The Great Powers Outage (5 page)

“This guy is dangerous,” I said as I turned to look at my parents. The expressions on their faces were as blank as could be.

“I see your point, dear,” my mother responded without even looking at Dad. “We do need to buy more of these chips. They'll even make us more attractive.”

“And smarter,” my father added dully.

Before I could get a grip on what had just happened, my parents bolted from the room and then from the house. Despite the sixty cans of potato chips already sitting in our kitchen, they were heading out to buy more! What had gotten into them? With worry welling up from the pit of my stomach, I turned back to the TV just as the grinning face of Comrade Crunch vanished from the screen.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Curious Case of Comrade Crunch

Something was horribly wrong. Crazy, illogical behavior from my father wasn't anything unusual. But from my mother, it was a different story. She almost always kept her cool, as one would expect from a hero named Snowflake. And she never willingly went along with Dad's nutty ideas. But that's exactly what had happened today.

I glanced at the clock. It was just about time for the regular weekly emergency meeting of the Junior Leaguers. There was something fishy about Comrade Crunch and I was going to need the help of my friends to figure out what it was.

When I arrived at our headquarters—the tree house in Stench's backyard—my friends were already gathered. Surrounding them were dozens of canisters of Amazing Indestructo Pseudo-Chips.

“I know we aren't supposed to be doing anything to support AI,” Plasma Girl said with a guilty shrug as she misinterpreted the look of concern on my face, “but we couldn't help ourselves.”

“I think we should make Comrade Crunch our new favorite hero,” Halogen Boy suggested. “You know . . . instead of AI.”

“These chips are fantastic,” Tadpole agreed. “How do you suppose AI managed to outdo Dr. Telomere's?”

That's what I wanted to know. These chips weren't “fantastic.” They didn't taste bad, exactly, but they certainly didn't taste like real potato chips. And even if they had, it didn't explain this sudden mania that had gripped everyone.

“What made you guys go out and buy all these chips?” I asked.

“It was Comrade Crunch,” Halogen Boy explained as his natural glow began to brighten. “He was on TV all morning talking about them.”

“It's true.” Stench nodded. “He was talking about how Pseudo-Chips can enhance our powers.”

“What made you believe that?” I pressed. “Was it just because he said it?”

“It must be true,” Hal said quietly. “It was on TV.”

“I thought we had figured out that most of what's on TV isn't true by the time we were ten,” I sputtered.

“Comrade Crunch wouldn't lie,” Tadpole asserted as if he were defending his own grandfather.

“Guys! Comrade Crunch is the one who is behind all this!” I finally blurted out my suspicion. “And I think it's time we learned a little bit more about him.”

I pulled out my copy of the
Li'l Hero's Handbook
and flipped it open to the letter C.
The Codpiece,
Collapso, the Collector, the Comforter . . . ! Concreto!
He wasn't there. For the first time ever, I had found someone who did not have an entry in the
Li'l Hero's
Handbook
! How could that be? Unless it wasn't his real name. But then who was Comrade Crunch?

Just then pandemonium erupted all around us, and it looked like there were people everywhere! Our heads were spinning as we tried to focus on them. Then, just as quickly, they all came together in the form of a single person standing in front of us—a very
fast
person. One that none of us was happy to see.

“It's my brother's friend Zitty,” Stench said, completely enraged. “Get out of our headquarters, you creep!”

“The name is
Zippy
,” the teenage delinquent said as the acne on his face merged into a bright red flush of anger. “And don't forget it, Fart Face.”

The speedy jerk whipped back into motion and attacked Stench from all sides at once. He was too fast for Stench to get hold of, and Zippy had soon maneuvered him to the entrance of our tree house. There Stench had no choice but to climb down to escape the older boy's pummeling blows. I clenched my own fists in frustration. If I had still possessed my Meteor Boy jet pack, Zippy would have been no match for me. But my brief stint having a power was behind me.

The four of us were left alone in our headquarters, but not for long. A second later Stench's brother, Fuzz Boy, popped his head through the same entry that Stench had just been driven out of.

“What have we here?” he said as he lunged for Halogen Boy. He soon had his hands all over Hal's face and body, and blond hair began to sprout everywhere.

“Stop it, you creep,” Plasma Girl screeched, but Fuzz Boy just reached out and covered her mouth with his hand. She instantly reduced herself to a pool of goo and escaped.

Fuzz Boy looked at his empty hand in surprise. A moment later that expression turned to shock as Tadpole's tongue snaked around his torso, trapping his arms against his body. The clever move backfired, though, when Fuzz Boy got an arm loose and grabbed Tadpole's tongue. As hair began sprouting, Tadpole loosened his tongue in panic and Fuzz Boy got his other arm free, too. Then, to Tadpole's complete horror, Fuzz Boy began working his way hand over hand up the length of the tongue.

“Let's get out of here, guys,” I hollered in desperation. I guided a dazed Halogen Boy through the door in the floor and followed right after him. Tadpole finally freed his tongue from Fuzz Boy's grasp and came tumbling after us, while Plasma Girl oozed her way through a crack in the floor.

Outside, amid the piles of scrap in his dad's junkyard, Stench was still warding off blows as Zippy darted around him.

“Stench,” I yelled. “Retreat!”

He heard me and reluctantly ran after us. By the time we reached the street, Zippy had stopped pursuing. He'd probably gone back to plunder our tree house with Fuzz Boy.

“We gotta go back and take care of those creeps!” Stench fumed.

“No way,” Plasma Girl said in disgust as she rematerialized. She only then realized that she had a thick beard where Fuzz Boy had covered her mouth with his hand. “Look what that creep did to me! He even got my lips!”

“Wht abt me?” Tadpole mumbled as best he could. He was holding about six feet of furry tongue that he refused to draw back into his mouth.

“I look like a giant fuzz ball,” was all Hal would say.

“We can't go back without a plan,” I insisted. “And we can't make a plan until the effects of this attack have worn off. What use would Hal or Tadpole be in their current condition? For now let's just get as far away as possible.”

Considering how strange some people in Superopolis look, we didn't get too many stares as Stench and I accompanied our hair-covered trio of friends toward downtown and Lava Park. That seemed as good a place as any to hang out while we waited for them to return to normal.

When we reached the park, we headed for the entrance near the Inkblot's newspaper stand. As we passed by it, something caught Tadpole's eye and he stopped and reached for a display of disposable razors.

Just as I was about to advise him against shaving his tongue, a small headline near the bottom of the front page of
The Weekly Daily
caught my eye. It announced RED MENACE PAROLED. There was something awfully familiar about that name, and it suddenly came back to me that I had heard a number of older heroes mention it in passing recently. Given the slowness with which
The Weekly Daily
reported the news, I knew this parole could have happened a while ago.

“It's high time they let him out,” the Inkblot spoke, interrupting my thoughts. “After all, he never really did any harm.”

I glanced at the article. It stated that the Red Menace had been sentenced to 1,636 years in prison, but had just been paroled for good behavior after serving only fifty. Maybe I'm naive, but criminals who do no harm normally don't get put behind bars for 1,636 years.

“But just a couple of weeks ago, you told us he was one of the worst criminals in the history of the city,” Plasma Girl pointed out. She was right—it was the Inkblot himself who had first mentioned the Red Menace to us the day we were here searching for one of the elusive Professor Brain-Drain collector cards.

“Oh, I'm sure I didn't say anything like that,” scoffed the Inkblot. “The Red Menace only had good intentions when it came to the people of Superopolis.”

“Then why does he have the word ‘menace' in his name?” Halogen Boy asked with a perplexed look on his furry face.

The Inkblot glanced at him and the rest of our team, and a frown creased his face.

“The only menace to this city is young beatniks like you, with your crazy hair and far-out notions.” The Inkblot raised his hands, fingers spread wide, and began waving them crazily. “Wild hair and wild ideas will be the ruin of society.”

Well, he had a point about the hair. But before we could explain our run-in with Fuzz Boy, he continued with his rant.

“The Red Menace wanted to unite all Superopolis behind a single glorious vision, and with the help of Captain Radio, the greatest hero of my generation, he almost succeeded.”

“But his plan was foiled, wasn't it?” I added.

“Yes, dabnab it,” he replied, “by that consarned League of Goodness.”

“But they're the real heroes,” Stench insisted. “You thought so yourself just a couple weeks ago.”

“He'th been brainwathed,” Tadpole managed despite his hair-coated tongue.

Tadpole was right. Well, not about the Inkblot being
brainwathed
, but he most certainly had been
brainwashed
. It was a pattern that was becoming all too familiar.

I reached for my
Li'l Hero's Handbook
, and flipped to the Red Menace. I found an entry that described a villain who was the exact
opposite
of the hero that the Inkblot was attempting to portray. While the picture showed a somewhat younger man, there was no mistaking what I was seeing. The Red Menace and Comrade Crunch were one and the same.

LI'L HERO'S HANDBOOK

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