The Villain Virus

“You can’t have this, Julio!” she cried. “This is my destiny. I was meant to rule the world.”

“That’s not true! You’re infected with the virus, Ms. Holiday. You’re not evil. You’re my friend. You make me cupcakes. That’s your destiny!”

“You’re really the dumbest one of the bunch, Flinch,” Ms. Holiday said. “With you in charge, it’s no wonder the world fell apart. You can’t stop me. You can’t even control yourself!”

With a burst of her foot rockets she torpedoed toward him, but even with his limited supply of sugar he was still faster than her. He stepped out of the way and used her momentum to wrench the transmitter from her grasp. She flailed uncontrollably, slamming against the vein wall before she was swept away into the blood flow. All Flinch could do was watch.

“Which way does that tu

“That’s a direct path to the heart,” Hooper replied. “Sorry, man.”

Flinch watched the tu

“Buddy, you got two minutes!” Wyatt said. “You’re close to the mouth. Fight your way there and you can get out!” Flinch activated his laser and cut a hole in the vein wall, which he fell through clumsily. A moment later he was standing on a large, spongy mass, staring into a blinding light.

“Bro, you’re on the tongue. You are almost out,” Wyatt cheered, but the celebration came to a sudden stop. “Whoa! Dude, look out!”

All of a sudden, the Antagonist was on him. He aimed a powerful punch at Flinch’s helmet and knocked the boy loopy. Flinch struggled to fight off unconsciousness. He had never been hit so hard by anything or anyone. In his pain, he dropped the transmitter.

The Antagonist picked it up and caressed it gingerly, as if it were a precious treasure.

“The world is mine!” he laughed as he hefted Flinch into the air. The boy hung there helplessly, unable to free himself. “All mine!”

But his hands were still free. Flinch accessed the panel in his chest and reached in to get Hooper’s present—the can of spray paint. He held it up and sprayed it onto the Antagonist’s visor, blinding him. Flinch snatched the transmitter. While the Antagonist struggled to see, Flinch pushed a button on the front of the machine. The red light faded to black.

The transmitter was dead.

Flinch dropped it onto the tongue and stomped on it until it was nothing but rubbish.

The Antagonist pulled his helmet and mask off. Flinch recognized him at once. He was Heathcliff’s goon, the one they called Dumb Vinci. The former goon looked around, confused and disoriented.

“Where am I?”

Before Flinch could answer, there was a pop and a stretching sound, and suddenly they were big. Not their normal size, but big.

“What’s da big idea?” Dumb Vinci asked.

“Run!” Flinch shouted, and the two sprinted as fast as they could toward the light from Heathcliff’s huge open mouth. When the next wave of growth hit them, they were leaping through Heathcliff’s jaws and landing on the boy’s big stretched-out face. Another wave caused them to grow to the size of small children. They jumped again so that they were back in the holding cell as the final surge hit them. Flinch and the goon were normal size again.

The goon was so disoriented that it was easy for Flinch to put him in cuffs. While he did so, and much to Flinch’s surprise, an odd transformation was occurring in Heathcliff. His enormous head was shrinking and shrinking. His facial features shifted back to their normal size, and soon, he was just a little boy lying on a hospital gurney. A moment later he woke up and looked around.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“You’re in the Playground—or, rather, the new Playground,” Flinch said, eyeing him warily. Heathcliff was still dangerous, even without the giant head. “When you went to sleep, we were in the fifth grade. We’ve moved to the middle school now.”

“And who are you?”

Flinch took his containment helmet off and set it down. “Now do you recognize me?”

“No,” the boy said. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“I’m a friend. Do you know who you are?” Flinch asked.

The boy sat for a long moment. “No, I don’t.”

“Your name is Heathcliff.”

•    •    •

Agent Brand did not come to work the next day. The team went on with the business of cleaning up the school and the Playground, and, luckily, there were no major incidents that required their help. The world was peaceful for a moment as people struggled with the universal phenomenon of not being able to remember what they had been doing recently. It was a blessing in disguise, as most would have never been able to get over what they had done while under the influence of the villain virus.

The Antagonist—a.k.a. Dumb Vinci—was behind bars. Sherman Stoop got his job back on the security team. Mr. Miniature returned to his job at the supermarket. Justin Maines resumed his life as a dead body on television shows. Even Ms. Dove came to her senses, but not before she was transferred to a middle school in the darkest, coldest reaches of Siberia. Mama Rosa returned to her sweet, lovable self—and even apologized to Mrs. Valencia for years of bitterness.

And slowly the world returned to normal.

But Brand could not return to normal. When he finally did get back to the Playground, he was changed. The soft edges Ms. Holiday had been sculpting on him were sharp once more. His ability to see his agents as more than children was gone.

In one final act as director of the NERDS, he hired Wyatt, Hooper, Toad, and Jessie to be part of a new team called the Troublemakers, which had only one other member, a former assassin turned spy named the Hyena. Then he quit. He didn’t say good-bye to the children or to Dr. Kim or to the lunch lady. He was just gone, and no one, not even General Savage, knew where he went.

YOU DID IT! NOT ONLY ARE YOU A SUPERIOR PHYSICAL SPECIMEN, YOU HAVE LITTLE REGARD FOR YOUR OWN PERSONAL SAFETY AND HEALTH. THUS, YOU MAKE A FINE CANDIDATE TO BE A SECRET AGENT.

JUST BETWEEN YOU AND ME … WAS THE BEAR SCARY? I MEAN, I JUST MADE THAT UP OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD AND TOSSED IT INTO THIS BOOK. I NEVER THOUGHT YOU’D ACTUALLY DO IT. I BET IT HURT WHEN HE BIT YOU ON THE BUTT AND THOSE BIG CLAWS RIPPED YOUR FACE OFF. WELL, DON’T WORRY. MOST PEOPLE WILL HARDLY NOTICE THAT YOU DON’T HAVE A FACE. BESIDES, WHO NEEDS A FACE WHEN YOU ARE BUBBLING OVER WITH COURAGE?

Heathcliff lay in his bed, drifting off to sleep. It was nice to be around such friendly people who all seemed very concerned about him. Maybe one day soon he would get his memory back and remember them, but until then he would take it easy, just the way that nice Dr. Kim had suggested.

He was starting to dream when he felt something odd in his nose. On the table next to his bed was a box of tissues, and he snatched one. Even blowing as hard as he could, he couldn’t dislodge whatever it was, and worse, it seemed to be getting bigger.

He crawled out of bed and walked over to the washbasin at the far end of the room. There was a mirror hanging on the wall, so he flipped on the light and gave his nostrils a scan. Whatever was stuck up there was moving on its own, and it was starting to hurt. He could see it was pushing under the skin like a big round ball. Desperate, he blew his nose once more and this time something popped out.