25
The first thing I did was try to get the camera back online. I fiddled with switches and turned dials and pushed buttons. Nothing. No sound, no video, no feedback. I couldn’t see anything happening inside the factory, not even the evil tortures Malefica was subjecting my friends to. Perhaps it was better that way.
Since the camera was dead, I would have to do things on my own. I’d have to go in blind. I sat and thought for a minute. Then, I walked over to my desk, picked up a phone, and punched in a number I knew by heart.
“Talk to me.”
“You want blueprints of the Snowdom Ice Cream Factory so you can bust in and save the Fearless Five from the vile clutches of the Terrible Triad?” Lulu asked.
I could hear the disbelief in the other woman’s voice. “I know I sound a little nuts right now, but it’s the truth, I swear.”
“Have you been drinking? Or were there pills involved?”
“No, I have not been drinking. Or popping pills.” That wasn’t entirely true, but I was in no mood to confess to my growing dependence on aspirin. “Listen up. I’m only going to tell this story to you once.”
I told Lulu everything. How I’d been kidnapped by Malefica, why I’d started digging into the Fearless Five’s real identities again, the battle at the park, my time with the superheroes, Malefica’s dastardly plan. Of course, I left out a few pertinent details like the real identities of the Fearless Five. However, I had no such qualms about unmasking Malefica, despite her threats that no one would believe me.
“Morgana Madison?! You’ve got to be kidding me, Sister Carmen. She’s one of the most respected businesswomen in Bigtime—not to mention the richest. Why would she masquerade as an ubervillain?”
“Who knows? Maybe she’s a thrill-seeker. Maybe her parents didn’t love her enough as a child. Maybe she was dropped on her head when she was a baby. I don’t really care what drove her to her life of crime. I just want to stop her and rescue the Fearless Five. Do me a favor. Pull up a photo of Malefica off the Internet and compare it to one of Morgana. That’s all I ask. If you don’t believe me then, you can hang up.”
Through the phone, I could hear Lulu pounding away on her computer. The typing stopped, and Lulu let out a low whistle.
“Well, well, well, as I live and breathe. Hello, Malefica. Or should I call her Morgana Madison?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s some weird superhero-ubervillain etiquette about that I don’t really understand. I’m sticking with Malefica. Or the bitch that must die. Whichever you prefer.”
“Meow!” Lulu purred. “So Sister Carmen, what exactly do you need?”
“First of all, I need the blueprints for the ice cream factory. Get the originals from city hall if you can. I think Malefica tampered with the ones that Hermit found online.”
“Got it. What else?”
“I need you to see if you can find someone who used to work at the factory. Someone who remembers the layout, what kind of chemicals the workers used, what’s the best way in and out of the building, that sort of thing.”
“Why?” Lulu asked.
“It never hurts to have too much information. I want to know as much as I can about the building before I go in.”
“Anything else?”
“Remember your friend Jasper? I need some more supplies from him. As soon as possible.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? From what you’ve told me, you almost blew yourself up the last time Jasper gave you some supplies.”
The memory of the fiasco in the park gave me another headache. I reached across my desk for my bottle of aspirin. I shook it. Empty. I’d grab some from the sick bay on my way out.
“I don’t have a choice, Lulu. Not unless you’ve got a superhero or five up your sleeve.”
“Sadly, that’s the one commodity I can’t quite seem to get my hands on. I’m working on it, though.”
“Meet me at the Wolf ’s Den as soon as you’ve got everything. It’s an all-night diner that’s about five miles away from the factory.”
“I know the place, but it will take me some time to get this stuff together. I’m not Swifte, you know.”
“How long?” I ground my teeth together.
Every minute, every second counted. I didn’t know how long Malefica would keep the Fearless Five alive. My guess was not very long. Malefica would gloat for a while, then get bored with her prisoners. After that—I didn’t want to think about what would happen.
Lulu’s fingers snapped against the keyboard. “I can get what you need and be there in an hour.”
I glanced at the clock. It was almost ten now. “Fine. See you there.”
“Be there or be square, Sister Carmen.”
I hung up the phone and went over to the round table in the center of the library. I stared at the five empty chairs and the F5 insignia. I brushed my fingers over the carved wood. I would save the Fearless Five. I would.
Or die trying.
I put aside my raging emotions and ransacked the library, searching for anything that might help me in my upcoming battle. I found nothing I could use, unless I wanted to brain Scorpion with a very thick encyclopedia. I didn’t think that would slow down the ubervillain for a second, although a book without pictures might confuse him.
Next, I jogged down the hall to the equipment room. I jabbed in the code, and the door slid open. I walked toward the colorful leather costumes hanging behind the glass door and reached for the handle. My hand dropped to my side. No. I wasn’t a superhero. I wasn’t going to play dress-up and pretend to be one at this stage of the game. I was Carmen Cole, the woman who lived in jeans and a T-shirt.
The woman who was probably going to die in jeans and a T-shirt.
No use thinking about that right now. When Malefica got her hands on me or Frost dumped me in a vat of radioactive goo. That would be a good time to have a proper panic.
I turned and surveyed the rest of the room. Striker’s gleaming silver swords caught my eye. I went over and picked one up. I twirled the sword in my hand. It weighed less than a feather. A weapon I didn’t know how to use was better than no weapon at all. I grabbed another sword off the rack. And two weapons were definitely better than one. I found a scabbard for the swords and strapped them to my back. I spent a few minutes practicing pulling the swords out and putting them back in the leather slots.
Once I’d familiarized myself with the swords, I tore through the rest of the room. I found nothing else remotely helpful. No guns, no knives, no quarterstaffs, no throwing stars. Nothing. You’d think Sam would have invested a little more money in weapons given how much he spent on the rest of the group’s equipment. But that was a superhero for you. Always confident his power would be enough to see him through any battle. That was the problem with having superpowers—you came to rely on them too much. When they went away, as they so often did, you were left defenseless, helpless. It had happened to the Colorful Crusader and countless others.
Still, reliable or not, I would have given anything to have a superpower right now.
My next stop was the sick bay. Again, I found nothing helpful. The room was filled with odd machines and other devices much too complicated for me to understand, let alone find any use for. Odd drugs with bizarre, never-ending names and too many vowels sat inside most of the cabinets and drawers. I had a rule about medicine—I never took anything I couldn’t pronounce.
A box on one of the counters caught my eye. More RID pills. Evidently, it was Mr. Sage’s drug of choice. I turned the box over and read the label. Caution: Take one pill per day as needed to absorb and diminish radioactive isotopes. More than one pill per day may result in serious side effects, such as nausea, dizziness, headaches, and fatigue. Extreme overdoses could result in death. Consult your doctor for more information.
Big metal vats of radioactive goo flashed through my mind. My inner voice whispered. I had a funny feeling I’d be taking a cold, cold bath before the night was over. What the hell? I wasn’t likely to live through this little adventure anyway. Maybe they’d help my headache.
I downed ten of the pills.
Once I was done scouring the underground lair for weapons, I took the elevator upstairs and paced through the silent halls. My sneakers squeaked on the slick marble floors. The eyes of the statues and paintings followed my every step.
The manor seemed so empty without the others in it. I kept expecting to turn a corner and run into Sam carrying a briefcase full of papers from his latest business meeting. Or see Fiona snacking on a couple dozen pizzas in the kitchen. Or find Henry and Chief Newman playing pool in the game room.
I made my way to my room and plopped down on the thick bed. I glanced at the alarm clock. A little after ten. I closed my eyes, then opened them. I sat up. I got off the bed and paced around the room. I stared at the clock. Exactly two minutes had passed.
I couldn’t sit still until it was time to meet Lulu—I’d go crazy. So, I took a quick shower to kill some time. I turned the water up as hot as I could stand it and let it soak into my body, as if it would linger there and drive away the cold of the factory. Once I’d dried off, I put on my favorite pair of faded jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt with POW! and BIF! and BAM! and other cartoon words on it.
I took extra care with my makeup. I was going to war, so I put on all my paint. Foundation, powder, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick. After all, a girl should look her best when she was about to meet her inevitable doom and death. A leather jacket completed the look. It wasn’t Bulluci’s fall collection, but it would have to do.
I grabbed a couple of CDs out of the cardboard boxes that littered the floor and tossed them into a bag with the swords and scabbard. I needed to psych myself up a little bit for the mission at hand. Okay, a lot. A whole hell of a lot.
I took a long, last look at myself in the mirror. Fear, panic, worry. All those emotions and more swirled in my troubled blue eyes. Tension tightened my face underneath all the makeup. I blew out a long, long breath. My emotions, my fears, my concerns didn’t matter anymore. All that was important now was saving Striker and the rest of the Fearless Five.
It was time to go to work.