#smuggles

Cue the music. 

We arrived in a flash of light so bright that it would’ve blinded us, had Glassesman not been able to provide all with some—and I am admitting this very begrudgingly, because that man is a tool—very cool sunglasses. Glassesman, as it turned out, was actually a secret superhuman. Though with the power to spontaneously generate any kind of eyewear, it was unsurprising that he presented as a non-powered hero. It may very well be that this had been the only time he’d seen fit to use his abilities while acting as a superhero. And man was it working for us. The only way we could’ve looked cooler strolling out of our jury-rigged portal is if Rockblock hadn’t been wearing a bright red t-shirt that read “I GOT EATEN BY A GIANT MONSTER AND LEARNED ALL ABOUT THE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM” over a picture of a cartoonish stomach giving a thumbs up. It also might have helped if anybody had actually been looking at us. But nooooo our grand entrance was wasted because everybody else was fighting for the fate of the Earth. Oh well.

We were surrounded on all sides by an all-out brawl of biblical proportions. All around me I could see every manner of superhuman, monster, and even dozens of civilians, waging war against a garishly-clad gaggly of supervillains who were aided by a much smaller coterie of monsters, but a large contingent of ghosts, zombies, and skeleton warriors. 

“I need to go find Ultiman,” Cowboy Rockstar said before charging directly into the center of the fray. As he ran I saw two glowing six-shooters manifest in his hands and he began firing expertly at the evil army ahead of him. In the blink of an eye, the rest of my compatriots sprung into action as well. Helm Lady and Glassesman expertly disarmed the nearest supervillains, and stole their weapons, giving them the firepower they needed to charge into battle alongside the rest of the assembled resistance. Rockblock instinctively threw his prodigious bulk in front of Professor Flay and I to protect us from any stray bullets, snakes, or explosive fish. 

“Thanks,” I said. “Now do you think you can get rid of that shirt? I don’t want one of my guys to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Rockblock said sternly. “You heard those guys, they have zero advertising budget on account of the fact that they don’t have any money at all. Word of mouth is the only way they can get more people to come see their show.”

Professor Flay shuddered, “It’s definitely by mouth, but I’m not sure if words have anything to do with it.”

I looked at him sympathetically, my Plan B hadn’t been the safest way to get out of Smuggles’ clutches. Or the sanest. Or the most sanitary. But hey, I’d done it hadn’t I? And I bet you’ve all been sitting on the edge of your seats for what feels like a year waiting for me to explain how we managed it. So here goes: Long time readers of my world-famous, highly successful blog, How To Hero, might recall that in my guide to being eaten by a monster I wisely suggested being swallowed whole. If you’re swallowed in one go, you don’t have to worry about trying to escape the belly of a beast while bleeding out or not having limbs. Thankfully Smuggles’ big, scary monster obliged us. But then, it had been well trained to do exactly that. If you’ve checked out that post on being eaten by monsters, you might also recall that I have been eaten by a monster before. A monstrosity sometimes called Dr. Brainwave’s Greatest Shame, so named because Dr. Brainwave, our supervillain correspondent/unwelcome tenant, was trying to create a living weapon of mass destruction but ended up creating a monster who acted like an overactive and overeager puppy. She is also known as Sprinkles, so named because she loves sprinkle donuts. But who doesn’t. Anyhow, the monster also had a healthy appetite for just about everything else, which proved…interesting when she broke into Dr. Brainwave’s lab and ate just about everything in there, including a vial of sentientum, which—you guessed it—grants things a heightened degree of sentience and intelligence. Unfortunately for Sprinkles, the substance is supposed to be applied topically, not internally, and while Sprinkles did not get an intelligence boost, all of her internal organs did. And it turns out they’re all theater kids and they spend their time writing musicals about monster biology and what they imagine the world is like outside of the giant monster they’re trapped in. Having now watched two of their shows, I’ve gotta say, they’re not great. 

Now, when I’d goaded Smuggles into feeding us to a giant monster, I was reasonably certain that there was somebody inside of Smuggles’ Consortium of Crime who was looking out for me. An assumption that was proven correct when Sprinkles turned out to be the giant monster selected to devour us. There are some that might say that that was far too big of a risk to take in pursuit of freedom, many of them were inside the monster with me, but we made it didn’t we? All we needed to do was navigate through Sprinkles’ digestive system, sit through a two hour musical called How the Hell Does A Digestive System Work When All of the Organs Involved in it are Alive? Also, What Does the Sky Look Like? and then commandeer a short-range teleporter that the organs used to get around inside of Smuggles that they had patched together from random tech Sprinkles had eaten. Were there better ways to escape our predicament? Hard to say, but I did what I had to do.

“I don’t suppose you’re ready to tell us who your supposed inside man is, are you?” Professor Flay asked.

“I… I’m not actually sure who they are,” I admitted. 

(“Zach?”)

I whipped around. I’d know that voice anywhere of course, but there were a fair few villains out there who could mimic a voice. Sure enough though, a gangly, goateed man was running toward me. He was dressed in an ill-fitting red jumpsuit with a matching red domino mask that appeared to have been made out of cardboard. Excellent disguise notwithstanding, I recognized Parenthetical Guy immediately. 

“Hey—” I started to say before being wrapped up in a bear hug.

“Hey, buddy. It’s good to see you too,” I said as I returned the embrace.

(“Er, hello, citizen. It is I, a superhero…named…Random Civilian Hugger—”)

“Sure.”

(“Yes, that’s it! Secret identity intact for sure.”)

“Random Civilian Hugger really isn’t the great superhero name you think it is,” Professor Flay said.

(“Who the heck is this guy?”)

“This is Professor Lucius Flay—”

(“Oh! The dude with that book, Big Book of Fake Science!”)

“It turns out it’s not actually called that,” I said, interjecting quickly before Flay could respond.

“Hey, do you guys wanna maybe take this somewhere else?” Rockblock said. “I’ve been shot like fifty times since I started sheltering you guys. I’m fine, obviously, but I don’t want this shirt to get torn to shreds before everyone else gets a chance to see it.”

(“Oh, hello, fellow superhero Rockblock. Didn’t see you there. Legit thought you were a big wall. You’re just so large…and…chiseled.”)

“Focus,” I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face.

(“Right, right. Gael Obstrovesky and his people have set up a command center in that building over there.”)

A fifty-foot tall neon-green stegosaurus with a widow’s peak and vampire fangs crashed into the street in front of us, leaving a large crater where he’d impacted.

“Yeah, that seems like as good a place as any to wait this all out,” I said.

Professor Flay vigorously nodded his assent and Rockblock wished us luck as he charged off to deal with the vampiric dinosaur, who was beginning to come to his senses.

“Put ‘em up, Chives!” Rockblock bellowed.

“Ah, Rockblock, ve meet again. Remind me, vhat does your blood taste like?” the dinosaur replied, licking his lips.

“It tastes like molten %$#& lava, big boy!” Rockblock shouted as he slammed into the villain.

Parenthetical Guy, Professor Flay and I kept our heads down and ran off in the direction of the makeshift command center.

“Bring us up to speed PG,” I said as we skirted past two dueling swordsmen. One of them, the hero Goodknight, was clad in navy armor and wielded a gleaming crystal sword and was possessed of both perfect form and poise. The other, the villainous Stabulous Sven, hacked away furiously with two swords that were covered in psychedelic swirls and bursts. His matching tunic and…shorts were an eye-searing purple and yellow. Their fight was interrupted when a werewolf and the handful of zombies he was wrestling with fell off a passing double-decker bus and landed directly between them. As we passed, I saw Goodknight extend a hand down toward the werewolf, help him up, and then wordlessly trade opponents. Each easily taking down the other’s former sparring partner. 

“This is incredible,” Professor Flay said. “Heroes and monsters, fighting side by side.

I had to agree with him, for too long the superheroes of our world had held themselves above and aloof from many of the magical and mythical creatures that populated the world. Too often, heroes tended to misunderstand or assume the worst of monsters and the ensuing fights had done seemingly irreparable damage to interspecies relations. It was nice to see so many superheroes and monsters fighting alongside one another for the greater good. And to think it was all because of me and my blog post about monsters who buck conventional stereotypes. I wonder if they’ll give me a metal or something. Two metals. One from the superheroes and one from the monsters. That seems fair.

When we reached the command center, Parenthetical Guy performed several increasingly complex knocks on the front door. Eventually, the door swung open and a stern-faced man in a lab coat stood in the entryway. 

“For cripes’ sake would you just come in already?” Professor Mitch Fueller said.

(“Sorry about all that. I couldn’t remember the secret knock,”) Parenthetical Guy said, shooting me a wink, earning him a frown.

“There is no secret knock. What are you talking abou—ah, Professor Flay, good to see you!”

“Good to see you too, Professor Fueller,” Professor Flay said as Fueller ushered us into  

the building.  

“Where have you been? When I didn’t see you at the Haberdashery, I’d feared the worst,” Fueller said as he led us up the stairs to where Gael and the other support-types had set up shop.

“Yes, well, it’s actually quite a story. Smuggles had us held in a prison he’d set up…in Atomspace.”

Fueller whistled, “Atomspace. That’s no joke, I’m sure Gael and Professor Von Iguanadon are going to want a full debrief on that. But how did you escape? Are there still others there?”

“We escaped by goading Smuggles into feeding us to a giant monster and then borrowing a teleporter that had been built by some sentient monster organs,” I said.

(“Oh hey! You found Sprinkles?”)

Professor Fueler frowned and then looked at the two of us as though he was just noticing we were there.

“Ah, Parenthetical Guy, why is it that I always find you in the company of my esteemed friends and colleagues?”

(“It’s because I’m basically a smart-brain professor myself.”)

Professor Fueller wrinkled his nose as though he’d smelled something foul. And since Flay and I had just wended our way through a monster’s digestive system, it was quite possible that he had. Then he turned his withering gaze upon me and I did my best to look as scholarly as possible. Which is no easy task when you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie and, as I’ve mentioned, just popped out of a monster’s stomach after spending a month or so in prison.

“And you are?”

“My name is Zach, and I’m the one who got your esteemed friend and colleague along with half a dozen other superheroes out of a microscopic prison.”

Professor Fueller turned his nose up as we reached the top of the stairs. “Oh, you’re the blogger.”

(“He’s not a fan,”) Parenthetical Guy whispered to me.

“People who meet you first rarely are,” I replied.

We stepped onto a ramshackle, poorly-lit floor filled with all manner of hustle and bustle. Dozens of people ran around clutching clipboards, electronic tablets, and stacks of paper, ferrying them between different computer stations that had been set up around the room. The wall opposite where we were standing was taken up by a massive viewscreen that had been split up to show feeds from multiple different cameras drones that were apparently flying around the battle going on outside. People were barking orders and suggestions into radios all around us, directing troops or summoning aid or alerting the heroes outside to weak points that had been noticed among the enemy forces. Gael Obstrovesky stood in the center calling out orders and typing furiously into a floating keyboard that followed him wherever he went. At first, I couldn’t tell where any of his typing was actually going until I noticed that the lenses in his glasses were actually small transparent screens. It was Gael’s glasses that reminded me that I was still wearing my cool “product of Glassesman’s body but don’t think about that for too long” sunglasses. I quickly slipped them off and put them in my pocket, and suddenly the room wasn’t poorly lit any longer.

“Where’re Curly and Lawyer Guy?” I asked after surveying the room and ascertaining that they weren’t there. A moment of panic washed over me. Had I accidentally left two of my own men in Atomspace while rescuing the likes of Glassesman, secreter of glasses? But Parenthetical Guy put me at ease, sort of.

(“Oh, them? They’re big time heroes now. Curly’s teamed up with Hatman—”)

“What? Again?”

(“Yeah, turns out Hatman doesn’t even remember the first time. But they’ve been making quite a team, they blew up a train earlier this week.”)

“Huh, you don’t say.”

(“Yeah, and Lawyer Guy and Murk actually got the monsters and a bunch of the civilians you see in here on the side of the resistance. They were actually pretty inspiring. Oh, hey there’s LG now.”)

Parenthetical Guy pointed to one of the screens where video of our very own lawyer coldcocking the actual supervillain Literal Devil, who should not be confused with the actual devil, who presumably was locked up somewhere in Hell along with the other warlords of that realm thanks to Greg the Skeleton King’s hostile takeover. 

“Whoa, what happened to him?”

(“Apparently one of the partners at his firm turned out to be Perry the Pirate—”)

“I’d heard he’d gone straight.”

(“Turns out he was just waiting for Chuck the Fish Whisperer’s grand return. Lawyer Guy ended up going toe to toe with him on the table of their fancy lawyer conference room. He got a cool swordfish out of it and everything.”)

“He won?”

(“Hard to say, LG disarmed him but then Perry threw himself out a window and nobody’s seen him since. Our best guess is he’s in our office with the rest of Smuggles’ inner circle.”)

On one of the screens, I saw a school bus bust through a barricade, sending a couple of supervillains diving for cover. I couldn’t see who was driving the bus but I noticed Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man, arm cannons akimbo, perched on top of the bus firing off super-sonic-plasma blasts at the fleeing supervillains. 

Gael walked by us spewing orders rapidfire into his earpiece. “Flaming Head Guy, Jhonny McBarnburner just set a barn on fire about two blocks from here. No, I don’t know where the barn came from. Hold on—” Gael stopped short in front of us. “Somebody figure out where that barn came from! If it’s a reality warper, Chester I want you to come up with a response plan. If it’s a teleporter, Christine, that’s yours.”

“Yes sir!” came a chorus of voices from around the room.

“My people are on it, you still with me? Good, get to the barn and absorb the fire. Show Jhonny what a real pyrokinetic looks like. Don’t make a big thing about it, I don’t want anybody else diverting attention to this thing. The villains are just trying to pull our focus away from the main battle. Over and out.”

Gael typed something on his keyboard and then looked in our direction.

“The blogger,” he said coldly.

I nodded, Parenthetical Guy did finger guns. I’m not going to lie, Gael Obstrovesky was one of my personal heroes. He commanded a worldwide network of information gatherers, and made sure it got to the heroes who needed it most when they needed it. If How To Hero was a guide to being a superhero, Gael’s organization, G.U.Y. I.N. T.H.E. C.H.A.I.R. was a continuous course on how to actually do the most good. He had literally thousands of heroes in his network, all of whom respected him and his team and took his advice without question. Gael was my hero, and the fact that he knew who we were was no small honor. Presumably, our blog was one of the many places he got data and information from. I can only imagine how many heroes he’d directed to our small corner of the internet so that they could best serve the world. I stood up a little straighter, smoothened out my hoodie, and stuck out my hand.

“Welcome to the Hub, I understand this is entirely your fault.” 

Ouch, that’s not how I expected that to go. He didn’t even shake my hand.

“That seems like an oversimplification,” I stammered.

But Gael was already preoccupied with some new crisis. 

“Hurricane Hank, we need you to manipulate air currents in sector B13, Gaskid just unleashed a bevy of stink bombs. It won’t be fatal but we’re estimating that our people in that area will operate with 30% less efficiency if that’s not cleared away soon. Thank you.” 

On a screen, I saw the super-hearing superhero ’Earo stationed on a rooftop next to the hero Arrow Man, it appeared as though Arrow Man was firing blindly into the fray, until I noticed ’Earo’s lips moving, he must’ve been using his super-hearing to identify targets for Arrow Man. Saving the archer time and allowing him to focus on making all twenty-three of the arrows in his quiver count.

Gael turned back to us.

“Normally, I might agree with you. I find it hard to believe that your blog could inspire so much ire in a person that they would make deals with every single supervillain on the planet along with two gods but, unfortunately for you, Smuggles basically left us a signed note on your blog explaining that that was indeed the case.”

“He did what?”

That was just unacceptable. It was bad enough that Smuggles had taken over our headquarters. It was pretty rude that he’d shrunken me down and placed me in a prison of my own design. And you know what? Yeah, I’ll say it: It was uncool of him to take over the Earth. But taking over my blog? Using my carefully, painstakingly cultivated platform to espouse whatever nonsense megalomaniacs espouse? Unacceptable.

(“Oh, yeah. He laid out exactly how we drove him from small-potatoes villainy to big-potatoes villainy. And there’s more—”)

“What could be worse than that?” I bemoaned.

Parenthetical Guy looked down at the ground for a moment and when he looked up there was an expression I didn’t recognize etched across his features. For the moment, the carefree slacker was gone, the eternal smirk had been wiped away and in its place, an expression of genuine pain. 

(“He… He admitted to killing Dr. Brainwave.”)

“Ah,” I said. “All right, let’s take this guy down.” I turned to Gael to ask him something but he was already deep in conversation with Professor Flay. After a moment he whipped around and started barking orders again.

“All right people, Professor Flay just briefed me on his daring jailbreak. I’ve inputted any information you need to know on your monitors. You can read about the rest in the tell-all book I’m sure he’ll be writing once this is all done. Or perhaps an inane blog post that our other new guest here is probably writing as we speak—”

“Um, you can see me, right? You know I’m not writing a blog post,” I said, holding out my hands.

“Rockblock, Glassesman, Helm Lady and Cowboy Rockstar have joined the fray. Power like that is sure to shift the balance of this war in our favor. It’s up to us to make sure that the power is placed where we need it to do the most good.”

On one of the screens I saw Glassesman staring down the Cyber-Giants Nuke-Borg, Murdertron, and 01001000 01110101 01100111 01101111 01110100 01110010 01101111 01101110. To say he was out of her depth was an understatement. I was about to say something to Gael when a flurry of motion left the three robots in pieces. Standing above their dismantled remains stood an older looking man with a flowy white beard holding a high-tech looking wrench and wearing old-looking clothes, and what appeared to be a robot duplicate of him. The robot hurried over to Nuke-Borg, extracting the nuclear reactor from what remained of the giant robot’s chest, and…assimilated it into its own body.

(“That’s Leonardo da Vinci and his robot clone from the future,”) Parenthetical Guy whispered to me. (“I recruited them.”)

Well, that’s certainly not something I expected to hear, but all right! I was about to respond when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flurry of movement. I turned to see a couple of Gael’s people posting up a few sticky notes on one of the rare portions of wall that wasn’t covered in screens.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked.

“We’re keeping track of who’s out there,” Professor Fueller said.

“By hand?” I asked.

“We’re not wasting a screen on something that could be done by hand,” Professor Fueller said disdainfully.

(“Computer hardware has been pretty hard to come by since the takeover,”) Parenthetical Guy explained.

“Positive ID on Mecha Mouth confirmed,” somebody called out, rushing over to the wall of sticky notes. I was shocked to see that the person was wearing a mask…and a furry cape draped over an open lab coat…and a glowing red stone on a pendant hanging from his neck.

“Oh god, what’s he doing here?” I said.

Professor Paleontologist stood up straight and turned in our direction. 

“Ah, hello, gentlemen. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Professor Paleontologist said, his expression inscrutable beneath his dinosaur mask.

(“I brought Zach up here because I figured he’d get killed instantly if he was outside for a second longer.”) Parenthetical Guy explained quickly as, behind him, a screen depicted Ultiman running straight into a horde of zombies, leading a group of young-looking heroes behind him.

“I would’ve been fine!” I protested. I wasn’t about to let Parenthetical Guy embarrass me in front of Professor Paleontologist of all people.

(“You know, kind of like why you’re up here,”) Parenthetical Guy added, smirking at Professor Paleontologist. 

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the wall of sticky notes.

“Wait, why isn’t he flying?” I said suddenly, pointing at the screen where Ultiman was fighting off zombies.

“We learned very early on in this thing that flying was out of the question,” Professor Paleontologist said. “Anybody who tries it gets struck down by lightning.” “What’s that about?”

(“Apparently Zeus thinks that its hilarious that his brother Hades was dethroned by Greg the Skeleton King, he’s thrown his weight—and his lightning—behind Smuggles.”)

“Damn,” I said. How were we supposed to deal with the king of the Olympians on top of everything else?

On the screen with Ultiman and his young allies—whom Professor Fueller somberly explained were some of his students from the Superhero School—I saw Cowboy Rockstar enter the fray, riding a glowing skateboard and blasting at zombies with his enchanted six-shooters. 

“Cowboy Rockstar identified, I need an earpiece and a runner!” someone shouted. With a practiced smoothness, I saw somebody across the room dash over to a box of earpieces on a nearby table and toss one to the technician who’d requested. At the same time a blur streaked through the room, snatched the earpiece out of the air, and then dashed back outside. Back on the screen, I saw the superhero speedster, Really Really Fast Guy materialize next to Cowboy Rockstar and hand him the earpiece. Cowboy Rockstar nodded and the speedster dashed off to deal with some other emergency as Cowboy Rockstar popped the earpiece into his ear. 

“Mission control, this is Cowboy Rockstar, do you read me?” Cowboy Rockstar’s voice crackled over a speaker system somewhere in the room.

“We read you,” Gael said in his clipped manner. Apparently, identifying himself would have been inefficient. But letting me know that I drove Smuggles into becoming a megalomaniac was plenty worthy of his time,

“Excellent,” Cowboy Rockstar said, as he continued firing off bursts of energy from his guns at the zombie horde. “I’m about to do something that’s going to look very bad, but I just want to let you all know that it may very well help us turn the tide here. So…I’m sorry I guess, best of luck.”

Gael’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to Professor Flay. “What’s he talking about?”

Professor Flay was wide-eyed as he shrugged, “I have no idea.”

Not that anybody had asked me, but I also didn’t have a clue as to what Cowboy Rockstar was talking about. Luckily, I guess, we didn’t have to wait long. We all watched, mouths agape as Cowboy Rockstar kickflipped over some fallen zombies, fired off a few more shots and then grabbed Ultiman by the shoulder. We watched as they said a few inaudible words to one another, apparently they’d silenced their communicators, and then we watched, helplessly, as they both vanished in a flash of light.

For a moment, we were all speechless. 

And then things kicked back into gear.

“Get a hold of Captain Patriot, tell him he needs to make himself as visible as possible. He’s got charisma people can rally around.” Gael barked. 

Professor Fueller was all business as well, speaking rapidly into his own communicator, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were whitening.

“We need an experienced hero in A-1-7, there are untested students in over their heads. I repeat, students in danger, A-1-7. Now.”

He let out a breath of relief and I inhaled sharply as Hatman and frikkin’ Curly who once got mugged and was so rattled that he slept for like two weeks afterward, Curly who once spilled a glass of milk on his shirt and took the rest of the day as a sick day, which we don’t even give to employees at his level, Curly who once sneezed so hard that he smacked his head against a table and gave himself a concussion, charged into battle to assist the Superhero School students. 

“This is the most implausible thing I have ever seen in my life,” I said and one time, I went to the moon to watch a monster truck, no wait, moonster truck show and accidentally took the only extant picture of Floon, the moon’s invisible twin who controls the lava tides while trying to take a picture of the moonster trucks and accidentally taking a selfie instead. 

(“It’s pretty wild, yeah.”) 

Curly and Hatman stood back to back, tossing flat cap shaped hat-arangs and firing off grapnel lines, cutting down zombies with such ease that I honestly thought some of the Superhero School students were going to start applauding.

With that particular crisis handled, Gael rounded on me once more.

“Where did they go?” he demanded.

I shrugged, “How should I know?”

“Did he mention anything about kidnapping Ultiman when you were in prison together?” Gael asked.

“Not to me…” I said looking to Professor Flay for help, but he’d already wandered off to help some technicians identify weapons or some such crucially vital nonsense.

“Okay… I can’t spare any of my people for this, do you think the two of you can make yourselves useful and do some research to figure out what Cowboy Rockstar could be playing at,” Gael asked, though I noted that his voice had the cadence of an order rather than a question. And he was a bit too condescending for my liking as well. 

I was about to respond when a technician to our left shouted for Gael’s attention and he zipped off in a flash to see what the situation was.

After exchanging a look with Parenthetical Guy, we followed him to take a look as well.

“We’ve just intercepted a transmission,” a dark-haired woman explained to us as we crowded around her station. “Smuggles has just ordered the mad scientist Bald Brain to ‘rain death and destruction by the bucketload’ down on our people. Apparently he’s worked something out with Greg the Skeleton King so that the reapers under Greg’s control won’t claim the souls of Smuggles’ forces.”

“Great, now they can’t even die!” I heard a technician bemoan.

“Irrelevant, our people weren’t taking killshots anyway,” Gael said. “But, I suppose I can’t say the same for our enemies. If Smuggles is going to start handing out wholesale death, that’s a big problem. Not only for the obvious reason, but every one our people that gets cut down will probably be back as a zombie fighting for the other side. This could be disastrous—we need solutions, people!”

(“Hey, wait, look over there,”) Parenthetical Guy pointed at a nearby screen where a large zeppelin shaped like Bald Brain’s head was emerging out of an underground lair.

“Why didn’t we know about that lair!” Gael shouted at nobody. Nobody answered. 

“Wait…it looks like somebody did,” Professor Flay said.

Sure enough, I caught a glimpse of a figure in beige body armor, silver boots, and a beige helmet. Then I noticed the distinct lab coat of a mad scientist, and a glint of light reflected off of a strikingly bald head. Bald Brain was fighting one of the superheroes on top of the zeppelin. Somebody was already there. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all.

“Who is that?” I asked. I couldn’t make out the finer details of the heroes costume from the grainy drone footage. 

Gael narrowed his eyes. “It’s…Gumball Man.”

Oh, great. Never mind what I said before about hope not being lost. Don’t get me wrong, Gumball Man is an all right dude, he’s no Professor Paleontologist or anything. But he’s also no Ultiman either. His powers consist of shooting globs of sticky goo out of his hands that he call gum-bombs. He used to lead a team of superheroes called the Super Fools. The jury is still out on whether or not the name was ironic or not. They saved the world a few times, but who hasn’t at this point. All that’s to say that he wouldn’t be any of our number-one picks for heroes to be the only person standing between us and total annihilation.

But somehow, he’d managed to get onto Bald Brain’s zeppelin and make it into the sky with him. Which was unfortunate for him, since Bald Brain and the rest were allied with Zeus, lord of the skies. All of this meant that Gumball Man was fighting a battle on two fronts. Front one: mad scientist armed with inane weaponry capable of killing us all and/or turning us into zombies under the control of Greg the Skeleton King for all eternite. Front two: the king of the Olympains. Gumball Man had somehow successfully goaded Bald Brain onto the zeppelin’s roof, which seemed to have at least stopped Zeus from hurling lightning bolts indiscriminately. And I guess that was kind of nice of Zeus? To care about Bald Brain enough to ease up a little on the lightning bolts. Either way, Gumball Man seemed to have coated his helmet and some of his armor armor with the sticky, rubbery substance that filled his gum-bombs, which hopefully would protect him from any lightnig Zeus did throw his way. Bald Brain was aiming a ludicrously large gun at him that looked like it had been smuggled off the set of a science fiction b-movie

“He’s going to need help!” I shouted, unable to help myself.

Gael nodded, “We can’t get anybody airborne with Zeus in play…Lorna, are there any teleporters available?

“Negative,” the dark-haired technician responded, “We’ve got all of them posted at high-value locations keeping enemy combatants away.”

“Right,” Gael said. “And I assume Bald Brain’s vessel is made from non-ferrous materials?”

“Scans indicate yes,” another nearby technician said.

On the screen, Gumball Man dove to the side as Bald Brain fired his weapon at him. The sticky polymer he’d applied to parts of the costume prevented him from falling off the zeppelin entirely, but things were not looking good for him. 

“Dammit,” Gael muttered, “We can’t risk shooting it down with Gumball Man still on there, not to mention the fact that we don’t know what kind of payload that airship is carrying, and nobody can fly up there until we’ve figured out a solution to the whole Zeus thing.”

With that Gael turned hopefully toward a group of scientists and technicians that were huddled around a nearby monitor.

“Mike, how we doing?”

“Nothing yet, boss. If we had access to another god maybe we’d be able to begin negotiations or something. But anybody who we know with that kind of access is either too injured to help, missing and presumed captured, or waiting this whole thing out in the Magirealm,” Francesca said. 

“What about the drones?” I asked.

“The what?” Gael said.

“The camera drones, the ones that are recording this for our viewing pleasure,” I said gesturing to the banks of screens and monitors. “Maybe we can use them to take down Bald Brain and rescue Gumball Man.”

“Negative,” Gael said. “We don’t control the camera drones, Smuggles does. He wants the whole world to see the heroes fall.”

“Oh… What a creep,” I said as I struggled to come up with a way out of our current predicament.

Gael nodded and turned back to the monitor depicting Gumball Man’s fight with Bald Brain. The hero had managed to disarm the supervillain and they were now sparring hand-to-hand. Bald Brain was proving to be incredibly spry for a mad scientist and was matching Gumball Man blow for blow. Gael allowed his gaze to linger on the screen for a moment longer. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was drowned out by a loud thump.

“What was that?” he said, his eyes hungrily running across the bank of screens in search of some sort of explanation as the rhythmic thumping continued.

Parenthetical Guy and I looked at each other, there was something familiar about that thump, but neither of us was quite ready to announce that to the group yet. What would we even say? “Oh yeah, that’s a real familiar sounding thump, do with that what you will”? I had a feeling the big brains around us would find that supremely unhelpful.

(“Hey, Lorna, what’s going on with your water?”) Parenthetical Guy asked, pointing at a paper cup filled with water that was sitting on Lorna’s desk. The water was shaking tumultuously, threatening to spill over the side of the cup.

“Oh hell,” Professor Paleontologist muttered to himself. His hand flung up to grasp the red gemstone that hung from his neck and an impossibly loud roar emanated out of it, grinding everything in the densely packed room to a halt and drawing all eyes to him.

“Good god!” I shouted, pressing my hands against my ears.

“Everybody needs to evacuate this building now!” he shouted. “Something big is coming this way,” he said by way of explanation when he was met with the confused stares of a couple dozen scientists and technicians.

Something big…? Coming for us? Yikes, didn’t see that coming. The varied scientists and technicians started meticulously but efficiently packing up anything that was essential and then making their way toward the door to the room. 

“Estimated time ’till arrival?” Gael asked us.

(“Estimate—? I don’t know! Soon probably! Let’s move!”) Parenthetical Guy shouted before grabbing me and Professor Paleontologist by the arms and pulling us toward the door. 

We’d nearly made it to the door to the stairwell when the screens of every monitor in the room exploded outward, showering the room, and us, unfortunately, in a hail of glass. Professor Paleontologist, dauntless superhero and showoff that he was, shoved me and Parenthetical Guy to the floor and shielded us with his body.

“What the hell was that?” Lorna asked from beneath a nearby desk.

“It doesn’t matter, we need to get outside now!” Gael called from across the room, where he was already starting to crawl slowly toward the door, taking care to avoid any pieces of glass.

Thankfully, a much closer entrance than the door to the stairwell soon presented itself. Unthankfully, that’s because two huge claws ripped through the northern wall of the room and pried a massive opening in it. 

“Holy #$%&!” Gael shouted, uncharacteristically losing his cool in the face of the ginormous monster looking through the new hole in the wall at the few of us who were still trapped in the commander center.

“Please tell me this is your doing,” Professor Flay called to me from the middle of the room.

Huh? Why would I have anything to do with—oh… Oh no.

(“Sprinkles?”) Parenthetical Guy asked, slowly rising to his feet.

And he was right, the monster towering over us, slowly dismantling our only shelter around us, was Sprinkles. Dr. Brainwave’s Greatest Shame. Our monster. The very same monster who had helped me and Professor Flay and the others escape from Atomspace just an hour earlier. Only now she wasn’t looking nearly as friendly. Now she was all sharp teeth and spikes and claws with a dead look in her eyes that could only mean one thing…

“Get down! She’s not with us!” I shouted as I grabbed at Parenthetical Guy’s pant leg, pulling him back to the ground.

(“What are you talking about? It’s Sprinkles, of course she’s with us.”)

“Look at her eyes, she’s being controlled somehow,” I whispered.

“That’s right, Zachary,” an electronic voice cackled from a titanium collar that was strapped around Sprinkles’ neck. “I figured out your little trick, I should’ve realized you’d use Brainwave’s monster as a conduit for your escape. But that won’t work again. I’ve had the Nemesystem design this control collar for your beloved team mascot, and now we’re going to use her to ensure that even if your pathetic superhero army prevails today, you won’t be alive to see it.”

(“Ha! Like the mighty How To Hero will ever be taken out by frikkin’ Smuggles!”) Parenthetical Guy said before flipping Sprinkles the double bird.

“Charming, I’m glad to see I’ll be able to take out two of you in one fell swoop. Nemesystem, she’s all yours.”

\\”Hello, all. My name is Nemesystem and I’m in control of his behemoth now. Please feel free to scream and cry to your heart’s content. I don’t mind.”//

“Where are the heroes?” I heard Professor Flay whisper to Gael. “Surely someone must’ve seen this titan stomping around.”

“We didn’t see it coming on the screens, she must’ve… Ah, she must’ve stayed shrunken until just now. It’s…it’s going to take anybody who can do something about this some time to get here,” Gael said, a look of defeat spreading across his features as he looked around the room for something that he might be able to use to get us out of this alive. The other fleeing scientists had taken any weapons and communications devices with them when they evacuated, and anything that was left here had been destroyed in the shockwave that had occurred when Sprinkles was returned to her full, gargantuan height. 

“That’s not quite right,” Professor Paleontologist said before standing up and striding over to the widening gap in the wall.

“How do you mean?” Gael called after him.

“You said that any hero who could face this monster is too far away or otherwise engaged. But that’s not true.” Professor Paleontologist looked back over his shoulder at us and winked, “I’m right here.”

\\”Poor, little PP, thinking he stands a chance against the mighty Nemesystem. You couldn’t hold a candle to me when I was inhabiting a computer, but now that I’m finally in a form that with a physical might to match my intellectual—”//

Professor Paleontologist grabbed his gemstone again and the roof exploded right off the building as a brilliant light blinded the rest of us. Once I’d blinked away the stars I was seeing, I was sure that something must’ve hit me in the head. On the street in front of the command center big, bad, hulking Sprinkles was locked in combat with a feathered Tyrannosaurus rex with a beautiful, lustrous head of bright, pink hair. 

(“Oh my goodness, its hair…it’s magnificent,”) Parenthetical Guy said, mouth agape as sunlight poured into the room.

Professor Paleontologist, still gripping his gemstone, stood at the edge of the wreckage of the command center. His eyes were glowing red and he had become surrounded by an aura of red energy. He was staring intently at the titanic battle below as he rapidly muttered instructions to the time-displaced T. rex he had summoned. 

“Are any of you carrying any sort of weapons?” Gael asked the motley crew of us who were just standing around dumbfounded at the epic battle occurring just a few feet away from us.

“No, sir,” Lorna said, her eyes locked on the fight as the T. rex slammed its tail into Sprinkles’ chest sending her toppling back into a nearby building. 

“Oh my god!” Professor Flay said, “We need to get down there—there could be people or—”

“This entire neighborhood has been evacuated,” Gael said. “Our main priority here is to protect Professor Paleontologist. He’s doing everything he can to exert his will over that T. rex, if he loses focus, there’s nothing stopping Nemesystem from using that monster to kill us all. Not to mention the fact that we’d have a confused, scared, rampaging T. rex to deal with on top of everything else.

That got our attention. Quickly, me, Professor Flay, Parenthetical Guy, Lorna, and Gael made a defensive wall around Professor Paleontologist, making sure to leave him a clear line of sight to the monster mash below. 

“With any luck, anybody who could come to Nemesystem’s aid is being kept busy by our forces,” Gael said, but he didn’t seem confident.

Nemesystem, having recovered from the T. rex’s strike, bounded toward the beast, screeching insults that would surely have devastated the T. rex and its self-esteem had it been one of those thinking, sentient T. rexes you sometimes hear about and now a mindless beast being mentally piloted by a superhero/professor/huge dork. 

\\And another thing! Who died and made you king of the lizards? You’re nothing but a Tyrannosaurus plebius!// Nemesystem’s robotic voice crackled from Sprinkles’ control-collar as the monster clawed and kicked at the T. rex.

I don’t think I imagined Professor Paleontologist wincing a little at that remark, but it might have just been the strain of the battle.

“He’s not going to be able to keep this up for much longer,” I said.

“My earpiece still isn’t working,” Gael muttered. “Nemesystem must be jamming the signal.”

At that moment, a small chime rang out from Professor Flay’s pocket.

“Is that a phone?” Lorna asked, as Professor Flay drew a small, rectangular device from his pocket.

“Sort of… I mean, it’s a communication device that was given to me by—”

“The Chorus of Organs,” I said, as something dawned on me.

(“Oh crap, I forgot Sprinkles is full of people!”)

“Full of what???” Lorna asked.

“The monsters’ internal organs were granted sentience during an accident that occurred in the late Dr. Brainwave’s lab,” Gael explained quickly.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“It’s my job to know that,” Gael said.

Well, I didn’t love that. What other How to Hero secrets did Gael know? Who am I kidding, he probably knows what songs I like to sing in the shower… But I’m getting off track. Gael was right of course, Professor Paleontologist wasn’t just waging battle with Nemesystem, or even our dear pet/mascot. Dozens of lives were at risk as well if this battle kept up. Now Professor Flay’s communicator was ringing and it wasn’t hard to guess why: Below us, the T. rex was clamping down on Sprinkles’ neck with its mighty jaws, though Sprinkles still seemed to be doing all right. I guess Dr. Brainwave had built a sturdy, if not particularly useful, living weapon of mass destruction. Still, there was only so long this could go on for before either us or the inhabitants of Sprinkles suffered some sort of loss.

“Answer it, we need to explain to them what’s going on,” I said.

“How is it even possible that they can call?” Lorna asked as Professor Flay pressed a button on the device and held it up to his ear.

“Nemesystem isn’t going to jam any signals coming to or from the monster,” Gael reasoned, “Otherwise he’d risk losing his own connection to the monster’s control collar.”

Professor Flay spoke into the communicator in hushed tones for a few minutes and then replaced it in his pocket. He turned to us and opened his mouth to speak before being cut off.

(“What’s the deal?”) Parenthetical Guy blurted out.

“I was just about to… They say we’re in trouble,” Professor Flay said.

(“Well thank god they called to let us know, we’d be totally clueless otherwise,”) Parenthetical Guy snarked as Sprinkles shook the T. rex off of her and bodychecked it into a nearby building. 

Nearby, various supervillains and undead legions were rallying around Nemesystem and Sprinkles. Directing their fights with our guys into the paths of these two warring titans. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the heroes would be much help while they were fighting this battle on two fronts.

“No, I mean, yes. But they’re saying it's only going to get worse. Apparently, they’ve been doing their best to fight Nemesystem from within, but it’s a losing battle. They don’t know how much longer they’re going to be able to hold out before Nemesystem has complete control over all of them. They said…they said we should try to kill the monster.”

“What?!” Parenthetical Guy and I said simultaneously. Listen, I’ll admit, I haven’t been Sprinkles’ biggest fan in the past. She’s eaten me twice after all. But still, she was part of the How to Hero family. And I wasn’t about sign off on her murder. And besides, the Chorus had just helped us escape from Smuggles’ prison. Now we were supposed to pay them back by killing them? Absolutely not. There had to be another way.

(“There has to be another way. Sprinkles is one of us!”) Parenthetical Guy protested. I was glad to see someone agreed with me. Though I would’ve preferred if it had been one of the scientists or geniuses. 

“No, it’s the sensible play. We’re simply dealing with too many crises at once. The monster and its organs are artificial lifeforms, it’s possible that we can restore them to life once this is done,” Gael said.

“Sir, are you sure?” Lorna asked. I could tell this didn’t sit well with her either.

My mind began to race. I thought back to my time in Smuggles’ prison. Plotting my escape with Cowboy Rockstar. I’d told him that when you’re trapped in a locked room, anything can be a key. This situation was my locked room. There had to be a way out that we could all live with…and live through. I scanned the wreckage of the command center, looking for “keys.” Nearly all the equipment had been pretty thoroughly thrashed. Either from when Sprinkles ripped a hole in the wall, or when a T. rex burst into existence within it. But my eyes landed on a pretty fancy piece of tech that had miraculously survived… And I’d seen Professor Flay do more with less.

“I’m positive, there’s simply no other way out of this. The rest of our people are on the ground. How long until one of them gets injured or worse because of these brawling behemoths. This isn’t how I’d like to resolve this either but I’m afraid we have no choice—”

“Professor!” both I and Gael shouted at the same time. He was calling for Professor Paleontologist and I was calling for Professor Flay. But Professor Paleontologists’ focus was still wholly on the carnage below, as he controlled the T. rex to protect the heroes and scientists below from the onslaught of blows from the Nemesystem-controlled Sprinkles.

“What?” Professor Flay asked me. 

“You think there’s a lithioplasmic thingamabob and a terrakon whositwhatsit in that?” I asked, pointing at the sophisticated looking laptop that was hovering near Gael’s head.

“Ah,” Professor Flay said, a smile slowly creeping across his features. “Yes. I can make that work. It’s not going to go over well though.”

“Thank you,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “PG, grab the laptop, let’s get to work!”

A devilish grin flashed across Parenthetical Guy’s face before he balled his hand into a fist and jabbed Gael in the stomach. Gael’s face contorted in pain as he doubled over, and Parenthetical Guy snatched the laptop out of the air.

“I’m not sure you needed to punch him,” I remarked as he passed Professor Flay the laptop.

(“I had to make sure he wasn’t going to activate some kind of force-field. What are we doing?”)

“We’re going to let the omni-disciplinary scientist rip this thing apart and build something that might just get us out of here in one piece.”

Professor Flay afforded himself one last glance at the rapidly escalating chaos that was engulfing us. The Tyrannosaurus Rex that was giving its all to hold the ginormous monster back from us. The shirtless man who was gripping a precious stone and muttering like the world depended on it, and it did. The legions of supervillains, zombies, and demons who seemed to be gaining the upper hand over our allies. The warship, upon which one brave superhero was fighting for his life to stop the forces of evil from raining death and destruction down upon our city. Professor Flay took it all in, centered himself, and flipped the laptop on its back.

“Wait!” Lorna shouted, stopping Professor Flay from wrenching open the device.

“Lorna?” I asked.

“He’s got a—” She cast a concerned glance toward Gael who was dusting off his pants and glaring at us.

“There’s a fail-safe, you’ll be zapped if you try to open the laptop’s casing. I know the deactivation codes. One second,” Lorna joined our little clump and Professor Flay passed the laptop to her.

“I implore you all to think about what you’re doing,” Gael said, wheezing to try to get some air back into his lungs following Parenthetical Guy’s precision strike. “I don’t want to let anybody die, but we need that laptop and the information contained within it to advise and organize our forces. That machine is crucial to stopping Smuggles and saving the world.”

“Haven’t you heard, Gael? We’re How to Hero, we know a thing or two about teaching heroes how to save the world,” I said as a defeated little *beep boop* signaled that Gael’s laptop was offline.

“Do your worst, Professor,” Lorna said, handing the laptop back to Professor Flay.

“Thank you, Lorna,” Professor Flay said genially and then ripped the battery pack out of the laptop, exposing the machine’s inner workings. 

Below us, Sprinkles rammed the T. rex into the side of our building, causing the entire thing to sway in its foundations.

(“The sooner the better,”) Parenthetical Guy said unnecessarily. I couldn’t be sure, but I didn’t think Professor Flay was taking his sweet time. 

Gael struggled to his feet and I stepped between him and Professor Flay…which was also unnecessary, as it turned out. Gael held up his hand in surrender and walked over to where Professor Paleontologist was standing on the jagged, uneven precipice of the former command hub.

“It’s clear that I’ve been outvoted, and I’m not exactly going to make the best use of my talents repeatedly getting beaten by you lot while attempting to recover a disassembled piece of hardware,” Gael said over his shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to test a hypothesis of mine.”

Gael joined Professor Paleontologist and grabbed hold of his free hand.

Well, that’s sweet, I thought, thinking that Gael was just showing Professor Paleontologist some emotional support or something.

Should’ve known better, emotional support wouldn’t exactly be making good use of Gael’s talents either, I suppose. Gael’s eyes started to glow like Professor Paleontologist’s and the red aura surrounding the Professor soon engulfed him too. I noticed that Professor Paleontologist’s stance had grown less rigid, like a huge burden had been lifted from him, at least in part, from Gael contributing his willpower to the situation. After another moment, both Gael and Professor Paleontologist started to mutter instructions in perfect unison. And the building shook as the T. rex let out a mighty roar, clearly rejuvenated by the added power. 

“Whoa,” I said.

(“We should… We should join them, right?”) Parenthetical Guy said, before wiping his hands on his pants. (“I don’t wanna contribute sweaty hands to this life-or-death situation,” he said by way of explanation.

“Go, help them,” Professor Flay agreed, this will be ready shortly.

Lorna, Parenthetical Guy, and I walked over to Gael and Professor Paleontologist and, one by one, joined hands with them, contributing our own wills to the circuit and granting the T. rex even more power, which was good, because the more Sprinkles looked to be in need of assistance, the more supervillains came to join the battle, hacking, slashing, shooting, and biting at the T. rex’s heels. 

My body convulsed as I put my hand in Parenthetical Guy’s and the mystical energy from Professor Paleontologist’s gemstone flowed into me, enveloping me in the crimson aura. I’d always heard that the Professor’s gemstone had been gifted to him by ancient dinosaur spirits and that he could use it to bend time itself in pursuit of his own unique, saurian brand of justice, but I’d never put much stock into any of that. It never seemed all that impressive to me. Nearly everyone on the street has access to some kind of magical gemstone that does weird stuff these days. But now that I was actually experiencing Professor Paleontologist’s magic, actually feeling it wash over me, I was in awe of Leon Von Iguanodon. All at once, my mind was consumed by an ungodly cacophony of sounds from the distant past as seemingly billions of prehistoric creatures vied for my attention. I squeezed my eyes shut and struggled to remain upright under the burden of it. I noticed Parenthetical Guy’s grip on my hand weaken and I squeezed tighter, and we held each other up, anchoring one another. After a few seconds of chaos, I heard a voice in my mind—a human voice—cut through the noise. 

“Thank you all for coming, just focus on my voice. I will guide us all through this.” I breathed a sigh of relief as I focused on Professor Paleontologist’s voice. I’d never noticed how soothing it was before. After only a moment’s hesitation, I acquiesced control of my own voice to him, and before long I heard myself muttering instructions to our Jurassic jouster in unison with the others. The experience was like nothing I’d ever known, working in sync with so many people, fighting for a common goal. Battling evil to protect the good and the innocent. Protecting our home, our friends, our freedoms. I felt like I was a part of something so big, so grand, so right, that I could do anything. That feeling would not last.

I was shaken from my immersion in the battle when Professor Flay lightly shoved me, causing me to let go of Parenthetical Guy’s hand and break my connection to the others.

“Hey, rude,” I said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your place,” Professor Flay said as he shoved a small device into my hand.

“This the EMP?” I asked.

“It is.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“I could only build a short-range one with the components I had available to me. You need to get close to the control collar, and when you do, hit this button,” Professor Flay said, indicating a blinking button on the kludged-together mechanism. 

“Excuse me?” I said.

“You heard me, best of luck,” Professor Flay said before winking at me and then taking hold of Parenthetical Guy’s free hand and joining in the magical circuit.

“How the heck am I supposed to—? Oh.”

I guess Professor Flay had conveyed what needed to happen to the others telepathically, because the T. rex suddenly broke away from grappling with Sprinkles and lined its tail up perfectly with the jagged cliff we were standing on.

“Oh god,” I whispered. Well, I wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than that. Why hadn’t I ever taken the time to write a guide to running across a dinosaur’s back? What was I so busy doing? Writing about drills? Writing about the other kind of drills? I did a quick scan back through all of the advice I’d given prospective superheroes about wacky situations like this… This was kind of similar to fighting on top of a moving vehicle I guess? Except for then I  had recommended strapping some pillows to yourself and wearing magnetic boots. Not super applicable here. Let’s see…

“Go!” my five compatriots shouted in unison. Which was both very creepy and super motivating. I took a deep breath and took off running. At its widest point, a T. rex’s width is approximately six feet wide, but I was still a little ways away from there. I tried to split the difference between cautious and speedy as I traversed the dinosaur’s tail as quickly as I possibly could, putting one foot in front of the other, refusing to look down, wishing I was wearing those weird glove-shoe thingies with separate sleeves for each toe for maximum dinosaur tail grippage. I was aware of the fact that T. rex was standing stock still, keeping its feet firmly planted as Sprinkles swiped and swatted at it. I was also aware of the tremendous toll this must have been taking on my teammates, on my friends, as they struggled to keep this king of lizards in check, forcing it to ignore its every fight-or-flight instinct so I could accomplish what needed doing. As I cleared the base of the tail and reached the wider body of the T. rex, I felt the dinosaur begin to move a little, dodging a swipe of Sprinkles’ flaming, spike-ladden tail. I picked up my pace a little, running across the dinosaur’s back and its neck as quickly as my legs would allow. I hoped against hope that the adrenaline would carry me through and that I wouldn’t start to feel the strain of the prison break, being eaten, and all the chaos of the battle around us until after I did this one last thing. As I reached the dinosaur’s head I was grateful for a handhold in the beast’s truly magnificent hair. I grabbed a handful and—whispering an apology to the dinosaur, whom I secretly harbored hopes of remaining friends with when this was all over—pulled myself up onto the top of its head. 

If you’ve never seen the world from atop a tyrannosaurus rex’s head, I highly recommend it. Forget about boats or thrones, this is really where you feel like the king of the world. I took a moment to survey the world that I so very much felt like the king of. All around us, brightly clad or colored superheroes, monsters, and civilians were waging battle against a medley of similarly garish supervillains, criminals, ghosts, zombies, demons. Even a few skeleton warriors had managed to stumble their way into the fray, though, owing to the fact that they have no brains, they weren’t actually posing much of a danger to anybody other than themselves. Still though, things were looking dire. The heroes’ energy was clearly flagging. Most of our forces were students and trainees, they weren’t built for this. Not yet. Not to mention, Bald Brain’s death blimp was still hovering menacingly over everything. With only a chewing-gum themed do-gooder standing between us and oblivion. Plus, there was still the Nemesystem-controlled giant monster to contend with. That problem I could solve at least. I took a deep breath and climbed down in front of the T. rex’s eyes. It blinked at me, confused, but thankfully, Professor Paleontologist and the others were able to keep it from shaking me off. I looked into the dinosaur’s eye, nodded, and took off running down its snout. Sprinkles was right in front of us now, and there was no time like the present. As I reached the end of the dinosaur’s snout, the beast let out a massive, ear-shattering roar that launched me forward at my mind-controlled pet/mascot/two-time snacker. 

<<”What’s this? Growing impatient waiting for me to kill you?”>> 

Just doing some debugging. Just performing a quick techcorcism. Just giving my friend a little nemeshock to their Nemesystem. All great one-liners. All of which would have gone down in history with Neal Armstron’s “One small step for man” and Arnold Schwarzenegger as Mr. Freeze’s “Chill out.” Unfortunately, as I was flying through the air toward a giant monster while a tyrannosaurus rex roared behind me, all I could think to say was “AAARRHGGHRAAAHHHH!!!” Frankly, we were all lucky that I managed to keep the wherewithal to press the stupid button on Professor Flay’s device. 

I did though, you’re welcome, world. I don’t know what I was expecting, but activating the EMP was a bit anticlimactic, all things considered. On the bright side, this definitely meant that Professor Flay wasn’t a secret supervillain or mad scientist or anything. If he had been there probably would’ve been confetti or a light show or a dramatic countdown or something when I’d pressed the button. All that happened was the device gave a little “beep-boop” and vibrated a little in my hand. Oh, and I continued to tumble through the sky toward a giant monster that, by this point, had a pretty well-established history of eating me. Luckily, though, that monster was on our side again. As I reached the apex of my flight, directly over Sprinkles’ head, I saw Nemesystem’s control collar go dark, and fall off Sprinkles’ prodigious neck. As I started my descent I heard cheers from the ground below me and I heard the T. rex roar one final time as it slipped back in time, having been released by Professor Paleontologist. Good, I thought, we did it. I made eye contact with one of Sprinkles’ many eyes and a look of relief and understanding passed between us. Sprinkles maneuvered herself underneath me and opened her mouth wide. I curled myself into a ball and braced for another trip through Sprinkles’ digestive system. I hoped that the EMP hadn’t rendered the Chorus of Organs’ portal technology unusable. I wasn’t looking forward using the…other exit. 

Luckily though, I didn’t have to worry about that in the end, because just as I was about to plummet down the monster’s gullet, a strong, gloved hand grabbed my arm.

“Howdy, partner, looks like we got back just in time.”

I felt like the weight of the world had shifted from my shoulders as I looked up at Cowboy Rockstar’s shining face. 

“Howdy,” I managed as Cowboy Rockstar lowered me onto the ground.

“Think you’ll manage to go ten minutes without being eaten if I leave you here?” he asked as looked up into the sky at Bald Brain’s airship.

“No promises,” I said, but he was already gone, flying off in the direction of the deathship and the one man who stood between us and an eternity of being zombie-slaves to a guy named Greg.

Only it wasn’t just one man now. I held up my hand against my forehead to block out the sun to get a better view of Cowboy Rockstar joining not one but two superheroes giving it their all against Bald Brain and his zany zeppelin. 

“My god,” a voice next to me said. I turned to see Glassesman staring up at the sky as well, brandishing a pair of high-tech binoculars so he could get a better look.

“What’s going on up there?” I asked.

“Here,” he said, holding out his hand and generating another pair of binoculars for me to use.

I held them up to my eyes and saw a sight I had become well familiar with by this point: Gumball Man locked in combat with Bald Brain. But as I surveyed the scene I noticed someone else was there, Ultiman was back as well and apparently, while Cowboy Rockstar was rescuing me from Sprinkles, he had flown behind the airship and dug his superstrong fingers into its hull. 

“He’s…he’s slowing it down? Is that possible? Can he do that?” Glassesman asked.

“I…guess?” I said, equally aghast.

I’m sure Gael or Professor Flay would be able to explain the science behind how a person in flight could use their strength to slow the movement of an entire airship without any kind of leverage or resisting force to take advantage of, but they were up in the ruins of the command hub. And I was standing next to a man whose only power was to generate eyewear from thin air. So all I can offer you by way of explanation is that sometimes, when the chips are down, and the world needs them, incredible people can do impossible things. Case in point, with Cowboy Rockstar now lending his strength to pushing back against the front of the ship, the zeppelin lurched to a halt, the momentum of which Gumball Man used to finally gain the upper hand against his longtime nemesis, dealing a decisive uppercut to the mad scientist’s chin and knocking him out.

Through the binoculars, I saw Cowboy Rockstar wipe his hands together and, in a flash of light, he and Ultiman appeared on top of the zeppelin next to Gumball Man, who was restraining Bald Brain. 

“Hello, everybody!” Cowboy Rockstar’s strong confident voice resonated across the battlefield. “We’re back.”

The superheroes around me on the ground cheered riotously. Even Glassesman, though he stopped immediately once he realized I was looking at him.

“I kindly suggest that all of you villain types lay down your arms and surrender. Now. This is over. Ultiman and I have used or demigod and quasi-deified status to convene a meeting with Zeus, he has agreed to our terms and…”

He paused as, all around us, the various legions of Greg the Skeleton King’s undead army descended back to Hell.

“...Greg the Skeleton King has been removed from the throne of Hell.”

With the supervillains’ forces suddenly depleted, and two of our greatest heroes having shown up in such a dramatic fashion, the tide of the battle instantly turned. 

I heard Gael’s voice resound over a hastily cobbled-together megaphone, barking new orders. Before our eyes, dozens of heroes took to the skies, fighting, but more often than not chasing, the airborne villains who had relished their air superiority just a moment before. 

“But that’s not all we’ve been up to,” Cowboy Rockstar said, “Why don’t you tell them what else they’ve won.”

Ultiman flashed a smile so bright I was able to see it even without Glassesman’s binoculars. “Abracadabra,” he said. And the whole world shook.

Dozens of wizards, witches, demigods, and all manner of other magic users and creatures appeared out of portals, clouds of mists, and the fissures in the ground that the undead hordes had been dragged down. 

“Under Zeus’...advisement, the doors to Magirealm have been opened, our friends in the magical community have returned to lend us a hand!” Ultiman proclaimed.

“Oh my god, this is… How did they pull this off?” I wondered as the weary superheroes raised their hands in cheer as the magical community came to their aid. Cowboy Rockstar and Ultiman picked up Gumball Man and Bald Brain and flew them both down to ground level. Where Bald Brain was apprehended by members of our Resistance and Gumball Man was tackled in a mess of hugs and enthusiastic claps on the back. 

(“Is this is? Is it over?”) Parenthetical Guy asked as he approached me, supporting a severely exhausted Professor Paleontologist. The others had apparently elected to continue overseeing the battle from the ruins of the command hub. Apparently Gael, Lorna and Professor Flay had managed to dredge up and repurpose a couple more pieces of workable technology and were back at work coordinating our superheroic forces.

“I don’t know…maybe? I wouldn’t be surprised if Smuggles had a couple more tricks up his sleeve,” I said. “I mean, could it really be that simple?”

“YEAH!” a disembodied voice shouted.

Parenthetical Guy’s eyebrows shot up and Glassesman frowned, “Who said that?”

Suddenly, one last portal opened up in front of us and a lanky man wearing a purple vest over a black bodysuit emerged. 

“Leonidas Da Vinci,” Power Jones said looking at Parenthetical Guy, “We are here.”

“Leonidas Da Vinci?” I said.

(“Um… What?”) Parenthetical Guy said.

“Literally, kill me,” Professor Paleontologist muttered.

“What is ha—?” Glasses Man started to ask before he was interrupted by dozens of individuals pouring out of the portal behind Power Jones. 

“The Da Vinci Corps has arrived!” Power Jones bellowed.

“Yeah!”

(“This is the best day of my life,”) Parenthetical Guy said before literally squealing with delight.

***

The Haberdashery “Okay,” Ultiman said, looking around the table at the group assembled before him. Arrayed around the table was Cowboy Rockstar, Hatman, Gael, Professor Flay, Professor Paleontologist, Professor Fueller, Helm Lady, Glassesman, Murk, Ethynda, and, to everyone’s surprise, Power Jones, or Power Da Vinci as he’d taken to calling himself now that he had wrested control of the Da Vinci Corps away from our very own “Leonidas.”As it turns out, he’d always known that Parenthetical Guy was full of it when he’d told him about the Da Vinci Corps.

“I’ve got like eight different kinds of telepathy and besides, you’re just not a very good liar,” he’d said. But he’d loved the idea of leading his own multiversal army in defense of the ideals of creativity and learning that he’d formed one himself. Apparently, one of Power Jones’ many powers was the ability “to make myself a Da Vinci” as he put it. He’d then spent the next couple of days assembling his Corps, and once he’d done so, he’d been happy to ride to our assistance with his new team in tow. The Resistance, or I guess now, the expanded forces of Hero Force, didn’t quite understand why he’d shown up. But Ultiman wasn’t about to dismiss him out of hand. 

“Without Greg the Skeleton King’s forces, the supervillains have, just about to the man surrendered. And Gael has done a great job coordinating our forces to best apprehend and hold them until they can be properly tried for their crimes,” Ultiman said, nodding to Gael who didn’t look up from his cellphone to accept the compliment. 

“We’ve been very successful in dismantling Smuggles’ ogranization’s infrastructure and network in the rest of the world. Storehouses are being seized and weapons are being dismantled as we speak,” Hatman cut in.

Cowboy Rockstar nodded, “And as per our arrangement with Zeus, the Egyptian god of death, Shezmu has been put on the throne and Hades has been remanded to Olympian custody.”

“Are we sure we can trust this Shezmu?” Helm Lady asked.

“Probably not long term,” Cowboy Rockstar admitted, “But he knows he’d never have this power if not for me, Ultiman, and Zeus, he’s a minor player in Hell. And the rest of Hell knows it. He’ll be too busy fighting to keep his control to turn his attention toward Earth. At least for the time being.”

Ethynda nodded, “My contacts in the nether realms confirm that he’s already shoring up his defenses and he’s locked himself in his citadel, we won’t be hearing from anyone in Hell until this is all sorted out.”

“Speaking of which…” Ultiman said.

The rest of the table groaned and nodded. Our victory was still not quite as complete as any of us would have hoped. How to Hero Headquarters itself remained impregnable and Smuggles, Chuck the Fish Whisperer, Da Boss Marconi, Greg the Skeleton King and the rest of Smuggles’ inner circle and their henchmen were hunkering down inside, no doubt plotting their next move. Everything that Ethynda and the forces of magic had thrown at the building had had no effect. And anytime any superheroes tried to approach it, they were zapped into Smuggles’ Atomspace prison. 

“Smuggles, the architect of all this, is still at large,” Ultiman said. “And while we are working on accessing Atomspace and freeing our comrades from the prison he’s built there, we still have no way of getting into the building he and his Consortium are hiding out in.

“I may be able to help you with that,” Power Jones said. 

Ultiman smiled, relieved that his decision to allow Power Jones to sit in on this meeting was paying off. “What have you got?” “I can just poof the whole building away,” he said. 

“Poof it where?” Hatman asked.

“Wherever you like, I figure,” Power Jones said. “That dimension you stashed ol’ Chuckie Fishes in for one.”

“That…could work,” Professor Paleontologist said slowly.

“Yeah!” a disembodied voice shouted.

“I’d just need, like, a day or so to charge up enough power to do it,” Power Jones said, shrugging.

“What?” Glassesman said.

“Well, you know, I expended a lot of power hopping around the Multiverse assembling by Da Vinci Corps, I don’t just have limitless power, you know. I’ve got to plug in and charge up every so often,” he said, holding up a slender silver device and waving it around.

“Erm…okay. A day you said?” Ultiman asked.

“A day, maybe a little more, then I can poof your little problem away lickety-split,” Power 

said.

“Well, all right then. We have until then to come up with a better solution,” Ultiman said.

“Did you guys hear that?” I whispered.

Parenthetical Guy, Curly, Lawyer Guy, and I were huddled together with our ears pressed against the door, listening in on the big important meeting that, despite our collective protests, we had not been invited to.

{“Yeah, they’re going to poof our office into some other dimension!”}

(“Not to mention they’re going to leave it full of supervillains.”)

[“All of that really sounds fine to me. The sooner things get back to normal around here, the better.”]

(“Well, that doesn’t sound fine to me! All of my stuff is in there!”)

“Parenthetical Guy’s right, that’s our place. That’s our home. We can’t just let a bunch of supervillains use it to take over the world and then let them keep it!”

{“So what do we do?”}

“Well… You heard them, we’ve got a day before Power Jones makes his move. I say…I say we go handle this ourselves.”

Hope you’re doing well. Thanks.

"Hope you're doing well" they say. Bah! Clearly someone hasn't been paying attention, for I, Smuggles the First, have tossed the insolent, pitiful, and insignificant former writer of this blog into the belly of a great and horrible monster. As such, he will not be coming to your rescue or aid. Luckily though, you have asked a question that only a true supervillain such as myself can fully answer. And maybe it's my boredom with having successfully conquered the entire world, or perhaps it is the holiday spirit having overtaken me, but I will deign to answer your question.

What to Do if You've Been Taken to a Supernatural Werewolf Camp, Bitten and Forced to Become a Disposable Soldier Along with Several Others to Fight Your Own Country.

First things first, from this moment on, you need to stop thinking in terms of "your people" and "their people." You talk of being forced to fight against your own country, yet this country clearly has no loyalty toward you if it would gladly cut you down for the simple crime of existing while being a werewolf. Furthermore, any country that cannot even protect its own citizens from being abducted by foreign powers and being forcibly turned into something against their will is not really a country worth being loyal to as it? Which isn't to say you should feel any loyalty to your werewolf captors. Not only have they abducted you but they've had the temerity to place their slathering dog mouths upon your person without your consent. Gross. No, from here on out, your only loyalty should be to yourself and to those who have earned it.

The next thing you need to do is to rid yourself of the notion that you and your fellows are "disposable" soldiers. You are only disposable to your lupine aggressors, and that is only because they have been emboldened to believe that they can replace you easily by kidnapping and turning another hapless citizen of your cold and uncaring motherland. To you though, your fellow soldiers should be treated with respect, and like the full people they are. This will go a long way toward building up a network of trustworthy and loyal allies. If your superiors treat your comrades with harshness, treating them with kindness will cement your bonds, and will allow you to eventually overthrow the administration of this supernatural werewolf camp and seize control of it for yourself when the time comes... But I'm getting ahead of myself.

In order to gain even the scantest amount of leverage against your superiors you need to disabuse them of the notion that you are disposable. Which means you need to find a way to make their werewolf army finite. You need to disrupt the supply lines that make it possible for them to replenish their forces whenever one of their lycansoldiers should perish in battle. Luckily, you yourself have passed through this supply line, so you know exactly where to begin. Start with the site of your own abduction. Was it a dark and spooky forest? The town square? Were you perhaps snatched from the safety of your own home? Wherever you were taken from, it can be assumed that much, if not all, of the rest of your fellow soldiers were taken in a similar manner. Interview those of them whose trust you've earned. Identify as many snatch-spots as possible, and then get word to these cities and countries, tell them of the weaknesses in their pitiful securities, and advise them on how to protect their citizens from meeting similar fates. With any luck, these cities and towns will take your threats seriously, and take the appropriate precautions. Once you know where werewolves are operating, it is not actually all that difficult to prevent them from operating there going forward. Some silver-lined doorways or paving stones are all it will take to cut the werewolves off from their hunting grounds. And if the werewolves cannot turn more hapless citizens, every soldier that they already have becomes that much more valuable.

Now that you are a precious commodity, and now that you've banded together with your fellows, you are in a place to make demands. Perhaps you'd like to choose where and when you and your fellow soldiers are deployed. This would be a great opportunity to rid your former homeland of any enemies that you accrued in your old life. You may as well use your newfound superior strength, agility and senses to wreak havoc on the lives of all those who have wronged you in the past. Perhaps you'd like more comfortable accommodations in your supernatural werewolf camp bunkhouse. Perhaps you'd like better food, better uniforms, better weapons. At this stage in your covert and self-serving rebellion, you want to make as many small, seemingly inconsequential requests as possible. Slowly improve your circumstances, while simultaneously expending more and more of your captors' resources. The more money and resources they are spending on you, the less they'll have to eventually defend themselves against you. Which leads me to my next point.

Once you've gained the loyalty of your fellow soldiers, stymied the creation of new soldiers, and procured more and better equipment for your soldiers, you can finally rise up against the dastardly werewolves who kidnapped you and stole your life in the first place. I recommend attacking on a day or night that does not have a full moon. Yes, you and your army won't be able to use the full extent of your werewolf powers, but neither will your enemies, people who have been werewolves for much longer than you have, people who are far more experienced in using those powers, people who have grown to rely on those powers. With any luck, you and your army will be able to take them by surprise them and, without them having access to their powers, you will be able to slaughter them with little fanfare.

At this point you will be the all-powerful king of the werewolves, and since you've already subjugated your former country at the behest of your former persecutors, you will no doubt control much of the region. With all this power, you can do whatever you like, and with this guide, you will be able to identify and quash any rebellion that appears to be fomenting against you. If you'd like to rid yourself of the curse of the werewolf, you can commission or conscript mad scientists to develop a cure... Or you can use your werewolf army to launch an attack on the full moon itself! Or, if you've grown to love your monthly transformations into a mangy monster, then you can continue to do so safely with the knowledge that nobody will ever be able to force you to use your werewolf form for their own purposes ever again.

Hope this helps,

Not all crimes and crises are created equal. A pick pocketing on the corner of Jewel and Main doesn’t warrant the same response or attention as a meteor shower at Buckingham Palace. The day the aliens invade Earth is gonna be the same day all the banks get robbed and that’s ok. As a superhero you need to master the skills of prioritizing and planning proportional responses.

Depending on your power-set and your levels of experience, certain jobs might simply be beneath you. And not even in an arrogant way! I’m not saying that you should stick up your nose at people asking you for help because they’re not cool enough for you or that if an old-lady is being purse-snatched right before your very eyes you shouldn’t do anything. But if you’re able to prevent volcanoes from erupting or you specialize in fighting rogue AIs and you get a call to do something like that then maybe don’t make twenty-seven pit-stops to help cats out of trees or to fight the Rambunctious-Red-Light-Runner (who, by the way, never commits any other crimes and is literally never worth anybody outside of traffic cops’ time) on your way to where the AIs are forcing a volcanic event. 

If you’re part of a large superhero team the team should be divided into different units that can deal with different level events. When an Omega Class Threat (say, a robot dinosaur or a walking, talking, cartoonishly anthropomorphized nuclear bomb) strolls out into a densely populated area you shouldn’t send the same guys that you would send to fight Smuggles or the Glorious Gobstopping Gumball Gladiator or other starter-villains™. Different heroes are just built for different things. And that’s ok! All levels of super-crimes are occurring all the time! There’s definitely always something for everyone to do. You just need to make sure the super-communities resources are being deployed efficiently.

If possible the smartest superhero (or superhoes if you have a bunch of them just lying around) in your universe should bench themselves from the field and devote all their time to determining which superheroes would do best in every specific situation. Possibly they should even try downloading their consciousness into a computer for maximum efficiency? Do we think that’s a thing they’d be willing to do? Or if not maybe they should download a computer into their brain. If that kind of thing is possible. I’m not really sure that it is, it’s not like people have USB ports in their heads (maybe that’s what nostrils are for {nostrils are for smelling parenthetical voice, not for sticking flash-drives, we’ve been over this} excuse me who even invited you to this blog????) If you don’t have anybody who’s willing to dedicate their lives to this incredibly important and noble pursuit, then everybody else in the super-community is going to have to pick up the slack. Thanks a lot smart-people, your unwillingness to give up all your energy, free time, and some of your brain’s real estate, has forced everybody else to take stock of their own abilities!

Each superhero needs to honestly evaluate their own strengths and weaknesses to determine which combat situations they’d be best suited for. Hydrokinetic superheroes (that’s people who can control water) or people who can turn their bodies into the form of water (like the form of an ice-unicycle or a bucket of water) should be sent to deal with fires or beached whales. On the flippity floppity, pyrotechnician superheroes (that’s people who operate fireworks) should be called into deal with any Fourth of July related crimes (like if someone steals the Declaration of Independence or if someone drops a giant soapbox into the middle of Philadelphia and then gets up on it and starts ranting about “Fourth of July” being an example of the date-month-year method of saying dates that several countries including our former oppressors, the tyrannical Great Britain use and calling Independence Day anything but “July Fourth” is unpatriotic and then fires an AK-47 into the air as is their constitutional right).

Proper prioritizing can lead to not only a more efficient way of fighting crimes and dealing with catastrophes but also a safer way of doing it. Brad the Radioactive Man (don’t try calling him the Bradioactive Man, he does not appreciate it) is great for fighting giant nuclear monsters but he’d be no good for fighting off Knife-Man, the man who is made entirely out of containment-suit-piercing-knives. A fight like that would potentially cause a nuclear detonation. That’s not what we’re going for. Generally, when superheroes show up somewhere they are not trying to cause a nuclear detonation. That is almost always the rule. Someone whose skin is too tough to be pierced by knives such as Rockblock, the seven-armed rock-man, would be way more effective at dealing with Knife-Man. (Plus, under the rock-paper-scissor clause of reality, he’s guaranteed to win!)

Being a superhero means doing lots of super good stuff. Rescuing all manner of small animals from trees. Assisting all manner of elderly-folk in crossing the road (hey kids! Here’s a slick joke for you cool cats at home: why did the superhero cross the moral event horizon? To get to the other side.) Foiling all manner of elaborate bank heists. But the most exciting part of being a superhero (as far as this one post is concerned. Obviously I’m gonna use that line to hype up other posts. Who’s going to stop me? You? I don’t think so!) is fighting bad guys!     

But you can’t just start punching heat-gun toting super-thugs on your very first night on the job! Picking a fight with a supervillain who grossly outmatches you as a result of extreme arrogance and, an absolutely appalling lack of self-awareness is the leading cause of death of young superheroes in most countries (in Antarctica it’s freezing to death and in America it’s obesity, but like in most countries it’s the arrogance and absolutely appalling lack of self-awareness). You need to start small. You’re not going to meet your nemesis on your first day. You’re not going to singlehandedly stop an invasion. Probably you won’t fight a rogue wizard, though admittedly this varies depending on the density of the rogue wizarding population in your area (we had graphs to illustrate this point more clearly but they contained zero snarky parenthetical comments so we nixed ‘em. You’re welcome). 

On your first night of fighting crime we highly recommend finding a good starter-villain™. A starter-villain is a petty criminal who can oftentimes be intimidated into ceasing all their criminalistic (Fun fact! That’s not a real word!) activities just by having a superhero show up and power glower at ‘em for a bit. Starter-villains are really just great for everyone. They give a rookie hero some sort of sense of accomplishment. They have the lowest hero-kill-rate of almost any category of supervillain (beaten out only by evil quakers and villains whose only power is to talk to fish because do you know how easy it is to just get out of the water when they attack? So easy. Absurdly easy. Abundantly easy. Aggressively easy. Asininely easy). Plus, it makes these cat-suit-wearing-cat-burglars and costumed pick-pockets feel all the more special that a superhero came to stop them. It’s a win-win for everybody. But especially for Justice (my phone auto-capitalizes the word “Justice” these days. Not that I’m writing this on my phone or anything. I just thought if anybody would think that fact was neat it would be the people reading my superhero blog ;)) 

The best way to deal with a starter-villain is essentially to make them think you’re more experienced than they are. Or make sure you already have a power advantage over them before responding to the call for help (y’know like water powers beat fire powers; rock powers beat scissor powers which beat paper powers, that sort of thing). Keep calm and test out some slick catchphrases or one-liners. Like if they’re, for instance, a garishly costumed smuggler named “Smuggles” try saying something like “I’m gonna smuggle you… into prison!” Then demonstrate your cool powers or sick fighting moves. With any luck and with very little effort your starter-villain should be surrendering pretty quickly.

There are just a few things you need to worry about when dealing with starter-villains. For one, since they’re most likely also just entering into the supervillaining game they might not have decided what kind of villain they want to be and might try to reach above their station and do something drastically dangerous. Like threaten to kill a hostage or punt a puppy across a freeway. These types of actions without a doubt every single time always all day every day serve to escalate a situation and your immediate priority should be either to attempt to talk them down, or to call in someone more experienced in dealing with these things than you. A scared starter-villain can also quickly become a trigger-happy starter-villain so be sure to always disarm them as soon as superhumanly possible.

Another thing to be aware of is that in most cases, a starter-villain is only really a starter-villain one time. If you’re successful in defeating them and turning them over to the proper authorities, then it’s very likely they’ll meet some other more realer dealer supervillains in prison and pick up a few pointers from them. So when you run into them again after the weekly superhuman jailbreak, be forewarned that they probably have a few new tricks up their shoddily-sewn-homemade-skull-shaped sleeves. Conversely if they somehow manage to flee the scene of the crime after you’ve stopped their attempted gumball machine robbery or whatever stupid criminal activity they were doing they might come to see you as their nemesis, the first person to ever defeat them, and work tirelessly to make your life a living hell so you’ll forever rue the day you crossed the Glorious Gobstopping Gumball Gladiator (her gun just shoots gumballs, I don’t really get it).

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.”  

“You calling me a liar?”

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.”

“Can you blame me?”

“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-”

“Don’t say it.”

“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.

“And what?”

“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.”

“Hear hear!”

“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.”}

“He left? What do you mean he left?”

{“Like out the door.”}

“While I was speaking? While I was speaking just now? But that’s so rude. Wow.”

{“I know. So rude!”}

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.”

Curly was already gone. 

“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?”)

“Yes.”

(“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-”

(“First of all-”)

“Oh.”

(“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.”)

“Are you done yet?”

(“Fourthly, Ethynda doesn’t even have a door, she lives in a cave on a mountain.”)

Professor Paleontologist folded his arms and waited patiently.

(“Oh, I’m done now.”)

“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.

{“Whatcha doin?”}

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?”}

“Sabotage.”

{“Sabotage?”}

“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.”}

“No.”

{“Aw come on!”}

“I work alone.”

{“388 different Hatboys beg to differ.”}

“You make a point.”

{“Also, like, we’ve already worked together. I was a Hatboy at one point remember?”}

“What?”

{“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.” 

{“What kind of work?”}

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.’”}

Hatman sighed.

“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?”}

“We need to steal it.”

{“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. 

(“That was your plan?”) 

“It worked didn’t it?” 

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.”)

“Where did you send it?” 

(“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.

Ethynda waved him off. 

“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. 

(“Ethy! You slay me-”)

“I’m about to.”

(“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.”)

Ethynda rolled her eyes.

“I’m moving.”

“Moving?”

“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.”

(“We?”)

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You have the power to help us set things right? Where are you even going?”

(“What do you mean we?”)

“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.”)

“Naturally.”

“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?”

(“Well, I’m not dead.”)

“And?”

“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.”)

“No.”

(“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.

{“Huh?”}

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.”}

“What do you mean?”

{“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.”

{“Exactly.”}

                                                            ***

“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.

“What?”

“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.”

“Wait but-”

(“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.”

{“Sucks to be him.”}

“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.”}

“You’re sure?”

{“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.

{“Pretty neat eh?”}

“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 in-”

“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. 

{“Let’s do thi-”}

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!” 

“Mobster,” Hatman spat.

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.

“Why you insolent-”

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!” 

“Never!” Hatman shouted.

{“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!”)

Curly gave him a look.

(“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.

(“Do we get it?”)

{“What if it’s a trap?”}

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?”]

                                                            ***

A Secure Location

“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.

“Tapping!”

“Foot!”

“Kicking!”

“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?”

New Post has been published on https://www.chiangraitimes.com/bangkok-court-gives-four-year-prison-sentences-given-to-thai-rhino-horn-smugglers.html

Bangkok Court Gives Four-Year Prison Sentences Given to Thai Rhino Horn Smugglers

  BANGKOK – A Thai court on Tuesday sentenced three people to prison over the smuggling of nearly two dozen rhinoceros horns from Ethiopia worth $1.5 million.

The bags carrying the 21 horns were discovered in March last year in a random customs search at Bangkok’s main airport. Officials found the horns, weighing almost 50 kilograms (110 pounds), inside luggage originating from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia’s capital.

A court in central Thailand handed four-year prison sentences to two Thai women who attempted to claim the luggage before they fled as officers searched their bags, and a public prosecutor who tried to convince airport security to not check the bags.

A court statement said Worapas Boonsri, a former public prosecutor, told officials at the airport that the luggage contained wine and he asked airport security to not to check it. He also resisted later attempts by officials to open the luggage and suggested that it be placed back on the airport’s conveyor belt so it could be declared as luggage with no owner while he also offered bribes to officials, the statement said.

His actions revealed that he knew what was inside the bag, it said.

The three were convicted of smuggling restricted items into the country and evading customs taxes.

Rhinoceros horns, blood, skin and urine are in high demand across Asia for their use in traditional Chinese medicine. Demand for the products has soared in Asia, particularly Vietnam, where they are considered a luxury item, according to the wildlife trade monitoring network TRAFFIC.