uncommon to see men wearing the traditional Scottish garb known as the kilt.”

The computer screen showed a man carrying a briefcase and wearing a skirt.

“The modern Scot wears the kilt as a sign of national pride and as part of formal business attire. If you encounter someone wearing one, show them respect. It takes a tough man to wear a skirt in the frosty Scottish air.”

“That means no giggling,” Ruby said, eyeballing Jackson.

“Holiday is right, kids,” the lunch lady said from his cockpit. “My father was Scottish, and the last thing you wanted to do was make fun of his kilt.”

“You’re headed to the Bank of Scotland on Picardy Place, not far from Princes Street, in the capital of Edinburgh. The bank is one of Europe’s oldest, dating back to the seventeenth century,” the librarian added. “You can imagine that a company that’s been around since the seventeenth century has learned a thing or two about security. Their system is one of the most advanced in the world. Motion and heat sensors; twenty-four-hour surveillance; a vault that will drop into a thirty-story pit if it is accessed without permission.”

“It was featured in last month’s Security Systems Magazine. Everything is state-of-the-art,” Duncan said.

“Only you would read something called Security Systems Magazine,” Matilda said, grinning at Duncan.

He shrugged. “What I’m saying is it would take a genius to rob it.”

“Unfortunately, Choppers is a genius,” Agent Brand said gruffly. “You’re going to have to be smarter than he is.”

“Does anyone else feel like all of this doesn’t add up?” Ruby said.

“Do you have concerns, Pufferfish?” Brand asked.

“As you know, I’m allergic to fish. I’m also allergic to things that feel fishy. My feet are swollen and my throat is scratchy, so I know something is not right. Why would Simon try to rob the world’s most robbery-proof bank, in the heart of an international city, on a busy street, when he knows we are watching him?”

Duncan said, “I have been wondering the same thing.”

Brand shook his head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. Simon. . . Heathcliff. . . Choppers—whatever his name is—he’s unpredictable and dangerous. If I could send some more seasoned agents—”

“More seasoned agents?” Ruby cried. The rest of the team grumbled their protest.

“Enough!” Brand shouted. “All I’m saying is this boy used to be your friend and he may try to use that to his advantage. But remember, he is not your friend anymore. I think last year’s events prove he shouldn’t be taken lightly. When you get inside the bank, keep your eyes open for a trap. Keep an eye on your partners, too. I can’t lose another one of you.”

“We’re over the drop,” the lunch lady shouted from the cockpit. “If you’re near a butcher, pick me up some haggis. I think the students will love it.”

Ms. Holiday opened a compartment and removed five different colored jackets. She gave one to each of them.

“What’s this?” Jackson asked.

“These are the LX-919 Wind Breakers. They’re the latest in parachute technology. Unlike a regular parachute, the Wind Breaker doesn’t require careful packing. Once you hit two thousand feet, the jacket expands to capture the air below you. You’ll float like a feather and there’s no tracking down the parachute and storing it once you’ve landed. It collapses back into a jacket on the ground.”

Duncan’s eyes grew big with wonder. “Wow!”

Flinch laughed. “Gluestick loves his gadgets.”

“The Wind Breaker will also keep you warm in high altitudes. The wind can be pretty brisk off those Highlands,” Ms. Holiday said to the children. “I don’t want my sweethearts to freeze.”

“Sweethearts?” Matilda muttered.

Ms. Holiday blushed. The librarian had a motherly quality with the children she could barely control. “I mean ‘agents.’”

Flinch grinned and winked at her. “I’ll be your sweetheart.”

Jackson slid into his Wind Breaker. “Are you sure about this thing? I have a problem with falling to my death. It’s not in my job description.”

“These are better than any parachutes,” Ms. Holiday assured him. “Once you get to a thousand feet above the ground, just pull the strings at the bottom of the jacket and you will activate the air-to-ground tether.”

“‘Air-to-ground tether’ does not sound better to me than ‘nice, big parachute,’” Jackson argued.

“C’mon, Braceface, parachutes are so last week,” Duncan said as he clapped his hands. He couldn’t wait to give the new gadget a try.

While the children put on their gear, Agent Brand popped open the hatch and wind blasted into the ship.

“Pufferfish, as always, you lead this mission,” Brand shouted over the din. “Keep an eye on all movement from the roof of the bank and use the rest of the team’s abilities to find and arrest Heathcliff. Be careful! The rest of you, look out for one another!”

“As good as done, sir,” Ruby said.

“Any words of encouragement for our heroes, Mr. Brand?” Ms. Holiday asked.

Brand frowned. Duncan knew the man wasn’t the type to give pep talks or sappy speeches. He hardly talked at all, despite Ms. Holiday’s constant efforts to get him to warm to the children.

He grunted and scowled and finally said, “Don’t get killed.”

“Well, I’m inspired,” Matilda said. Then she leaped out of the door into the wide blue sky. Flinch was next, shouting, “Cannonball!” as he went. Ruby took her turn, followed by Jackson, who used his last moments on board to plead with Ms. Holiday for a real parachute. Duncan was last.

“Gluestick, I know Heathcliff and you were close,” Brand said. “But use your head. He’s the enemy now.”

“Of course, sir,” Duncan replied, pushing any concern from his mind. “I know my job. We’ll stop him.”

He leaped out into the sky, feeling the wind swim around his body. Gravity pulled him downward, faster and faster. He could see his teammates far below—tiny black specks dropping like rain. Suddenly, he heard a ping inside his head, followed by Ruby’s voice. She had activated the communications system implanted in each of their noses, the one that made them sneeze when they were summoned to the Playground. “Here’s the plan, people—Wheezer and Braceface, you are on crowd control inside the bank. The police believe there may be anywhere from ninety to a hundred people inside. Please be careful. Try to use your abilities as little as possible in front of hostages. It’s hard to be a secret agent if the secret is out. Flinch, you’re going to get us inside.”

“How?” Flinch’s voice said.

“You are going to karate chop the building.”

“Awesome sauce!” he cried. “I’ll start eating some candy now to power up.”

“Gluestick, you’re our fly on the wall. I want you crawling on the ceiling, staying out of sight and looking for our target. You know standard protocol. If you spot Simon, don’t engage him until one of us can help. I’ll be on the roof, scanning the building and feeding all of you information. As always, stay in constant contact with one another.”

“Um, I’m a little worried about my Wind Breaker,” Jackson said. “It looked like a jacket and so far it’s acting like one too.”

“Keep your mouth shut, quarterback, or you’ll miss it,” Matilda replied.

“Miss what?”

“The moment we break the sound barrier.” Matilda giggled. There was a tremendous sonic boom in the sky and suddenly the ground was flying toward them at an amazing speed. Duncan’s Wind Breaker expanded, catching the air inside and slowing his descent as if he were a dandelion seed floating in the wind.

“These things are pretty neat, huh?” Duncan said.

“Yeah, real neat. I think I lost my lunch twenty thousand feet ago,” Jackson groaned.

“I liked it better when we were going faster,” Flinch cheered. He reached into his pocket and took out a bottle of energy drink. He guzzled it, then looked at the can as if he might eat it.

“We’re approaching a thousand feet,” Ruby chimed in. “Prepare to pull your tether chords.”

“Nineteen hundred,” Matilda said.

“Eighteen hundred,” Duncan replied. “It would be best if we linked arms.”

The children had all had skydiving training and had performed hundreds of tandem and single jumps. They knew how to maneuver in the sky, so with a few simple body adjustments they formed a circle and linked arms.

“Now try to point your feet toward the ground,” Duncan instructed.

“Seventeen hundred feet,” Jackson said.

Duncan looked below. He could see a busy commercial district and a series of intertwining roads weaving like worms in all directions.

“Sixteen hundred feet,” said Matilda.

“Get ready, people,” Ruby ordered.

“Um, what if these don’t work?” Jackson said.

“Then we go splat!” Flinch cried, breaking into a giggle.

“Fifteen hundred feet. . . fourteen hundred feet. . . thirteen hundred feet. . . twelve hundred feet. . . eleven hundred feet. . . OK, folks, let’s activate the tethers,” cried Ruby.

The children reached down and yanked on the cords around the bottoms of their jackets. Duncan immediately felt something rocket out of his jacket. When he looked down he saw it was a cable that spiraled to the top of a building directly beneath them. It slammed into the roof like an arrow and suddenly the cable stiffened into something as hard as a fireman’s pole. Duncan snatched the cable, sliding down it until his feet were on the top of the Royal Bank of Scotland. His Wind Breaker returned to its jacket form and the cable slackened back into a rope.

Flinch was the second to land on the bank. Jackson was next. Then Ruby. Matilda took a bad landing and nearly skidded off the top of the roof, but Duncan snatched her by the arm and held her fast.

“Thanks, I owe you,” Matilda said as her jacket retracted.

“Not a problem,” Duncan said.

Ruby set up her laptop. The screen came to life. “OK, I’m linked in and pulling up the schematics of the bank. Looks as if there are three levels. The second floor is mostly offices, the ground floor is where the tellers are, and the basement is a deep shaft going down thirty feet. Gluestick was right. If you mess with that vault, you better have a shovel. Satellite heat scans are showing that the customers are lying on the floor and there is a figure moving about the bank.”

“How do we get in?” Jackson asked as he pulled off his Wind Breaker.

“That’s the spaz’s job,” Ruby said, gesturing to Flinch.

Flinch grinned and shoved three chocolate bars into his mouth at once. He chewed greedily and swallowed. Duncan watched as a blue light shone out of Flinch’s harness. His hyperactivity was fueling it—making him superstrong. “I am mighty!” the boy roared, beating on his chest.

“He’s ready,” Jackson said.

Flinch leaned down and karate chopped the rooftop with his bare hand. There was a crack and a giant chunk of the roof fell inward, sending up a cloud of dust and debris.

“Subtle,” Matilda said.

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “Get in there, Wheezer.”

Matilda fired her inhalers and zipped straight up into the air. When she turned them off, she dropped like a rock into the hole. Duncan watched her fire them up at the last second so she hovered safely just above the floor. Flinch leaped in too, landing on his feet as nimbly as a cat.

“Looks like I’m next,” Jackson said as his obnoxious braces swirled inside his mouth. Soon, a huge, spindly pair of legs made from his dental gear came out of his mouth and lowered him inside.

“All right, Gluestick, you’re up. Search the rooms and report back what you see. Once you’ve found Heathcliff, I’ll send the others to find you. No heroics, OK? I want to take him as a team.”

Duncan kicked off his shoes and got onto his hands and knees. He crawled into the hole. With his sticky toes and fingertips, he felt for the ceiling, then clung to it as he scuttled inside the bank. He raced across the ceiling, moving cautiously from doorway to doorway down the long corridor. After a few minutes of searching, he reported back to Ruby, “There’s no one on the second floor.”

Ruby’s voice was in his ears. “Good. Move down to the first floor.”

Duncan tiptoed down a flight of stairs, then ran up a wall until he was once again upside-down. He came to an open door that led to the bank lobby and crawled inside. He saw the customers Ruby had warned him about. A hundred or so people were lying facedown, their hands on their heads. Some were quietly crying and a few looked as if they might be sick. A beefy guard in a green kilt was handcuffed to a heavy desk and couldn’t move. But what was most troubling to Duncan wasn’t the hostages. It was the squirrels. A dozen or so stood over the cowering people like tiny rodent sentries. A few more were dragging bags of money toward the bank entrance and stacking them by the door. More were rifling through wallets and stealing jewelry right off the fingers of the terrified victims. Duncan had seen a lot of strange things in his life, especially since becoming a spy, but this was the strangest.

“Gluestick, report please,” Ruby’s voice demanded.

“I’ve got squirrels,” he whispered. “They’re all over the place.”

“Yes, Brand mentioned them. How many of them are there?”

“Maybe thirty. Maybe more.”

“Any sign of Simon?” Ruby asked.

Duncan glanced around the room. “No, he’s not in the main room. There are some small offices off to the—wait, I hear shouting. Hang on.”

Duncan followed the noise and soon found the manager’s office. A plump woman in a smart suit was cowering on the floor. She had bright red hair and freckles.

“Do what ye want but ye willnae get into the vault,” she cried in her thick Scottish accent. “Even if I gave ye the codes, ye need two other managers to open the door and they are currently on holiday. Just take what ye have and go.”

Duncan could not see Simon, but he could see what looked like a ray gun from a science fiction movie pointed at the manager.

“Simon’s got some kind of weapon aimed at the manager,” Duncan whispered. “I’m not close enough to guess what it does. Can you scan it?”

“I can see it, but whatever it is, it seems to be jamming the satellites,” Ruby said. “Stay put. The bank manager is in danger. I’m sending for the team.”

“I don’t need you to give me the codes,” a voice said from within the room. Duncan was startled. What he heard was not Simon’s voice. In fact, it sounded like the voice of a full-grown man. “The computer will give them to me.”

The mysterious unseen man pointed his weapon at the manager’s computer and pulled the trigger. At once the screen went berserk. Numbers and letters did a nervous dance across the monitor. The machine chirped and beeped and then Duncan could see the door to the vault slowly open.

“How did ye do that?” the manager cried.

“That would be telling. Squirrels!” the man shouted, and before Duncan could react, a sea of furry criminals raced into the room. He watched as they zipped into the vault with their sacks, filling them to the brim with cash, bonds, and jewelry, and then dragged their loot back into the main room with the rest.

“Pufferfish, whoever this is, it isn’t Heathcliff. It’s some old dude and he’s fired his weapon,” Duncan whispered. “It seems to be affecting the computer. He’s got the door of the vault open now.”

He didn’t get a response. All he could hear was an odd static sound. “Please advise. Pufferfish, are you there? Pufferfish, come in.” Still there was no answer. Duncan decided to move closer. Suddenly, he felt very ill. His stomach churned and his face felt hot. His hands and feet were itchy, and before he knew what had happened, his fingers and toes lost their grip on the ceiling. He fell to the floor, where he lay at the feet of a strange, overweight man in a black-and-green outfit.

“The boss warned me about you,” the man said nervously. Duncan had never met a villain with such lack of confidence. “I guess if you’re here then the others are on their way. Squirrels, get what you can. We have to go!”

“Who are you?” Duncan asked as he tried to stand. He could make out red eyebrows and a freckled face behind the mask, but not much else.

“Captain Just—you know what, it doesn’t matter who I am,” the man said.

He shooed his furry cohorts out the door and followed them, keeping his ray gun aimed at Duncan the whole time. Duncan wanted to glue the man to the wall behind him, but he couldn’t seem to activate the adhesives on his hands properly. The ability would work for a moment and then it would vanish just as quickly.