Ultiman hovered three inches off of the floor. It was a nervous habit of his, which had the added benefit of making anybody near him feel just as nervous as he did. People tended to fear floating men. Especially floating men who could shoot beams from their eyes and snap tanks in half over their knees. So Ultiman tried to stay on the ground as much as possible. People liked a grounded hero. For the moment though he was alone, and so he allowed himself to hover, just a bit. He was nervous, how could he not be. The world had been taken over by supervillains, and it may as well have been his fault.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he muttered to himself, another nervous habit of his.
“There was nothing you could have done, so you left. You knew whomever was left would need a leader and so you retreated. It was the smart move. It was the only move,” he said forcefully trying to convince himself. It didn’t work, and not for the first time, he was thankful that the only person he seemed to have to convince was himself. The other heroes, those who had managed to escape the supervillain attacks across the world and the eruption of hellfire outside of How To Hero headquarters had been thankful to see him. They’d been happy he’d run away when he did. The heroes who had been captured, Cowboy Rockstar, Cannonballer: Baller of Cannons, and so many others, might have a different opinion though. But he’d done what he’d done, made the choices he’d made, and hopefully history would vindicate them. Hopefully he’d actually be able to lead the ragtag Resistance that had formed to save the world. Hopefully he was up for it.
Ultiman looked around the room he was in, if only to take his mind off of the challenges that lay ahead of him. He was in the Haberdashery, one of the many satellite hideouts Hatman maintained in cities with large superhuman presences. Specifically, he was in a room called the Hall of Hats. The room’s walls were covered with hooks and on those hooks were dozens of hats that were, ostensibly, worthy of being enshrined in a hall. Ultiman floated over to one of them, a cowboy hat made out of black velvet with the name “Winston” glued onto it in silver sequins. Ultiman looked below it and read the description: “‘Hat worn by Winston Churchill at his stag party’ There’s no way that’s true.”
Ultiman quickly landed and spun around.
“Hatman, I didn’t hear you come in.”
The other man frowned and folded his arms across the yellow tophat insignia that was emblazoned onto his chest, “As pleased as I am that I managed to sneak up on you, you seem distracted.”
“I suppose not, they’re all in the other room. Waiting for you.”
“Waiting to hear my big plan.”
“Waiting for you. You’re the symbol U. The platonic ideal of superheroism. The-”
“The ultimate man. I get that you’re nervous, a supervillain takeover of this magnitude has never had so much success. Smuggles has somehow managed to do what nobody else has ever been able to. He’s taken the entire world by surprise. We’re scattered, most of our people are captured or missing. He’s put the heroes on defensive. He’s managed to unite every supervillain in the world. He’s managed to ally himself with the forces of Hell.”
“You sound like you’re impressed.”
“By all measures it’s very impressive stuff.”
Ultiman smirked, “Maybe we’ll be able to get you one of his hats.”
Hatman looked him dead in the eye, “I would love that.”
Ultiman laughed for the first time since he’d flown away from How to Hero Headquarters. It felt good. It felt unearned.
Hatman didn’t even crack a smile, “Shall we go in there?”
“I’ll meet you out there in a second.”
Hatman shrugged and then left him.
“All right Ultiman, game time. Show time. Give them the Ultiman they’re expecting. Give them the symbol.”
With a deep breath, he walked out of the Hall of Hats and into a large dining room. Why one would need a large dining room in their hideout Ultiman wasn’t sure, but he took his place at the head of the ornate table in the center of the room anyhow. He quickly scanned the room. He recognized several of the heroes sitting around the table and nodded at them. To his right was Professor Paleontologist who smiled at him reassuringly. There were other heroes, heroes he was ashamed to say he didn’t recognize scattered around the room, along with a few support-team types. Gael, director of G.U.Y. I.N. T.H.E. C.H.A.I.R. was there, scrolling on his smartphone, absorbing information like a sponge. Two of the How To Hero guys were there too, Ultiman didn’t know their real names but he recalled they went by Parenthetical Guy and Curly. Parenthetical Guy was trying to squeeze a collapsible lawn chair in between ‘Earo and Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man at the conference table.
(“Why do you even need to sit at the big table, you have super hearing, you could be on the moon and you’d still be able to hear!”)
Curly was standing in the corner chatting Hatman’s ear off as the hero tried to sink into the shadows, as was his custom at large meetings, even those held in his own hideout.
Ultiman smiled wryly and clapped his hands together, taking care not to accidentally create a sonic boom with the force of it. Instantly everybody stopped talking and every head in the room turned towards him, with the exception of Gael whose eyes were still glued to his phone.
“I think it’s time we began,” Ultiman said, double checking that his feet were on the ground.
“I won’t lie to you, we’re in trouble,” Ultiman started simply. “Big trouble, unprecedented trouble. But that’s just a day in the life right?”
There were a few scattered chuckles.
“What’s important to remember though, is that this is not insurmountable trouble. We’re down but we’re not out. In this room I see a few dozen people who want to make a change and believe they can do so. A few dozen people who still have hope. And hope is a powerful thing. It might be the greatest power we have right now. As we speak Smuggles and his Crime Consortium are sitting pretty in How To Hero headquarters. Hundreds of our comrades are languishing who knows where. World leaders are missing. Military bases have been taken over by armies of the damned. The rest of the galaxy waits on bated breath to see if Earth’s heroes are up to snuff. To see if we have what it takes to put the world back together again. It won’t be easy, but none of us would be here, none of us would do this job, if we cared about easy. I don’t know about the rest of you, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had easy and I’m still here. I’m still standing. And so are the rest of you. So let’s show Smuggles and the Fish Whisperer, and Marconi and the Skeleton King and-”
“And Zeus,” Gael chirped from his seat.
“Zeus, lord of the skies, king of the Greek gods. He’s just endorsed Smuggles. Apparently he thinks it’s hilarious that Greg the Skeleton King has deposed the rest of the rulers of Hell, his brother, Hades, among them of course.”
“Ah,” Ultiman said. “Thank you Gael.”
He took a moment to recompose himself, “And Zeus too then. Add him to the list of people we’ll have to fight to save the Earth. That’s fine. Who cares. We’re heroes, and saving the world is what we do.”
“Let’s show them what we’re made of!”
(“I’m telling you, I’m important I should really be at the table for this. What if someone takes a picture of this historic moment. People are going to think its weird if I’m not in the picture.”)
Ultiman held up his hand and the chatter stopped. “Now, before we can take the fight to the villains there are a few things we need to take care of. Hatma- Where’s Hatman?”
“He left? What do you mean he left?”
“While I was speaking? While I was speaking just now? But that’s so rude. Wow.”
Ultiman shook his head, “Whatever, do you mind going after him?”
{“You got it chief! I’ll just go put on my costume.”}
Ultiman tilted his head, “I don’t think that’s necessary. I just need you to step outside and grab him for a minute.”
“All right then. Hatman knows what to do I’m sure.”
(“What if I just sat on your lap? Come on, you’re a cyborg, you won’t even feel it.”)
Ultiman turned to Professor Paleontologist, “Professor, as you can see we’re a little light-handed. While it’s possible we’re all that’s left of Earth’s defenders I’m inclined to believe, to hope, that there are others out there. Why don’t you see if you can gather some allies for us.”
Professor Paleontologist, “It would be my pleasure sir. I believe I know just where to look.”
“Excellent, and why don’t you take him with you,” Ultiman said pointing to Parenthetical Guy, who was now talking to the superhero Yellowjacket.
(“Come on, there’s literally no way you deserve a seat at this table more than me, at least just scoot down a little bit.”)
Professor Paleontologist tugged at his collar, “Well, sir, I don’t know if that’s the best idea. I’m happy to take somebody else if you want me to go with a partner.”
“Parenthetical Guy!” Ultiman shouted drawing the gangly man’s attention.
(“Yo what’s up big guy?”)
“I’ve got a mission for you, go with Professor Paleontologist. He’ll explain it.”
(“Aw man, Professor Paleontologist? Do I gotta?”)
(“All right, fine. Let’s go PP, I’m not getting any younger.”)
Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes but joined Parenthetical Guy by the door. Ultiman heard a collective sigh of relief when they left the room.
Ultiman took stock of who was left. His two biggest names had just left, and all that remained now were the second-stringers and the also rans, but that didn’t matter. Ultiman meant what he said before, he believed that the motley crew in front of him could mean the difference for humanity. And a leader is nothing if they don’t believe in their troops.
“Now,” Ultiman said. “Let’s talk strategy.”
“So, Ultiman says we need allies. Luckily I have a colleague in-”
(“Blah blah blah. Trust me, when Ultiman asked us to gather super cool allies to help us take back the world I’m sure he didn’t mean any colleagues of yours.”)
Professor Paleontologist arched an eyebrow, “I suppose you have someone in mind?”
(“As a matter of fact I do!”) Parenthesis Guy shouted, pulling out his cellphone.
“I wasn’t aware you had superpowered associates,” Professor Paleontologist said. “Or associates at all outside your merry band of bloggers.”
(“What was that a joke? I didn’t think they had jokes in the Paleozoic Era.”)
“Actually, there were no dinosaurs in the Paleo-”
(“Oh my god I’m not doing this right now.”)
Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes, he’d been superheroing for a long time. Longer than Ultiman or Hatman or Cowboy Rockstar or many of the other big named heroes, and yet still this is what he was reduced to. A glorified babysitter for a hyperactive manchild. Of course, he knew what he was doing was important; as it stood, the Resistance didn’t quite have the manpower that would be necessary to take back the world. Yet he still couldn’t help but feel a little bit insulted. Even Smuggles’ Consortium of Crime hadn’t even bothered to attack to him when the villains took over. The villain Professor Paleontologist had been working with, Chives, a 50-foot tall vampire stegosaurus, had simply grabbed the other hero on their team, the robot warrior BiteLock and ran off, leaving Professor Paleontologist alone. When even the villains who are in the process of taking over the world don’t want anything to do with you, well, that says something doesn’t it?
“We do this to help people, not to be recognized,” Professor Paleontologist muttered to himself.
(“What was that?”) Parenthetical Guy said.
“Nothing. You said you had some leads?”
(“As a matter of fact I do!”) Parenthetical Guy declared and then held up his phone to Professor Paleontologist.
“Ethynda Goodwitch?” Professor Paleontologist read.
(“Our very own local village mystic!”) Parenthetical Guy exclaimed. (“She can use all her cool magic and witchcraft to send Smuggles straight to hell or whatever.”)
“Smuggles is allied with Hell, remember? And correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Ethynda hate you and everyone else from How To Hero? I can’t imagine she’d offer up her services if literally the most obnoxious one of you showed up at her door.”
(“Gosh I don’t even have the time to tell you everything that was wrong with that.”)
“Great! So why don’t we-”
(“Smuggles is allied with one of the lords of Hell, and I’m sure in doing so he’s managed to alienate a fair few other ones. Secondly, Ethynda used to hate How To Hero, on account of the fact that we recommended that every would be superhero in a 100 mile radius try blackmailing her into giving her powers in our very first post.”)
“Yes you lot made a rather strong impression on the magic community at large that day.”
(“But I have to imagine she doesn’t hate us all that much seeing as she has never, not even once, rained magical destruction and chaos down upon us. Like I’ll admit she was one of my top suspects for the whole anonymous bombing thing last year, but now that we know that was Smuggles I’m more sure than ever that she and I are actually really great friends and she’s a big fan of our blog.”)
“Blackmail notwithstanding I imagine.”
(“Blackmail definitelywithstanding Professor!”)
“Very well, how do we find this-”
(“Thirdly I am far from the most obnoxious How To Hero member. That’s definitely Curly
or maybe Dr. Brainwave’s Greatest Shame a giant monster who eats people, which is pretty obnoxious.”)
(“Fourthly, Ethynda doesn’t even have a door, she lives in a cave on a mountain.”)
Professor Paleontologist folded his arms and waited patiently.
“Excellent. Now, how do we get to this magical mountain cave?”
(“We’ll take the teleporter, good thing Half-Face McGee was captured right? There’s no
way he’d let us use that thing.”)
Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes. “Ok, so where did you leave your teleport pad?”
(“Oh, we’ve been standing on it this whole time,”) and with that, he pulled out a remote control from his pocket and clicked a button.
Hatman pressed up against the alley wall as a trio of supervillains strolled past. Another patrol, Smuggles must have noticed that a few heroes had escaped him and had sent out his villainous lackeys to find and capture any superheroic stragglers. The only people he’d seen so far had been villains. No civilians, the people of Clifftown must have all been hiding out in their homes. No heroes either, which didn’t fill Hatman with confidence. He had hoped to find others out here, but it seemed like the skeleton crew hiding out in the Haberdashery was everybody that was left. No matter, he’d faced down worse odds. Hatman checked the secure communicator in his gizmo-packed gauntlet. Still no messages. That was probably a bad sign. When Smuggles had launched his take over, and the villains had all simultaneously betrayed and subdued the heroes they were working with, Hatman had been in the middle of a frozen bay with the villain Friar Frostbite. Even Hatman wasn’t above admitting that the situation had been dire. Friar Frostbite had the element of surprise, a cryo-gun, and a distinct home field advantage. According to some, it was only the timely arrival of Hurricane Hank, and Hatman’s bitterest non-supervillain rival, Glassesman, fresh from dispelling a sharknado, that allowed Hatman to prevail over his bitterest supervillain rival. According to Hatman, he would’ve been fine either way. After all, he’d fitted his gauntlets with superheaters specifically to deprive Friar Frostbite of any icy cold advantages he might possess. Still, the extra hands certainly allowed for things to be taken care of more quickly and within seconds Friar Frostbite was down for the count. Which presented Hatman with an incredible opportunity. Aboard Glassesman’s aviator-goggles shaped cargo plane, the trio of heroes had stripped Friar Frostbite of his costume, which helpfully included an insulated ski-mask, and his weaponry. Glassesman then assumed Friar Frostbite’s identity and flew his plane back to How To Hero headquarters, which had, by that point, become the seat of Smuggles’s power, while Hurricane Hank flew Hatman and Friar Frostbite to the Haberdashery. Since then, Glassesman had been providing Hatman with information over a secure network. Troop movements, supplies inventory, a roster of Smuggles’s known associates. Valuable information that the Resistance could use to topple Smuggles’s regime. And information that was specifically useful for Hatman, who had taken it upon himself to sabotage as many of Smuggles’s operations while Ultiman and the others developed a plan of attack. But the messages had stopped. Which probably meant that Glassesman had been found out.
Typical Glassesman, Hatman thought as he removed the gauntlet and tossed it in a dumpster, it was a tremendous waste of resources, but he couldn’t risk Smuggles’s people figuring out how to trace the messages Glassesman had been sending back to him. He’d be sure to send Glassesman a bill for all of the exorbitantly expensive proprietary super-tech the gauntlet possessed. That guy can’t do anything right.
In one swift movement, Hatman unclipped a pocket on his utility belt, pulled the miniature top hat out of it and spun around on his heel, the tophat growing to full size as he did so.
{“Whoa whoa! It’s just me, Curly! Don’t point your… shrinking top hat? At me”} Curly shouted, waving his empty hands in front of him.
The short, round, goateed man was sitting upon a dumpster, dangling his legs over the edge.
Hatman narrowed his eyes and returned the tophat to his belt. Curly watched as it shrunk to fit back in its tiny compartment.
“It’s a magical top hat, it was a gift from a wizard.”
{“Do bunnies come out of it?”}
“Among other things. What are you doing here?”
{“Ultiman sent me after you, you left the meeting kind of abruptly.”}
“I didn’t see any need to remain there. I could be of better use to the Resistance out here on the streets.”
{“Well what are you doing out here that’s so important?”}
“Yes, it’s the most important thing in a time like this. Let Ultiman plan his full frontal assaults and face to face confrontations. I’ll happily take control of the more shadowy parts of this resistance.”
{“Ooh shadowy stuff. Count me in.”}
{“388 different Hatboys beg to differ.”}
{“Also, like, we’ve already worked together. I was a Hatboy at one point remember?”}
{“That’s how I snuck up on you just now. You trained me. I was Hatboy #283.”}
Hatman just shrugged, “I’m sure you understand that I can’t possibly remember every Hatboy that has worked under me. My thoughts are better occupied by coming up with new ways to fight crime and new designs for hat-themed vehicles.”
Curly frowned, {“You seriously don’t remember when we worked together?”}
“You’re seriously still talking about that? If you want to help that’s fine, but come on we’ve got work to do.”
Beneath the reflective lenses in his top hat shaped cowl, Hatman rolled his eyes. This Curly wasn’t the type he usually worked with. He asked a few too many questions. Hatman knew what he needed to do. He needed to inspire. Awe, respect, maybe even some fear, he’d have to see how the night went. In pursuit of this Hatman struck his most imposing and superheroic pose. He looked off into the distance, a look of steely resolve taking over his chiseled features. He put his hands on his hips and lowered his voice an octave.
“We,” he paused here, an age old trick to make civilians and sidekicks hang on your every word. “Need to steal a truck.”
A moment of silence passed between the duo and Hatman was sure Curly would follow his lead unquestionably from now on. These wannabe heroes were always so easy to manipulate.
{“Oh you’re done. So is that just any truck or…”}
Hatman was jolted from his self-indulgent reverie. Apparently it would take more than dynamic posing and vague statements to bring this one in line.
“No! A specific truck. If we just steal any truck that makes us no better than these repulsive villains.”
{“It’s just that all you said was the word ‘truck’ and then you just stopped talking like I was supposed to understand what you meant. You should really try incorporating specific articles into your speech like ‘we need to steal that truck’ or ‘we need to steal the truck that drives by this alleyway every Thursday at 2:30 pm’ or ‘we need to steal the truck that drives down my block every night making a whole lot of noise even though there are signs specifically prohibiting such trucks from driving down my purely residential block.’”}
“Supply trucks drive through Clifftown every day carrying everything from valuables to essentials to How to Hero headquarters. We need to intercept and hijack one of them.”
Curly hopped off of the dumpster and smacked Hatman on the back.
{“See! Was that all that hard? So where do we find one of these trucks?”}
“According to my observations, one should be rolling by this alley in ten minutes.”
{“Great! So what do we need to do?”}
{“You can’t think that’s what I meant.”}
“I’ve learned never to overestimate the intelligence of a prospective Hatboy.”
{“Prospective? I literally was Hatboy! I’m one of the few surviving ones! I’m wearing the utility belt you gave me right now!”}
“You’re wearing a belt? Perfect. Tell me, do you know how to drive a truck?”
{“I’m legally not allowed to drive one but I guess?”}
Hatman checked the time readout on his remaining gauntlet.
“That’ll have to do,” he said as extracted a grappling hook from his own belt and looped the hook around Curly’s belt.
{“What’s happening right now.”}
“Like I said,” Hatman said as he ran to the entrance of the alleyway. “We’re going to steal a truck.”
In a flash of light Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy appeared in front of a gaping cave. Parenthetical Guy quickly turned around and emptied the contents of his stomach.
(“Gosh, every time,”) he said, wheezing.
“I’m sure throwing up on her doorstep will ingratiate you with Ethynda even more,” Professor Paleontologist said as he stepped off of the teleport pad and examined the entrance of the cave. “So do we just walk right in or?”
Suddenly, two large rocks at the entrance of the cave shuddered and started to roll towards our two heroes.
(“Have you ever visited a magical lair before?”) Parenthetical Guy said as he brushed off his pants and held up his fists. (“First you have to fight off the magical guardians and then you just walk right in.”)
Professor Paleontologist instinctively reached for the bright red amulet that hung over his chest. The boulders had now sprouted limbs and Professor Paleontologist didn’t think their four fists would be quite enough to overpower them.
“Well I wish you would’ve mentioned that before we teleported here,” Professor Paleontologist said.
(“Yeah well I wish that Rockblock were here so he could reason with these rock monsters. Or maybe seduce them or something. Side salad, do you think Rockblock is considered attractive? Like by golem standards I mean.”)
Professor Paleontologist didn’t answer. He was clutching his amulet now and, mentally, reaching backwards in time. The magical amulet had been gifted to him by a council of ghostly dinosaurs nearly two decades ago, and it allowed him to draw dinosaurs from the far flung past into the present so that he could use their unique gifts and abilities to fight the forces of evil. It was a tremendous honor and responsibility to wield such a powerful weapon and it was one that the Professor took very seriously. He had studied up on time travel and chaos theory and he was well aware of the incalculable ill effects that could result from wonton time travel, and so he very rarely used his incredible powers to their fullest extent. Instead he used his amulet primarily to confer with the great spirits that had gifted it to him in the first place. In essence, whenever he was struck with an especially difficult problem he gave himself a moment to consider, and ask, what would a dinosaur do. In this moment several of the departed dinos were snarling at him to either sacrifice his puking partner, or bring in some real firepower. One though, a ghosty compsognathus, presented him with a different, somewhat more elegant solution. The compsognathus, made famous by the blockbuster hit, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, were tiny dinosaurs, no larger than the modern day chicken, and not the freakishly huge ones that have set up camp in the Grand Canyon in recent years, regular chickens. They didn’t have the bite or size of other dinosaurs, but they learned how to use their small stature to their advantage. The compy told Professor Paleontologist what it would do in this situation, and the Professor thanked it, and all the other spirits, before releasing his hold on his amulet.
All of this occurred in a fraction of a second.
(“Like, let’s say Rockblock had the normal amount of arms and everything and had like, skin, he’d be undeniably attractive then right? I feel like that’s not really up for debate. So I guess what I’m really asking is if golems find the same qualities attractive that humans do. Does that make se-”)
“Get the left one’s attention and then follow me,” Professor Paleontologist said, finally cutting Parenthetical Guy off, much to the rock monsters’, and Parenthetical Guy’s, great relief.
(“Get the attention of the hulking rock monster that is already fully focused on destroying us? You got it, but only because I think it’s a terrible idea and want my death to haunt your conscience for the rest of your stupid life.”)
Parenthetical Guy scooped some pebbles off of the ground and held them aloft towards the rock monster was bearing down on him. (“Watch your step big boy, or these pebbles get it!”)
The rock monster snorted and lifted up its giant fist.
(“Ok that didn’t work,”) Parenthetical guy blinked and then tossed the handful of pebbles at the rock monster and began running in the opposite direction.
“Follow me!” Professor Paleontologist shouted as he began running directly towards the other rock monster.
(“This is actually the worst plan!”) Parenthetical Guy complained as he dutifully followed.
Professor Paleontologist led his hapless partner and the towering mountainous man that followed him towards the other rock monster who slowly raised its own fists and howled in rage, seemingly more at the Professor’s audacity that anything else. As the two interlopers neared the howling golem Professor Paleontologist shouted, “Slide!” and then collapsed into a flawless baseball player’s third base slide, deftly maneuvering right between the angry monster’s legs. Once he was through the monster’s legs, he quickly popped back up onto his feet and took off running towards the cave’s entrance, stopping just long enough to make sure Parenthetical Guy had made it through as well before the monster had punched a crater into the Earth. He had, but not nearly as gracefully and Professor Paleontologist saw him spitting rocks out of his mouth that he had accidentally ingested when he dove and face planted into the ground.
“Keep moving!” Professor Paleontologist shouted, “We need to make sure we’re clear!”
(“Clear of what?”) Parenthetical Man shouted indignantly before he was flung off his feet
again by a tremendous boom. The two rock monsters had collided sending a shower of smaller stones hurtling in every direction.
Professor Paleontologist grabbed Parenthetical Guy and wrenched him clear from any of the larger rock chunks.
As it would turn out, Professor Paleontologist’s plan had not worked. Rather than destroying both rock monsters, their speedy collision had actually caused the monsters to merge somewhat. Now instead of fighting two rock monsters, they were facing a royally ticked off two-headed rock monster. It was a little bit better, but not much.
“Oh this is bad,” Professor Paleontologist said dejectedly as he reached for his amulet once more.
(“Oh this is perfect!”) Parenthetical Guy said as he reached for his remote control, and Professor Paleontologist was surprised not to hear even an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.
Parenthetical Guy winked at the professor and then pointed his remote control at the giant two-headed monstrous monolith. In a flash it, and the teleport pad it had inadvertently landed on following its amalgamation, disappeared. Professor Paleontologist blinked wordlessly.
(“Handled!”) Parenthetical Guy shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
“I- I guess you did, wow.”
(“No need to thank me Prof, I’m just doing what heroes and vitally important resistance fighters do.”)
(“The moon, they’ll be fine. Rock monsters don’t need to breathe. Don’t worry about climbing down this ridiculously high mountain, Ethynda will just teleport us back to headquarters once she agrees to join us.”)
“Well, I guess we should go in then.”
Parenthetical Guy smiled widely and then walked into the cave. Or, rather, he walked in the magical force field that protected the cave’s entrance.
(“Oh come on Ethynda! We fought your guardians, I think we at least deserve a conversation!”)
“Deserve?” a shrill voice cackled from within the cave. “The only thing you deserve is a swift kick in the behind as far as I’m concerned.”
Professor Paleontologist braced himself for another fight as he watched a young woman in a bright green tracksuit walk out of the cave, a black cat followed her, eyeing the two intruders through slitted yellow eyes. Or, Professor Paleontologist could have sworn, eyeing his amulet in particular.
(“Ethynda! Darling! How have you been?”) Parenthetical Guy held his arms open, as though he expected the witch to give him a hug.
“You! How dare you show your parenthetical personage at my sanctum. I have half a mind to strike you down where you stand right now,” Ethynda’s eyes started to glow an unnatural green and her clenched fists burst into green flames.
Professor Paleontologist didn’t like the sound of that, but, to everybody’s consternation Parenthetical Guy didn’t seem all that concerned.
(“No need! Love your energy though. Love the spunk. Sublime spunk, wouldn’t you say so Prof?”)
Professor Paleontologist gave him a sidelong glance and then held up his hands as if to say “please do not involve me in whatever it is that you’re doing you fast talking imbecile.”
(“Now, Ethy, hows about you channel that sublime rage against a smuggler and a man who whispers to fish? I really do feel like that would be a far better use of your time. Don’t you?”)
Ethynda’s eyes reverted to their normal color and the flames around her hands dissipated. Professor Paleontologist let out a breath he’d been holding but kept his hands near his amulet.
“You’ve come to me for… help?”
(“Why of course! You’re only one of my dearest friends! And the world’s in trouble. We can use a powerful and magnificent witch such as yourself. Plus, the other side’s got a bunch of damned souls that I’m sure you could steal?”)
Ethynda sighed and put her hands on her hips.
“I suppose you two may as well come inside. I don’t need you superhero types drawing any more attention to me than you already have.”
She turned and walked back into her cave and Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy warily followed her. The inside of the cave was not at all what Professor Paleontologist had expected. He’d been inside a few magical lairs in his day, and most of them were filled with ancient and powerful artifacts, the walls were usually adorned with mantras or wards or the occasional shelf filled with pickled eyeballs, paws, tails, dreams, and other common potion ingredients. This cave, however, was empty, and Professor Paleontologist found that especially worrying.
“Where is everything?” he asked.
Ethynda raised an eyebrow, “Everything?”
“I’ve heard about you Ethynda, you’re a powerful sorceress, and you keep to yourself. I don’t imagine you spend all of your time sitting alone in an empty cave. So I ask again, where is everything? Where are all the charms and idols and amulets and icons and-”
(“Thingamabobs and whosits and whatsits.”)
“Moving, leaving, whatever. The world’s gone to hell and trust me, I’d know, I’ve been. You and your super pals lost. Big time. And we don’t intend to hang around for the blowback.”
“What do you mean you’re leaving? You have the power to help us set things right? Where are you even going?”
“Me and every other magic user I know. We’re not interested in litigating the squabbles of you cape and mask and fisticuff types. This is not our war and we have no interest in fighting a losing battle. So we’re exiting this plane of existence.”
(“You’re going to the Magirealm.”)
“The Magirealm? You think you’ll be safe there?” Professor Paleontologist shouted, waving his arms wildly and freely. After all, there was nothing of value he might accidentally knock over anyway.
“I guarantee you we’ll be a lot safer there than we will be here. Besides, what on Gaea would make you think that I’d be interested in joining your little team?”
(“Why Ethynda, we’re friends aren’t we?”)
“Absolutely not, what would make you think that?”
“That’s actually as far as that line of reasoning goes,” Professor Paleontologist said, feeling deflated.
“Do you know how many halfwits and sociopaths tried to blackmail me into giving them powers after your stupid blog advised them to? You’ve caused me no shortage of problems, we’re certainly not friends. Now as far as me not killing you goes, what kind of person do you take me for? I don’t just murder anybody who insults me on the internet.”
(“Aw are you still sour about that? We just wrote that post about magical vehicles for you, I thought that made things even.”)
“Sure, fine, we’re even. You can find your own way out right? There’s just the one entrance,” Ethynda said as she turned away from Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy.
(“Are you telling me that you’re ok with supervillains taking over the world?”) Parenthetical Guy shouted drawing a sharp glance from Ethynda’s cat.
“The petty disputes of superheroes and supervillains are of little concern to the magical community. We are more than content to wait this crisis out in the Magirealm.”
(“What a bunch of cowards you are! All that abra kadabra power and you just vacate this plane of existence until we save the world from Smuggles and Chuck and… Oh, is that what this is? Are you afraid of who they’re working with? Is this about Greg the Skeleton King?”)
Ethynda whipped around and grabbed Parenthetical Guy by the collar of his shirt.
“The forces of Hell are not to be trifled with. You’d do well to flee as well.”
(“Oh please. His name is Greg, we can take him.”)
Ethynda threw him against the wall and Professor Paleontologist ran over to him.
“I’ll ask you one more time to leave my home before I force you out.”
“Are you ok?” Professor Paleontologist asked, helping Parenthetical Guy to his feet.
(“Wait! Wait, ok, you won’t help us fight. That’s fine. That’s your right. Just grant me one wish.”)
(“Come on Ethynda, just get me and my sidekick here into the Cube. Then you can go off and cavort with your magical friends in another dimension.”)
“Ha! That is your wish? Very well then, I’ll transport you into the Cube. But if you think he’s going to help you you’re even dumber than you look.”
Parenthesis Guy dusted off his pants and smirked, (“I get that a lot thanks.”)
“Wait a minute, the Cube, as in-”
“Leave,” Ethynda said as her eyes began glowing green and she snapped her fingers.
Hatman reached the entrance of the alley just as a large cargo truck drove by. The words “All hail King Smuggles Eternal Ruler of the-” had been hastily spray painted on to the side of it. So hastily in fact, that the last word was just a green blob instead of anything discernable. Curly watched the grapple line extend as Hatman, still gripping his end of the grappling hook, hopped onto the back of the truck and, using magnets in his gauntlet and boots, began climbing around the side of it to the front. At this point the truck’s driver, the supervillain Jhonny McBarnburner, noticed that there was a masked hero crawling across the side of his truck and started responding accordingly. Jhonny cut the wheel sharply to the right, causing the truck to swerve violently but Hatman clung on. With his free hand he activated a small signal hijacker in his utility belt, giving him full control of the truck’s radio.
“It’s going to take a lot more than that to shake me criminal scum!” Hatman declared over the radio.
“Hey don’t call me scum! You know my name! You stopped me from burning down a barn like a month ago!” Jhonny shouted at his dashboard.
“I can see that you’re talking to me but I can’t hear you with your window rolled up. I’ll assume you’re issuing a full and unequivocal surrender.”
“Full and unequivocal what? The nerve of this guy,” Jhonny Mcbarnburner said as he rolled down the window so the costumed man clinging to the side of his truck could hear his witty jibes and retorts.
“Is this better? Can you hear me now?” Jhonny asked before receiving a magnetized boot to the face as Hatman hurled himself through the now open cab window. Jhonny Mcbarnburner flew across the cab into the passenger’s side window. Hatman, who was now sitting in the driver’s seat quickly wrapped his grappling gun around the steering wheel and slammed on the gas.
“Ah come on!” Jhonny said as his hand ignited into a small fireball. “The boss isn’t going to like me singing the inside of this truck but I reckon he’d prefer slightly crispy to nothing. I reckon bringing your charred remains in oughta make me mighty popular too.”
“That’s funny,” Hatman said as he threw a miniature plastic fireman’s helmet at Jhonny’s hand. The plastic hat exploded into fire-retardant foam which quickly extinguished Jhonny’s fist. “Bringing you in won’t raise my standing with the Resistance one iota, what does that tell you about how this fight is likely to play out.”
Jhonny screamed as he lunged at Hatman causing him to lose control of the truck. Hatman sighed and pushed Jhonny off of him back into the passenger’s seat. He then pressed the recall button on his grappling gun and, while keeping one hand on the wheel, vacated the driver’s seat himself, joining Jhonny on the passenger’s side.
Curly had grown bored of waiting in the alley and was now sitting against a grimy wall plucking out a somber tune on the grapple wire that was attached to his belt.
{“What the heck is Hatman doing over there?”} he asked.
All of a sudden he felt the rope go taut.
Then he felt himself moving.
{“Wait a minuuuuuuhhhh-”}
Curly found himself soaring through the air behind the out of control truck as the grapple line grew shorter and shorter.
{“This is insaaaaaane!”} he shouted as he flew through the still open window on the truck’s driver’s side and slammed into the steering wheel.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Hatman said as he released his own hand from the wheel. “You drive.”
{“What the hell was that!”} Curly shouted as he quickly grabbed the wheel and put his foot on the brake to try to slow the truck down a bit.
“Meet me at the corner of 14th and Tropp, I’ve got a garage there,” Hatman shouted as he wrestled with Jhonny McBarnburner.
{“Meet you?”} Curly asked frantically as he struggled to keep the bounding truck under control as a veritable all out brawl raged on inches away from him.
“Yeah,” Hatman grunted as he grabbed Jhonny McBarnburner with one hand and threw the passenger door open with the other one, causing both hero and villain to tumble out of the speeding truck.
{“Well, all right then. See you there,”} Curly said as he gripped onto the truck’s steering wheel for dear life. Through the rearview mirror he could see Hatman tussling with a fully engulfed in flames Jhonny McBarburner in the middle of the street.
{“You really haven’t changed much my hatted honcho,”} Curly said.
A few minutes later, Curly brought the truck to a stop in front of the garage that Hatman had described to him and was surprised when the door started to rise open to allow the truck in.
Aha! Curly thought. There must be some camera system that has identified me as a former Hatboy so it’s letting me in. At least the system remembers me.
All thoughts of being validated by Hatman’s computer system evaporated when he saw Hatman standing inside the garage next to a tied up Jhonny McBarnburner.
“Took you long enough,” Hatman said after Curly had pulled the truck in and the door had closed behind him.
{“How in the world did you beat me here!”}
“Oh please,” Hatman said as though the question were absurd. He walked over to the back of the truck, “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”
As it would turn out, the truck contained all manner of goods that might be of use to an evil world-dominating organization: Weapons, money, magical artifacts, even several jugs of clean water.
“This is the problem,” Hatman said, tapping one of the jugs. “If Smuggles and his crime consortium control everything from weapons to water, they control the populace. We can’t compete with that. If we can’t even drink freely how are we supposed to take on the combined forces of every villain on Earth and every soul that’s ever pledged fealty to the lords of Hell.”
{“Yeah but they only control it, they don’t have it. Not all of it, not yet.”}
{“Smuggles is operating out of our headquarters and let me tell you, the most valuable thing we kept there was a dirty napkin signed by what turned out to be a very convincing Owen Wilson impersonator. If Smuggles wants the world’s resources on hand he’s going to pretty much have to transfer everything. Which means they have to get supply trucks past us.”}
Hatman smiled, “Which gives us the chance to take control of everything before it gets to Smuggles.”
“The Cube” as it is called by those who know of its existence, is exactly what it sounds like. It is a cube. Made of a superstrong impenetrable alloy forged from the will of the most powerful flesh-and-blood human being in the universe, The Cube floats alone in a pocket dimension that, due to a few well placed bribes at the International Board of Travel, is totally inaccessible through official channels. But all of the best pocket dimensions are. In reality, The Cube’s pocket dimension is not as wholly separate from the rest of the multiverse as its sole occupant would like to believe. In truth, there are more than a couple of ways in. A few backdoors, so to speak, that arose during the construction of this most isolated of all dimensions. You see, The Cube was not built in an existing remote pocket dimension, it was kludged together from interdimensional debris and detritus that was siphoned off from other pocket realms. One of those other pocket realms was the Magirealm, The Cube’s closest interdimensional neighbor. Not that dimensions really have neighbors, but we’re doing our absolute best to spare you from the brain-shatteringly nonsensical physics that govern these strange realms. Anyhow, since The Cube’s dimension contains fragments of the mystical energies that constitute the Magirealm, it can, theoretically be accessed by a skilled enough magician, though none have ever attempted such a feat. While most mages would agree that travel to The Cube is possible for mystics, all would agree that such a trip would be fruitless at best, and dangerous at worst. There is only one being that calls The Cube its home, and he prefers to issue invitations to his realm at his own leisure. That man is Power Jones, the man with one million powers, and at the moment he is… hosting some kind of time-shattering game show?
“Welcome one and all to another thrilling episode of everybody’s favorite show, ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ I’m your host Power Jones!” a pale, floppy-haired man clad in a purple three-piece suit gestured broadly and flashed a dazzling smile at a bulky video camera that rested on a tall tripod. Canned applause and whistling filled the room, emanating from seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once. Behind him two individuals, one human and one robotic stood at separate lightbulb-bespeckled podiums. A large glowing sign with the gameshow’s name flashed above them.
“Let’s go meet our contestants, why don’t we?” Power Jones said, flashing one more smile at the camera.
“Yeah!” a disembodied voice shouted.
“Thank you disembodied voice!” Power Jones shouted as he whirled around to face the
other two people in the room. He strolled over to the human first, resting his elbows on the top of the gaudy podium and cradling his chin on the tops of his hands.
“Please recite your name for the audience, good sir,” Power said.
The man stammered something in Italian causing Power Jones to frown.
“Right right, other languages, I keep forgetting to account for those don’t I,” he said to himself. “Oh well, an easy fix,” he waved his left hand with a flourish in the man’s direction.
“This place is incredible? And what’s this? English? Fascinating. Pray tell, who are you?”
Power Jones beamed and slapped the other man on the back, “I’m Power Jones, now, for the good people watching at home. Who are you?”
“Oh yes, of course, my name is Leonardo,” he said.
“Leonardo who,” Power Jones prompted.
“Leonardo… from win?” he said.
Power Jones scratched his head and turned to the robotic contestant at the other podium.
“Whatever you used to translate my predecessor’s speech seems to have worked a little too well,” the android said.
“Oh for Pete’s- It’s Leonardo Da Vinci everybody!” Power shouted, eliciting more disembodied cheers and whistles.
“Yeah!” the disembodied voice shouted.
“And I am Leonardo Da Vinci II, an android clone of the famed polymath from the 32nd century,” the robotic contestant said flatly.
“Incredible!” the original Da Vinci said breathlessly as his gaze settled on the android.
“Righto! Now, as always, our first challenge is a cooking one. Using only the contents of my refrigerator you must make me a sandwich. Whomever makes the best one wins!”
The Da Vincis stared at him blankly.
“You um, you do know that I’m not a chef,” the human Da Vinci said.
Power Jones eyes glowed red and his voice dropped a dozen octaves, “Foolish mortal! Power Jones knows all!”
Da Vinci stumbled backward, clutching his chest, “Demon!”
Power reverted to normal, “Nah, I’m just messing with you Leo. Of course I know that you’re not a chef, if you were a chef this would be way too easy. None of today’s challenges will have anything to do with your many talents or accomplishments, if they did I’m pretty sure the android would kick your butt at the sciences, and you would wipe the floor with him when it comes to the arts. So to keep things fair and balanced you both are going to make me a-” Power Jones trailed off and his purple suit melted into purple chainmail armor.
“Someone’s coming,” he said gravely.
Suddenly, in a puff of green smoke Parenthetical Guy and Professor Paleontologist appeared in the center of the room.
(“Wow I did not think we were going to make it,”) Parenthetical Guy said as he surveyed the room.
“Then why did you wish for this?” Professor Paleontologist shouted, gobsmacked. “We need to get back to Earth, Ultiman is count-.”
The two interlopers were flung off of their feet into a nearby wall.
(“Ouch,”) Parenthetical Guy said.
Power Jones’s eyes were glowing red again. “Who are you! And why have you dared trespass onto my domain!” he boomed before winking at Da Vinci.
Professor Paleontologist struggled to his feet, “Mr. Jones, please if you just give us a minute-.”
“I didn’t invite any other guests here and I’m clearly in the middle of something so unless the two of you are more Da Vincis I’m going to have to vaporize you or turn you into sandwich ingredients. You have until I decide to answer.”
“We need your help!” Professor Paleontologist shouted.
(“We are indeed more Da Vincis!”) Parenthetical guy shouted at the same time. Things were rapidly getting out of hand and it was clear to him that this was the best way to have a prolonged conversation with Power Jones.
Power Jones smiled widely and his purple chainmail melted into his usual mode of dress, an unbuttoned purple vest over a one-piece black bodysuit.
“A couple of Da Vincis in need of my help? Why please, go on.”
Professor Paleontologist stammered nervously “I am, uh. Well you see actually…”
Typical Professor Paleontologist, blowing our one chance of being the heroes of the Resistance, I’ll handle this, Parenthetical guy thought to himself.
(“I am Leonidas Da Vinci, a dimension hopping Da Vinci that defends the multiverse and leads the legendary Da Vinci Corps. This is my sidekick. No wait! My personal assistant, Leon Von Iguanada Vinci, he’s really into dinosaurs, but he assures me that it’s not in a weird way or anything.”)
Power Jones turned to the camera, “Isn’t this something! A visit from the famed and legendary Da Vinci Corps!”
“Are you uh, are you broadcasting this?” Professor Paleontologist asked as he finally took a moment to glance around at his surroundings.
“Of course I am! ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ is one of the most popular television programs ever!” Power Jones proclaimed.
“Where does it air?” Professor Paleontologist asked.
Power Jones looked at him for a moment and then scratched his chin “You know what? I honestly have no idea,” Power Jones said.
“What is going on!” Leonardo Da Vinci shouted as he and the android joined the talking circle in the middle of the room.
“Why have I never heard of a Da Vinci corps?” the android Da Vinci asked.
“Yeah!” the disembodied voice shouted.
Professor Paleontologist whipped around “Who said that?”
“Oh, that’s just a disembodied voice that shouts ‘yeah!’ every so often. I’m not entirely sure where it came from. I don’t think one of my powers is to create a disembodied voice that shouts ‘yeah!’ every so often. But truly it can be difficult to keep track.”
(“Well, that’s certainly neat, but to answer my counterpart’s question, we’re an interdimensional force that defends arts and science from those who wish to destroy it.”) Parenthetical Guy said, thinking on his feet.
“Erm, yes, we defend ideas and creativity. There are a lot of people who would threaten those concepts that are integral to our society, and only Renaissance Men such as ourselves have what it takes to ensure their protection,” Professor Paleontologist said, speaking directly into the camera.
Suddenly the entire room rotated and Parenthetical Guy and Professor Paleontologist were flung to the floor once more.
“None of that explains why you’re here,” Power Jones said, he and the two Da Vincis were now standing on the wall which had previously been the floor.
Parenthetical Guy sprung to his feet, (“Why! We’ve come to recruit these two fine Da Vincis of course!”)
Professor Paleontologist groaned, it was clear to him that his partner was quickly losing track of what they were supposed to be doing.
(“We have just come from a reality where arts and sciences have been threatened by a foul knave who would see all knowledge and creativity erased so that he may rule over a dim and dull populace. We’re endeavoring to stop them, can I count on your help?”)
“Why of course! Provided I can figure out how to get down from this wall!” Leonardo Da Vinci shouted.
“Yeah sure, that sounds like it could be interesting,” Leonardo Da Vinci II said.
“Well that’s all well and good,” Professor Paleontologist said, trying to get the mission back on track, “Now Mr. Jones, if we could actually-”
“Well, it seems like you’ve gotten what you wanted, this has certainly been quite an interesting episode of ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ but I’ve grown tired from hosting so many guests. All of you leave my home immediately.”
(“Oh, shoot I forgot what we came here for.”)
Power Jones waved goodbye and just like that the two Da Vincis and the two superheroes were gone.
Curly was laying on his stomach on the top of an abandoned grocery store. A crudely constructed domino mask did a questionable job of concealing his identity and the leg of a large “K” — part of the sign displaying the store’s name “MOSTLY SNACKS”— concealed his body from any supervillain patrols. He scanned the street using a pair of high-tech binoculars that Hatman had given him. Supposedly they were twice as good as any binoculars that Glassesman had ever developed. Curly wasn’t totally convinced of that, seeing as how glasses were kind of the guy’s main thing, and what are binoculars if not fancy glasses, but Hatman had been very insistent about this fact.
Curly stopped when a truck, nearly identical to the one he and Hatman had stolen the night before, only with somehow even sloppier graffiti on it, ambled into his view.
{“All right boss, I’ve got one,”} Curly said into a communicator Hatman had loaned him.
“What did I say about speaking to me?” Hatman responded. He was still trying, and mostly failing, to intimidate Curly into falling in line.
{“Not to do so unless you spoke to me first. But you also told me to be on the lookout for more supply trucks and that kind of seems like the more important order.”}
Curly heard Hatman sigh dramatically “How many in the cab?” Hatman was a few blocks away, searching for trucks from a perch of his own.
{“Two. It looks like they’ve noticed the other truck is missing.”}
“It’s safe to assume there are more in the trailer then, Smuggles doesn’t want any more trucks to go missing.”
“Indeed. Can you tell who they are?”
Curly upped the zoom on his binoculars while aiming it at the truck’s windshield.
{“It looks like… Dr. Deathtrap and… oh yeah, that’s Snipey McSkullface.”}
{“He’s got a face tattoo, of a skull, he’s practically wearing a more visible nametag.”}
“Very well, keep tracking it but don’t engage until I get there.”
{“Sure thing Hats,”} Curly said before deciding to completely ignore the older hero. Curly removed his grappling hook from his old Hatboy utility belt, and after trying to figure out how to work it, cursed under his breath and threw it over his shoulder.
{“All right, I don’t need that. I’ll do this my way,”} Curly muttered to himself before running over to the edge of the roof and hurling himself over the side of it.
“What was that?” Hatman shouted.
{“Nothing!”} Curly shouted as he landed on the store’s awning and made the jump down to street level.
“What part of ‘don’t engage’ do you not understand?” Hatman shouted.
{“By the time you get here they could be long gone, or someone could get hurt. If you see a supervillain you’ve gotta stop a supervillain. We’ve got a poster that says that back in the office,”} Curly said as he removed some more implements from his utility belt: a crumpled piece of paper and a small length of string.
“You’re the someone who is going to get hurt if you try to stop the villains in the truck. You’re practically a civilian. No, you’re worse than a civilian. You’re a superhero-adjacent civilian, which means you’re definitely going to bite off more than you can chew.”
Curly patted his stomach with one hand and scooped up a good sized rock off the ground with the other, {“Never underestimate the amount that I can chew!”}
“I’m serious Curly, this isn’t the time for jokes.”
{“It’s always the time for jokes. We’ve got a poster that says that too.”}
Ahead of him Curly watched as the truck slowed to a stop at a red light.
{“Perfect, they’ve stopped for a red light.”}
“Why would a supervillain stop for a red light! It’s a trap Curly! Get out of there!”
“Why did we stop?” Dr. Deathtrap asked irately, this glorified babysitting job was far beneath him.
“Red light,” Snipey McSkullface said casually, this glorified babysitting job was right at his level of supervillainy.
“So what? We’re supervillains, in a world controlled by supervillains and the collected forces of evils, we don’t stop for reds. Keep moving.”
Snipey McSkullface shook his head, “The only people on the road are these supply trucks, and, like you said, all of those trucks are driven by supervillains who probably aren’t following any traffic laws or regulations. I run this red light, there’s a very good chance we get t-boned by another one of these trucks. With my luck, it’ll be one carrying nuclear warheads or killer hornets or something. So nuh-uh, we stop at reds.”
“You’re absurd,” Dr. Deathtrap growled at him.
Suddenly, a rock with a note tied to it smashed through the passenger side window and landed in Dr. Deathtrap’s lap.
“What the hell?” he said as he picked up the rock.
The light changed to green and Snipey McSkullface got the truck moving again.
“Could be it’s from Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy in the back. What’s it say?” Snipey asked.
“It says… ‘Dr. Deathtrap smells’. What!”
Snipey McSkullface burst out laughing. “Ha! They totally got you. And you do kind of smell. What’s the deal with that?”
“How dare you!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted as he scooped up the rock and smacked Snipey McSkullface in the side of the head with it causing Snipey to jerk the wheel sharply to the left.
“Hey!” Snipey McSkullface said as he tried to get the wheel under control.
“It’s enough of an insult that I have to ferry these goods for Smuggles of all people. But I will not broach insults about my personal hygiene!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted as he wrapped his hands around the steering wheel.
“Now, I obviously cannot construct one of my patented deathtraps under these conditions, but I can certainly turn this truck into one!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted before bursting into maniacal laughter as the truck careened out of control.
{“Holy cow that worked, like, immediately,”} Curly said as he took cover in a nearby alleyway as the supply truck jumped the curb and flipped over, spilling diamonds, guns, and out-of-season fruits all over the place.
“What did you do!” a gruff voice said from behind him as a firm hand landed on his shoulder.
Curly spun around, ready for a fight, only to find Hatman glowering at him from beneath his top hat cowl. When he saw the grim hero Curly burst into a wide smile and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
“We need to get all of these guns off the streets now, the last thing we need is a scared public getting into gun fights with supervillains,” Hatman said.
{“Fine fine, we’ll call it into the rest of the Resistance and somebody can pick all this stuff up. But for now we’d better check to make sure those baddies are down for the count.”}
Hatman nodded and quickly rattled off a series of instructions into his remaining gauntlet communicator. The two heroes then walked across the street to the overturned truck.
“Hatman!” a bombastic voice called from the wreckage.
“Leave this to me,” Hatman said as he removed a shrunken object from his utility belt. With a flick of his wrist he enlarged the object to full size and Curly could see that it was some sort of helmet with a short pike on top of it.
“A pickelhaube,” Hatman said as though that explained anything as he screwed the “helmet” over the top of his gauntlet, making it look like his hand had been replaced with the pike.
{“I don’t know what Parenthetical Guy told you but I assure you my pickle-”}
“It’s a 19th century Prussian military helmet,” Hatman said curtly as he readied himself for battle.
{“Ok but why do you have it and why is it on your hand?”}
“I see that today is more glorious than I ever could have imagined! Today is the day I will finally vanquish the accursed capped crusader!” a man cried as he emerged from the open trailer. Like Hatman, he too was decked out in strange and ancient looking armor, though his covered more than just his left hand, and the blade he was wielding was a fair bit larger than Hatman’s hand pike. Curly narrowed his eyes, while he had never met this particular villain, it was clear from his choice of weaponry that this was the notorious Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy. The How to Hero gang had spent a fair bit of time making fun of this guy, though now Curly wished they had instead spent that time talking about how best to best him in combat or at the very least how to avoid being skewed on his ruby encrusted sword.
Hatman didn’t waste any time with pre-battle banter or taunts, instead charging at the villain and aiming for his sword-hand with his battle pike. Curly winced as Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy blocked the blow with his sword and then kicked out at Hatman forcing him back a bit so that he could slash at the hero with his blade. Hatman parried the sword with his pickelhaube and jumped back out of the range of Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s ruby encrusted sword. Hatman unclipped his grapple gun from its holster and fired a line at the sword, attempting to snare it but Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy effortlessly slashed through the wire and charged at Hatman.
{“You can do it Hatman!”} Curly cried out {“I heard a rumor that those rubies are just plastic anyway!”}
Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy whipped his head toward Curly. “Who told you that?” he demanded. He was only distracted for a moment but it was enough for Hatman to press the advantage. He quickly slammed the butt of his bare palm into Ruby Encrusted Sword’s Guy nose, he then ducked low and swept the villain’s legs out from under him. Hatman then jabbed his pickelhaube into Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s chest, using the momentum from the fall to pierce the villain’s thick battle armor.
“Damn you!” Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy shouted as he swung his sword at Hatman. Hatman grabbed Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s sword hand with his hand, stopping the downward motion of it. He then aimed his Pickelhaube hand at the sword and, to both Curly’s and Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s surprise, launched the small helmet from the gauntlet. The helmet’s pike made contact with Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s hand, causing him to drop his sword, which Hatman then caught in his now free hand.
“Stand down. Now,” Hatman said as he pointed the villain’s own sword at the weak spot in his armor that Hatman had created.
{“Consider your villainous endeavors cut off at the knees,”} Curly grinned.
“How did you flip the truck?” Hatman asked when they were safely back in Hatman’s garage. Ultiman had sent Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man and a couple of other heroes to clean up the mess and round up the villains Hatman had left behind. Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man had also indicated that Ultiman would prefer if Hatman and Curly returned to the Haberdashery so they could better coordinate their actions with the rest of the Resistance. But Hatman had thrown a smoke bomb at the ground and whisked Curly away in the confusion.
{“Well Dr. Deathtrap helped. I just tossed a little note into the truck and he took it from there.”}
“What’d you say?” Hatman asked.
{“Dr. Deathtrap smells.”}
Hatman looked confused for a moment, but then realization and then a smile dawned on his features. “Of course, good thinking.”
Curly was shocked, {“What really? You like that?”}
Hatman began pacing back and forth, talking as much to himself as to Curly.
“Of course, of course. Somehow Smuggles has gotten all of these villains to work together, to work for him. But that kind of alliance can’t be especially strong, not with who these villains are. Not with the way all villains are. They’re arrogant, they’re loud, they’re antisocial.”
{“Every villain wants to rule the world,”} Curly muttered.
“Exactly!” Hatman shouted. “If we can just nudge them slightly towards infighting, they’ll take care of themselves. By the time Ultiman and the others are ready to mount an attack on Smuggles and his inner circle, we’ll have already destabilized the rest of his organization,” he abruptly turned towards Curly. “How many more insults do you think you can whip up? I can scatter them around in locations that I know these villains are patrolling regularly.”
Curly rubbed his hands together, {“Oh Hats, you don’t know it but you’ve just hit the jackpot. Most of what we did back at the office was make fun of these villains. You tell me who you want to insult, and I’ll help you hit them where it hurts.” }
Hatman smiled, “Excellent.”
“Well that was a huge waste of time,” Professor Paleontologist said as he patted himself down, making sure that all of him had made the transfer from The Cube back to Earth.
(“What are you talking about? Ultiman sent us to gather allies and we just scored not one, but two in one fell swoop!”)
“I don’t think a couple of time-displaced renaissance men is what Ultiman had in mind,” Professor Paleontologist snapped.
Leonardo Da Vinci raised his hand, “Pardon me, but what is it that you needed us for again?”
Professor Paleontologist turned to the artist, a sheepish expression on his face, “I’m afraid we may have misled you sir. We’re not versions of you from alternate realities, I’m a superhero, Professor Paleontologist, and he’s a… I don’t know, an intern? A court jester? I’ve been reading your blog for quite a bit and I’ve never quite figured out what your role actually is.”
Parenthetical Guy let out a loud, forced, laugh. (“Oh Iguanada Vinci how you slay me. This should clear everything up,”) he said as he handed out business cards to everybody.
“This just says that you’re an ‘expert on everything,’” Leonardo Da Vinci II said. “That doesn’t clear up anything.”
The android then took stock of their surroundings. They were standing in the anteroom of the Haberdashery and the walls were adorned with different hat-shaped gadgets and gizmos.
“Ah,” he said. “We’re in the possible past year of 2021, this is the Smuggles Event is it not?”
Professor Paleontologist didn’t exactly like the term “possible-past” but he was relieved that the android had saved him the trouble of trying to explain their situation. “Yes, that’s exactly right. We’ve been tasked with locating possible allies for an eventual assault on Smuggles’s stronghold.”
Leonardo Da Vinci II nodded, “You may count on my assistance in the coming battle. Smuggles must be defeated for my timeline to come about.”
Leonardo Da Vinci stared open mouthed at the three individuals in front of him and then at all of the machines adorning the walls around them. “This is… All of this is absolutely incredible. I’m not much of a warrior but if you let me examine some of these inventions I’ll happily help in any way I can.”
Parenthetical Guy folded his arms across his chest and smiled smugly at Professor Paleontologist, (“See! Mission accomplished, let’s never speak to each other again.”)
Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes, “Before we call it a day I actually have an idea for where we can find even more help.”
(“You’re telling me right now to my face, in front of our staunchest allies no less, that you think we need more help than these two time-displaced Leonardo Da Vincis.”)
“Yes,” Professor Paleontologist said matter of factly as he began pacing back and forth. “Now, what I’m about to suggest is highly unusual, and entirely unprecedented, but there is a sizable group of powerful do gooders that we have yet to tap, and whom I believe would have been overlooked during Smuggles’s hostile takeover of the world.”
Parenthetical Guy rolled his eyes, (“And I’m supposed to believe you just forgot about them until now? Deus ex machina much?”)
“He’s not wrong, that does seem awfully convenient,” Da Vinci said, stroking his chin. He was now wearing a futuristic helmet labeled “The Hat-Helmet Mark 1”.
Professor Paleontologist held his hands up, “I would’ve mentioned them immediately but for the fact that it goes against every superhero protocol in the book. So when Parenthetical Guy said that he had some ideas I figured we’d leave mine as a last resort. But we’ve been at this for a while now and it’s pretty clear that I need to step in.”
(“So who are these perfect recruits?”)
“Are you familiar with the Superhero School in Albany?” Professor Paleontologist asked.
(“I’m familiar with the fact that they’re a subpar, overpriced superhero teaching institution. How to Hero covers everything those stuffed shirts do and so much more… And so much better!)
“Granted I don’t think the school offers a course in ‘what to do if a ‘which superhero are you’ quiz gives you an answer you weren’t expecting,’” Professor Paleontologist said flatly, “But they do have a sizable student body. Since your blog started enrollment has surged to record breaking levels.”
(“Hey that’s a more common problem than you’d think! Do you know how many superheroes have turned evil because they got, for example, you on one of those quizzes?”)
“So we’re going to… Albany was it?” Leonardo Da Vinci asked.
“Oh the school isn’t actually in Albany,” Professor Paleontologist said.
Parenthetical Guy looked up sharply, (“What? What are you talking about?”)
“It’s just called that to throw people off the scent. It’s actual location is one of the most closely guarded secrets in superherodom. That’s why I’m quite certain that Smuggles’s forces wouldn’t have been able to find it.”
(“Sounds like you’ve definitely endangered the people of Albany by calling it that but whatever,”) Parenthetical Guy muttered to himself parenthetically.
“So where is this academy then?” Da Vinci asked.
“It’s been moved since you last taught there Professor,” Da Vinci II suddenly piped up.
“Ah, I was worried about that,” Professor Paleontologist admitted.
(“Makes sense, they wouldn’t want you showing up there again.”)
“If I may,” Da Vinci II said, “In my time, the many locations of the school is a matter of historical record. I know where it is at this very moment, and I can use my personal warp gate to take us there without compromising the secrecy of its location.”
Professor Paleontologist beamed, “That’s perfect!”
(“See, my gets are already helping us save the world.”)
“If everyone could just gather close to me, we can be on our way in a…”
In a flash of light the unlikely quartet disappeared to parts unknown.
“According to the pattern I’ve detected, another shipment should be rolling through the city shortly. We should get back out there,” Hatman said, consulting a handheld electronic map of the city.
Curly looked up from his notes. He’d written devastating insults for just about every villain that was confirmed to be working with Smuggles. And he’d done like two and a half sit ups. He was readier than he’d ever been to fight more crime alongside Hatman.
A sharp chirp drew both of their attention to the truck they’d hijacked from Jhonny McBarnburner.
“What was that? It sounded like-”
{“It’s your gauntlet,”} Curly said quickly.
Hatman narrowed his eyes, “My what?”
{“The gauntlet you threw away back in that alley where we first joined forces. I thought I could maybe reverse engineer it and develop some for myself. I’m a bit of a tech guy you know. I basically keep the blog running and all. I added a shuffle button to the interface. I’m sure you noticed that and so I figured, hey free gauntlet filled with all sorts of gizmos and doodads and whirli-”}
“Curly!” Hatman snapped. “I threw that gauntlet away because I believed it could be used by Smuggles’s forces to track my movements.”
{“Oof, wow. So it would’ve been really great if I hadn’t taken it out of that dumpster is what you’re saying.”}
Hatman snarled and then rushed over to the truck. He grabbed the gauntlet from the truck’s cab and looked at the message on the screen. As he read his scowl softened and he furrowed his brow.
“They know where you are. They’ll be there soon. Z VS PG them. Will be in touch again soon.”
“Curly, get in the truck. This location is compromised, they’ll be here any minute.”
As Curly trudged over to the truck, Hatman tossed him the gauntlet.
“And what do you make of this?”
Curly read the cryptic message and smiled. “Well, it looks like you’ve got yourself another mole.”
“We have arrived,” Da Vinci II announced.
They were standing in an open field, a large imposing building loomed in the distance.
Parenthetical Guy quickly took out his phone and opened the Snaphat app.
“What are you doing?” Professor Paleontologist hissed.
(“Looking for a geotag. Secret location my ass. I deserve to know where we are.”)
“I’m afraid that won’t work,” a gruff voice said from above them.
All of a sudden the quartet found themselves surrounded as dozens of brightly clad superhumans and para-folk descended from the sky. A cavalcade of glowing eyes, fists and weapons sent a clear message: Do anything we don’t like, and we’ll blast you straight to kingdom come.
“The Superhero School can’t be located by any form of technology, a combination of hexes and our own advanced tech sees to that,” an older man in a lab coat said as he descended on a floating metal platform. “Now why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”
(“Ok how about we chill with the attitude geezer. I’m here to save the world, which of you good for nothing recluses is in?”)
A look of disgust flashed across the older man’s features. “How dare-”
Professor Paleontologist cleared his throat and stepped in front of Parenthetical Guy. “I’ll take it from here.”
Immediately the atmosphere changed, the older man’s features softened and some of the others even powered down a smidge.
“Professor Von Iguanadon,” the older man said as he quickly walked over to Professor Paleontologist, causing Parenthetical Guy and the two Da Vincis to raise their fists, expecting a fight.
“It’s good to see you old friend!” the older man cried before giving Professor Paleontologist a hug.
“It’s good to see you too Professor Fueller,” Professor Paleontologist said, clapping the other professor on the back.
“What brings you back to the school?” Professor Mitch Fueller asked, and then, dropping his voice an octave, “And how did you find us?”
(“We used an android duplicate of Leonardo Da Vinci from the future to find you and teleport here. Isn’t that how everybody does it?”) Parenthetical Guy said smugly while the Da Vincis waved at the superheroes in training.
“And why did you bring him here,” Fueller said, not even trying to hide his disdain for Parenthetical Guy.
The How to Hero crew had long been a thorn in the side of the Superhero School’s faculty. Professor Fueller once estimated that the teachers spent roughly 80% of their class time reteaching topics and concepts that students had been misinformed about by How to Hero. He wasn’t sure what had brought Professor Paleontologist back to the Superhero School, but there were very few reasons Fueller could think of that would convince Leon to bring Parenthetical Guy of all people to the school’s hallowed grounds.
“I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t an emergency Mitch,” Professor Paleontologist said, explaining quickly. “Supervillains have taken over the world, and we’re going to need all hands on deck to take it back.”
A hush fell over the crowd, followed by an anxious murmur.
“Supervillains have taken over the world?”
“They need us? Where’s Hero Force?”
“Shit man, is that Leonardo Da Vinci?”
Fueller shuddered. The superhero school was, by design, cut off from all communications from the outside world. The idea was to keep students in the school until they were properly ready to go out into the world of superheroing. If the school and its students had access to news and was constantly being informed about supervillain attacks, alien invasions, and all manner of other crises, the odds were good that students would decide they were ready to help before they were, which could be catastrophic. So it was news to everybody that the world had gone down such a dark path without any of them being the wiser.
(“Listen up you wannabes!”) Parenthetical Guy shouted as he climbed atop a nearby boulder.
“Oh dear,” Professor Paleontologist said resignedly.
(“A guy named Smuggles has teamed up with every supervillain on the planet and also the forces of Hell and also Zeus I guess? The heroes barely have two stones to rub together to light a fire under our own asses. So we’re forced to come to you almosts and wouldbes. None of you are my first choice obviously. There’s no way any of you are even remotely ready for this, especially since you get your hero training from a hoity toity place like this instead of, I don’t know, my totally kickass blog. How to Hero look it up, tell your friends. But what I can say, we’re desperate, so here we are. Who’s in?”)
Da Vinci II buried his face in his robotic palm.
“Get down from there,” Fueller demanded before turning to his erstwhile colleague. “Is it true, are things so dire?”
Professor Paleontologist nodded, “Ultiman sent us looking for allies and we haven’t had much luck yet. You know I wouldn’t come to you if I could avoid it. Nobody more than me understands the importance of allowing the students to complete the full curriculum before they join the good fight. But we’re vastly outnumbered and quite frankly, out of options.”
Fueller sighed, he was going to have to break every rule in the handbook.
“All right then,” he pressed a button on his lapel that connected him to the schoolwide PA system. “Listen up everybody. This is Professor Fueller. We have just received word that the rest of the world is in dire trouble. The forces of evil have managed to prevail, at least for the moment. But as you all know, good can never be fully snuffed out. A resistance has formed, and that small force of good has reached out to us in search of help. I know this isn’t how things usually work here, but, well, the world usually isn’t taken over by supervillains overnight. So I’m calling upon each and every one of you, teacher and student alike, to join me, to join the forces of justice, in this fight. If you’ll join me, please come to the quad now.”
Fueller cut his connection to the PA and turned to Professor Paleontologist, “Many of them are not combat ready but we’ll help in any way we can.”
“I appreciate that old friend,” Professor Paleontologist said.
“Look!” Da Vinci shouted as he pointed towards the school.
Colorfully clad figures of all shapes and sizes were pouring out of the building and marching towards the small group already standing in the quad.
Professor Paleontoligst smiled and nudged Parenthetical Guy with his elbow, “How’s that for an army?”
Parenthetical Guy could barely suppress his grin, (“Whatever, I’m taking credit for it.”)
Hatman got the truck started and ready to move at the very same moment that the large metal door of the garage exploded.
“Hold on to something,” Hatman growled as he slammed on the gas causing the truck to barrel forward toward the smoking doorway.
A hail of gunfire caused Hatman and Curly to duck down in their seats. The windshield soon shattered, which caused Hatman to swear softly and place an arm protectively over Curly, but all the while the capped crusader kept his boot on the pedal and the truck kept, well, trucking.
Hatman heard several yelps and shouts as orange and red clad men with tommy guns dove out of the way of the speeding vehicle.
“That’s about enough Hatman!” a warbly, Italian accented voice shouted before the truck squelched to a halt.
“They’ve managed to hit the engine block,” Hatman observed as he slipped the compromised gauntlet onto his bare hand. He reasoned that there was no point in notit wearing it seeing as Smuggles people already had a pretty good idea of where they were. And he didn’t want to leave himself shorthanded for the fight that was no doubt about to occur.
{“Want me to insult them?”} Curly said as he stayed hunched over in his seat.
Hatman gritted his teeth as the gunmen approached the cab, “Knock yourself out.”
Curly flashed a toothy grin and a thumbs out before cupping his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn.
{“Excellent shooting boys, you really managed to incapacitate a 40 ton truck with just under 100 bullets. You lot must have graduated at the top of your class at henchmen school!”} he called.
Another message flashed across Hatman’s gauntlet.
“Curly, we need to move now,” Hatman said.
{“Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”} Curly said sarcastically as the cab doors were thrown open and the two heroes were dragged out of it. Hatman and Curly were both made to kneel on the ground while two of the henchmen bound their hands behind them. Curly steeled himself, trying to prepare for anything the next couple of minutes might throw at him. What he wasn’t prepared for though was a giant, mustachioed, lobster wearing a trench coat and a fedora with holes cut into it to accommodate the creature’s eyestalks.
“Ah Hatman it brings me great pleasure to be the one to finally end your reign of heroism and hat-themed nonsense!”
Curly could barely believe his eyes, or his ears.
{“Wait a minute! You’re the Mobster, like, the lobster who runs a mob? You’re actually real? I thought that was just something we made up for the blog. I can’t believe this. You’re really a lobster! This is the happiest I’ve ever been. Wow.”}
The Mobster narrowed his eyes, “I see you’ve recruited yet another Hatboy, it will bring me great joy to kill this one and finally earn my ‘Murder a Hatboy’ badge at this year’s supervillain jamboree.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Hatman said and then spat at the Lobster’s feet.
Suddenly dozens of men in full combat gear rappelled down from the roofs of nearby
Buildings. A man wearing a cowl shaped like the head of a snake and wearing a black labcoat gesticulated wildly from one of the roofs as the combat gear clad men surrounded the Mobster, his mob, and Hatman and Curly.
“We’ve finally tracked you down Hatman! Prepare to meet your end at the hands of the Dr. Python and the Python Paramilitary!”
Hatman rolled his eyes, apparently Smuggles had shared their location with several of the crime bosses now under his employ.
“What are you doing here Python! This is my score!” the Mobster shouted, craning his segmented neck to get a better look at Dr. Python who was cackling like a madman.
At that same moment an armored truck pulled up, a horde of giant, gun-toting, lizards jumped out of the back of it.
“Hatman! We’re bringing you in to Smuggles for the glory of the lizard-people mob!” one of the lizards hissed/shouted.
“What! I am the only reptile themed villain who will defeat Hatman!” Dr. Python shouted.
“What?” the lizard shouted. With everybody milling around on the ground, it was getting difficult to hear Dr. Python up on the roof.
“Halt Hatman! Prepare to suffer the wrath of El Chad!” shouted a disheveled man riding atop a goat with the words “Property of How To Hero Don’t Frikkin Steal This One Chad I Mean It!” shaved into its fur.
Everybody, villain, hero, and henchman alike let out a loud groan. El Chad was the worst. Nobody was ever happy to see him.
“I’m flattered that Smuggles seems to think it will take four supervillains and their criminal organizations to bring me in but this is getting ridiculous,” Hatman said.
“Shut up!” the Mobster said snapping a meaty claw inches from Hatman’s face. “Do you, Hatman, surrender unconditionally to the Crime Consortium!”
{“We’d be happy to!”} Curly cheerfully announced at the same time.
“What?” Hatman said sharply, turning to look at his partner.
“What?” the assembled villains said, looking at each other in confusion. None of them had much experience with superheroes surrendering unconditionally to them.
{“I mean of course we’ll surrender to you guys. You beat us fair and square. It’s just that, and really this is such a small thing, Hatman and I are only going to unconditionally surrender to whomever is actually in charge here. I mean, you wouldn’t expect a top tier hero like Hatman to surrender to a henchman or some second stringer would you?”}
“No of course not, that’s fine. As leader of the Lob, the Lobster Mob, you will surrender to me then,” the Mobster announced proudly.
“Excuse me?” the three of the lizards said in unison. “Clearly the lizard mob will accept the surrender of these heroes.”
“What’s going on down there!” Dr. Python shouted. “Did he say that he would surrender to the Python Paramilitary?”
“Nah man, he said he’d only surrender to the head honcho which is of courses totes magotes, me, El Chad,” El Chad said proudly.
“You!” Dr Python shouted. “But you’re the worst!”
“How dare you!” El Chad shouted.
“How dare you!” the Mobster shouted. “Who even invited you to this!”
“One of your lobster boys tweeted about it!” El Chad shouted.
“That’s it!” Dr. Python shouted. “Python Paramilitary, show these goons who the real supervillain is!”
The combat gear clad men all pointed their guns at the other villains. Which caused the lizard-mob to launch into action, swiping and biting any Python soldier that got close to them. It wasn’t long before the Lob and El Chad and the two or three goats he had managed to swipe from How to Hero headquarters joined the fray.
{“That’s our cue to leave,”} Curly said as he slowly rose to his feet.
“Right behind you,” Hatman said as he superheated his gauntlets and melted the cuffs on his wrists.
Hatman undid Curly’s cuffs and the two of them ran away from the fight that was escalating in the street behind them.
“Hey you guys! You guys! They’re getting away!” Dr. Python shouted.
Unfortunately for them, the other villains were too busy fighting each other to hear him.
{“Where to? Back to the Hab?”} Curly asked when they were a safe distance away from the brawl.
“Not yet, another message came through right before we were attacked. It seems like Smuggles has given up on individual supply trucks manned by exploitable supervillains. There’s a huge unmanned train full of stuff coming through town soon.”
Curly nodded, {“Ok, so what do we do.”}
Hatman began walking in the direction of the city’s train tracks. “We stop them.”
“There it is,” Hatman said. Both he and Curly were perched on a rooftop overlooking a stretch of track that passed through Clifftown’s abandoned warehouse district.
{“I’m surprised we haven’t run into anymore villains on our way here,”} Curly mused. The duo had slowly made their way across the city. Dropping insulting notes with forged signatures of other supervillains in strategic locations so that the wandering squads of villains patrolling the city would eventually find them and succumb to infighting. But there didn’t seem to be any roving teams in this part of town.
“There are just about zero civilians living in this part of town. It’s mostly supervillain lairs honestly,” Hatman said. “There’s no reason for the villains to remain here now that they control everything else.”
{“Which makes it the perfect spot for us to make our move,”} Curly observed as he watched the train get closer.
“Exactly,” Hatman said as he checked his gear over once more. They were only going to get one shot at crippling Smuggles’ infrastructure. And Hatman wasn’t about to blow it. “You good to go?”
Curly patted his belt, they’d stocked up on explosives and other gear at one of the caches Hatman had hidden around the city. {“Oh yeah.”}
“Good, keep your beacon on at all costs. See you on the other side,” Hatman said before he dove off of the roof.
{“See you soon,”} Curly said as he unclipped his grappling gun and fired it at the train. {“If we survive.”}
Hatman hurtled toward the moving train at increasing speeds, grinning as he hurled a blocky and powerful magnet at the train’s roof. The magnet instantly connected to the roof and Hatman clicked his heels and wrists together, activating the internal magnets in each of them. The magnet on the train’s roof drew the magnets in Hatman’s appendages to it, ensuring that the falling Hatman kept pace with the moving train. Then, right before he connected with the speeding train’s roof and ended up becoming little more than a superheroic splat, Hatman reversed the polarity of the magnets in his costume. Which, when reacting with the large magnet on the train’s hull, dramatically slowed Hatman’s descent. Allowing him to land softly next to the magnet. After remagnetizing his boots to avoid falling off of the train, Hatman superheated his gauntlet and melted a hole in the train’s hull, which allowed him to breach the train’s exterior. Hatman jumped through the hole he’d burned and landed deftly inside the train. Checking his beacon, he was able to see that Curly had managed to breach the train’s caboose, as planned.
Hatman took stock of his own surroundings. The car he was in was filled with all manner of powerful weapons. Hatman shuddered at the thought of Smuggles and his Consortium getting their villainous hands on all of this firepower. He quickly removed an explosive from his belt and moved to attach it to the train’s wall.
“Ah ah Hatman. You’re not going to destroy this shipment,” a cold robotic voice taunted.
Hatman steeled himself for another fight. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.”
The wall closest to Hatman lit up. It’s a screen, Hatman observed. A cruel looking face flashed across it.
“Regardless Hatman, this is where your campaign comes to an end.”
“Nemesystem,” Hatman said, recognizing the voice. “You’re controlling the train.”
“Not just the train,” Nemesystem said, and the face projected on the wall winked at Hatman. Suddenly several of the weapons surrounding Hatman whirred to life and, floating up from their perches, aimed themselves at Hatman.
Hatman took stock of his situation. He was in a confined space with several weapons pointing at him, with both the space and the weapons being controlled and operated by an enemy that Hatman couldn’t physically overpower or subdue. Not a great situation, but he’d gotten out of worse. Nemesystem being in control of the train certainly complicated things though. Hatman had to hope that he could keep the evil AI occupied until Curly could set his explosives. Hatman moved quickly. He dropped half a dozen smoke bombs at his feet while affixing an oxygen mask from his belt onto his exposed mouth and nose. As the room filled with smoke, Hatman jumped up, grabbing onto a floating sniper rifle. He used the rifle to swing himself further upward as several of the weapons discharged, sending a hail of bullets every which way while Nemesystem tried to pinpoint Hatman’s location. Hatman knew that wouldn’t take the system long. The smoke was merely a temporary diversion for a being who didn’t actually have any eyes with which to see. As soon as Nemesystem was able to switch to infared or night vision Hatman would be in trouble again. He continued using different floating weapons as rungs to get him higher and higher until he could reach the car’s ceiling. Once he did he superheated his gauntlets and burned a circle in the ceiling, which caused a segment of it to fall to the floor. In an instant all of the weapons, including the floating alien plasma blaster Hatman was hanging onto fell to the floor. Converging on the fallen chunk of ceiling, which just so happened to have Hatman’s super magnet still stuck to it. Hatman once again activated the magnets in his boots and gauntlets, and, reversing the polarity once more, used the magnet to launch himself out of the weapons car into the next one down.
“Very clever, Hatman,” Nemesystem taunted, as the walls in this next car flashed to life, displaying Nemesystem’s digital visage on them as well.’
“Thanks,” Hatman grunted as he removed an explosive from his belt and allowed it to be sucked into the weapon’s car by the magnet. This car was filled with various treasures, and valuables. No tech, which meant there was nothing for Nemesystem to take control of. Hatman smirked and removed another explosive from his belt.
“You are far too smug,” Nemesystem said as several large guns and cannons emerged from the ceiling walls and floor of the train car.
Hatman ignored him, arming the explosive and letting it fall to the ground.
“These weapons are anti-ferrous, so your little magnet trick won’t work again. You see, for every time you thwart me I grow smarter. I learn your strategies and plans and reconfigure this train to combat them.”
“You don’t say,” Hatman said, tensing his leg muscles and taking stock of the crates of valuables that surrounded him.
A hail of laser fire emitted from the various cannons. Hatman expertly dodged them and then sprung at a nearby crate, quickly ripping the lid off of it and knocking it over, causing hundreds of diamonds to spill out onto the floor.
“Your fanciful acrobatics will not keep you alive for long,” Nemesystem said as the cannons recharged for another volley.
“Yeah, that’s clear to me,” Hatman said as he scooped up a handful of the precious stones. “Crystal clear.”
The cannons let off another round of laser fire and Hatman expertly hurled the diamonds at one of the turrets. The diamonds caused the laser fire to be refracted in multiple directions, overloading the other cannons. Hatman didn’t stick around for the show, he wrenched the door to the next car open and dove through it.
The next car, the last of the three Hatman was supposed to deal with was filled with combat drones of every make and model. Each of their faces had been replaced with the Nemesystem’s who grinned evilly at the hero. Hatman looked at his gauntlet, which displayed a countdown that was synched to those of the bombs he and Curly were planting. He only had about a minute left before this train went, and he and Curly needed to link up and throw themselves clear before then. That didn’t leave a ton of time for Hatman to deal with these robots. Hatman shrugged, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.
“What hat-shaped gadget will you deploy to deal with this problem Hatman?” Nemesystem taunted. “Remind me, do you humans have a hat that can wipe out one hundred and nineteen state of the art combat drones?”
Hatman didn’t waste any time responding; he simply removed a collapsible umbrella hat from his belt and opened it up to its full size. The “hat” was actually a brightly colored shield that Hatman could safely hide behind while he developed some sort of plan. All at once, the drones opened fire on the umbrella which absorbed and disperred the laser fire. Hatman backed up against a wall, cursing himself for not saving any of the diamonds from the last car. He felt the wall behind him and pressed his back flat against it, allowing the metal tips at the edges of the umbrella canopy to dig into the wall, essentially sealing Hatman in a laser proof dome.
“Curly come in!” Hatman shouted into his gauntlet.
Nothing but static came through the speaker. Hatman feared the worst, Nemesystem must have already gotten to Curly. Another Hatboy lost he thought glumly. Then he shrugged it off. If Curly was taken out then that meant Hatman needed to take out his cars in addition to this last one. It also meant he couldn’t afford to dawdle in this dome while the front half of the train exploded around him.
“Nowhere to run Hatman, I wonder, will you scream as I tear you apart limb from limb. Human screams fascinate me. Machines can’t seem to synthesize any sound that is quite as delicious.”
Hatman shuddered, he wasn’t going to give this cruel computer an ounce of satisfaction. Hatman shoved the umbrella forward, disconnecting it from the wall and barreled into the first wave of drones that had been attempting to breach his shield.
A crude, electronic attempt at a maniacal laugh crackled from speakers embedded all over the train car as the Nemesystem’s drones aimed their various onboard weapons at the hatted hero. Hatman raised his superheated fists, planning to simply punch his way through the robotic horde when suddenly the laughter cut out abruptly and the drones immediately clattered to the ground.
{“If you’re done messing around in here, it’s just about time to go,”} Curly said as he stood triumphantly over the fallen robots.
“Curly? How?” Hatman said at a loss for words.
Curly held up a slim silver device with the letters “HTH” carved into them. {“Standard issue How to Hero technology neutralizer. We all got them, after Dr. Brainwave accidentally brought all of the appliances to life and Parenthetical Guy almost got killed by the blender.”}
Hatman was at a loss for words. “What?”
{“It’s short range only, and it’s not very powerful. So while it can’t stop the train I’ve been able to keep Nemesystem from entering any of the cars I’ve been in. But we really need to jump, like now.”}
Hatman nodded and positioned himself at the far wall of the train car. “Turn that thing off… now!”
Curly quickly switched off the tech neutralizer and the drones started coming back to life. Hatman threw his last bomb into the crowd of drones and then melted a hole in the side of the train.
“Let’s move!” he shouted as Curly ran toward him and they both jumped out of the train.
They’d timed the operation so they’d leave the train as it was passing over the Clifftown bay. Of course, the bay was still frozen thanks to Friar Frostbite. Apparently Smuggles hadn’t seen it fit to undo this during his tenure. That was all well and good though, because, as expected an aviator-cap shaped jet was hovering right outside the train, waiting to catch the two heroes.
Only it didn’t swoop in and catch them. Hatman saw Curly’s eyes widen in fear. iOf course, Hatman thought. The neutralizer disabled our beacons. The plane’s onboard guidance system can’t find us.
Hatman and Curly locked eyes and then unclipped their grappling guns and fired them both at the plane as the train exploded in the distance.
{“So we each hooked onto one of the plane’s wings and it flew us away as the train exploded like: BOOM! KABLOW! ZAMMO!”}
(“Dude I cannot believe you got to fight villains and hang out with Hatman while I was stuck with friggin Jurassic Dork.”)
They were both sitting in the entrance hall of the Haberdashery, Ultiman had whisked Professor Paleontologist and Hatman into a closed door meeting so they could debrief him without the constant interruptions and interjections of the two bloggers. The new recruits from the Superhero School, along with the two Da Vincis, were off mingling with the other Resistance heroes.
{“What can I say, I’ve always been more of a fighter than you,”} Curly said.
(“Oh yeah? Well we’ll see how good of a fighter you are when I put you on mutant alligator feeding duty when we take back our office.”)
Curly started to retort but then he remembered something. {“We have someone on the inside!”} he blurted.
Parenthetical Guy was surprised (“What? Who?”)
Curly explained about the cryptic messages he and Hatman had received, {“He told me to ‘play Z VS PG’. That’s ‘Zach versus Parenthetical Guy’ it’s a game we play back at the office where we get the two of you to fight over who’s the real boss of How To Hero.”}
(“What, that’s a stupid game. It’s obviously me!”)
(“Oh… Oh! You think it might be Zach? You think he’s infiltrated the bad guys? Does that mean he’s ok?”)
Neither of them had heard from Zach since Smuggles had freed Chuck the Fish Whisperer and launched his villainous campaign against the world. Curly was starting to really worry about him and though they had never discussed it, Curly knew Parenthetical Guy was too.
{“I mean it could be! He’s still unaccounted for. He could have gotten away from Chuck and hidden out until he could embed himself in the Consortium and now he’s sending Hatman messages.”}
Parenthetical Guy scratched his goatee, (“I mean, it could b-”)
A heavy knock at the door drew them from their conversation. They both looked at each other in shock. Nobody was supposed to know this place existed. They looked around, they were the only people in the entrance hall.
The person on the other side of the door knocked again.
Ultiman, Hatman, and Professor Paleontologist burst out of the room where they were conducting their meeting and hurried to the door. As though they’d rehearsed it, Hatman and Professor Paleontologist pressed themselves up against either side of the door. Hatman had his hand on his belt, ready to unsheath some sort of gadget. Professor Paleontologist put a hand to his amulet. Ultiman glanced over his shoulder at Curly and Parenthetical Guy.
“Be ready for anything,” he said curtly, before opening the door. “Oh?”
Waiting for him outside was a veritable mob. But it didn’t seem to be the angry kind. Dozens of regular humans, along with all manner of sewer-mutants, werewolves, and vampires were gathered on Hatman’s stoop. Standing at their head was a large mud monster with glasses and a disheveled man in a rumpled suit wielding a swordfish.
Parenthetical Guy peeked his head around Ultiman and eyed the crowd, (“Lawyer Guy?”)
The disheveled man nodded [“The civilian brigade is reporting for duty. Can we come in?”]
“Attention prisoners, mandatory recreation time ends in ten minutes,” an electronic voice chirped.
The collected superheroes groaned. Recreation time wasn’t very fun, but it was the only time they were allowed out of their cells. Today’s activity was called “supervillain charades.” It was like regular charades, but you were only allowed to mime various crimes. The activity was overseen by Giorgio the Evil Mime and he was very strict. A tall, well-built man, strode onto the stage. A cowboy hat rested upon his head and was angled such that the top half of his face was shrouded in shadow. He had black nail polish on his fingers and a tattoo of himself riding a skateboard while playing an electric guitar on his left bicep. His name was Cowboy Rockstar and he’d had just about enough of Giorgio, Smuggles, and the whole lot of villains who had imprisoned him and so many of his superhero compatriots. He lifted his hat, revealing piercing blue eyes and made direct eye contact with another prisoner, a far less muscular man with a raggedy beard and glasses. Unlike the other heroes in the room, who had all been given garish supervillainish costumes to wear while in prison, this prisoner was clad in regular street clothes. A hoodie and jeans. He wasn’t forced to dress like a supervillain because he was not a superhero, and so the Consortium saw little value in trying to turn him into a villain. Which wasn’t to say that he wasn’t a valuable prisoner. Smuggles saw plenty of value in keeping him locked up. And Cowboy Rockstar saw plenty of value in teaming up with him.
Giorgio waved his arms frantically, signaling to Cowboy Rockstar that he’d better get started if he wanted to get his charade in before it was time for the heroes to be herded back into their individual cells.
Cowboy Rockstar kept his eyes locked on the prisoner in the hoodie and began his charade. He held up two fingers. Two words. He then held up one finger. First word. He squatted against the wall. Chairs, and other props, were wholly out of the question but Giorgio allowed use of the wall, the stage, and any other element of the space the heroes could think to use. With his back flat against the wall he lifted up his right foot and made like he was pressing on something with it.
Various heroes shouted out guesses.
“Brake,” the man in the hoodie muttered.
Cowboy Rockstar nodded and then held up two fingers. Second word. He then mimed opening a door and stepping through it.
“Door! Breaking down a door… of a bank!”
“Open! Break open! Breaking open someone’s… skull?”
Cowboy Rockstar shrugged and touched his nose, signalling that Rockblock had gotten it and causing the giant rock monster to whoop in delight. Cowboy Rockstar winked at the prisoner in the hoodie, who had understood what the hero was really getting at. The prisoner in the hoodie smiled faintly. Cowboy Rockstar was planning a break out, and he wanted Zach, self-proclaimed expert of all things superheroes, to help him do it.
