The Villain Virus

Flinch cringed. It was already hard being in charge, but to not have the confidence of the team was quite another thing. The truth was, Pufferfish should have been in charge. She had the most experience, and she was good at it. He wanted to just let her take over, but he suspected giving up would land him in hot water with Agent Brand.

“OK—Gluestick and Braceface should race around the block and come at him from the left. Matilda and I will go the other way and come at him from the right. Once we’ve got him surrounded we’ll do what we do best.”

“What do I do?” Pufferfish asked.

“You’re the bait,” he said. “You lure him into the intersection and keep him distracted.”

“Whatever!” Matilda cried.

“Huh?”

“This plan sounds like a way for you to hog all the glory for yourself,” she said. “Typical Flinch.”

Everyone turned to Wheezer. She had a sharp tongue, but it was rarely aimed at a teammate.

“Um, there’s nothing typical about it,” Flinch said. “This uses everyone’s talents, and—”

“Hardly. It makes you the center of attention,” Matilda grumbled. “We all saw how you undermined Pufferfish with Agent Brand. You practically stole the leadership of the team.”

“What?” Flinch said. “That’s not true. I didn’t ask for this. I’m no leader.”

“Don’t I know it!” Matilda cried. “And it’s about time you handed over the reins to someone who is!”

Flinch hadn’t been in an argument like this since Heathcliff was on the team. Choppers, as he was called back then, spent most of his time questioning orders and grousing about his jobs. Matilda was always eager to be part of the plan. This was so unlike her that it left him and the others speechless.

Matilda wiped her brow. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. This is a good plan.”

Pufferfish nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Flinch turned the knob on his harness and felt the energy fill his limbs. Once Matilda had used her inhalers to fly into the air, he leaped out of the buggy and ran down the street to follow her.

After a few turns, they came up squarely behind their target. Mr. Miniature was firing his ray gun with wild abandon, shrinking everything in sight. A taxicab was suddenly the size of a toy car. A hot dog cart was as small as a dollhouse. Even a gigantic red double-decker tour bus was abruptly no larger than a Twinkie. Flinch shuddered to think about the people in those vehicles, suddenly finding themselves very tiny and being shoved into a sack. Miniature had to be stopped.

“I’ll take him at his knees and you go for the ray gun,” Flinch said.

“What kind of imbecile are you?” Matilda snarled. “Your silly little ideas smell of foolishness! I am the brains on this team. You should be listening to me!”

Again Flinch was taken aback. “Huh? What is wrong with you?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong! I have to work with a bunch of morons and nincompoops and I’m expected to keep my mouth shut and not say a word. Well, I’ve had it! I’m not the kind of person who takes orders from an incompetent ape.”

“Wheezer, um, there’s a mad scientist shrinking everything,” Flinch said. “Can we talk about this later?”

“NO!” Matilda turned her inhalers on Flinch and fired. A red-hot blast of sound and light hit him right in the chest and he flew backward, slamming into a wall. His head throbbed as he staggered to his feet in a pile of brick and dust. His harness had absorbed much of the impact, but he wasn’t invulnerable. Matilda’s attack had hurt a lot.

Wheezer aimed her inhalers at him a second time, but Flinch wasn’t about to give her another shot. He took off, going from zero to sixty miles per hour in two seconds, sending trash into the air behind him.

“This is the bait! What’s going on back there?” Pufferfish’s voice said in his head.

“Something’s wrong with Wheezer!” Flinch shouted.

“Don’t call me that name! Wheezer is no name for someone as important as me. From now on, you will call me the Asthmatic Assassin.”

“Did I hear that right?” Gluestick shouted over the com-link.

“Concentrate on the bad guy,” Flinch said. “I’ll take care of what’s-her-name.”

Wheezer’s inhalers fired again, nearly taking Flinch’s head off. He survived only by jumping straight into the air, soaring twenty feet up, then using his incredible strength to dig his fingers into the side of a nearby building. He clung there like a spider until Matilda spotted him. She fired again, and he sprang higher, clawing into the brick with his feet and hands.

“You think you can get away?” Wheezer seethed. “You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but we’re not here to fight each other,” Flinch said. “We’re supposed to be stopping a bad guy. You need to get control of yourself!”

“I’m in control of myself for the first time in my life!”

“Buddy, we’ve got a big problem,” Gluestick replied. “Miniature is attacking us!”

Suddenly, a pink light enveloped the Empire State Building. Craning his neck, Flinch saw the light reaching all the way from the ground to the very top.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

And then, one of the tallest buildings in New York City—in the world, even—shrank to the size of a shoe box. Mr. Miniature plucked it off the ground and shoved it into his bag. He laughed an insane, high-pitched cackle and shook his fists in the air in triumph.

“Attention, world! I am the master manipulator of size and shape. Today’s demonstration is just the first of many! Soon, I will shrink all of your most precious landmarks—Mount Rushmore! The White House! The Taj Mahal! To get them back, you will have to pay my ransom. Empty your pockets and turn over all control of the world to me in twenty-four hours—or else. I’d say it’s a bargain!”

Flinch hardly had time to process what had just happened, because Wheezer’s attack didn’t stop for a moment. She made a beeline straight for him.

He dug into the wall and braced himself for the fiery spray of her inhalers—then he got an idea. He crushed the bricks in his hands into powder and tossed the dust into her face. It blinded her and she flailed in the sky, scratching at her eyes.

While she was distracted, Flinch jumped down from the side of the wall. On the street, he opened his backpack and pulled out the invisible parachute. He shook it open and held it the way a matador holds a red cloak out to an angry bull. He just hoped he didn’t get run over by this particular bull.

“Hey, Wheezer. I’m over here!” he shouted.

Still rubbing her eyes, Wheezer turned in midair and flew in the direction of his voice. Her flight was erratic, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous. He shouted again, hoping to steer her with the sound of his voice. When she was nearly on top of him, he tossed the parachute directly at her. The fabric wrapped around her and she slammed into the ground. Flinch heard a groan and then nothing. After a moment he peered inside. His friend was still breathing but seemed to be out cold.

“You stay here, Wheezer,” he said. He tied the ends of the parachute into a knot so it formed a bag around Wheezer, then looked for the rest of his team. He spotted them several blocks away. They were tracking Mr. Miniature, who had moved his reign of terror in the direction of Times Square. Flinch raced to catch up to his friends, guessing that Miniature was going to take a few more landmarks for his collection.

“Put your ray gun down!” Pufferfish demanded, dodging a blast from Mr. Miniature’s weapon and kicking him in the calf. “You’re under arrest!”

“Yeah,” Braceface said. He was trying to snatch the bag of miniaturized items with his braces, which had morphed into claws. “You’re in big trouble.”

“Did they send children to stop me?” Miniature cried as he turned his weapon on Braceface. “How appropriate that pint-size heroes are sent to stop the Terrorist of Tiny!”