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J e n n i f e r E s t e p

“The factory’s a block ahead on the right,” Hermit said.

“I figured you could go through the front, Fiera, while Mr. Sage and I went in through the back.”

“Works for me.” We always sent the muscle in first. Me. We piled out of the van. Hermit, Mr. Sage, and I activated the cameras in the F5 insignias on our costumes and shoved miniature two-way transmitters into our ears.

“Check, check,” Lulu said, her voice crackling in my ear. We checked back to her.

Lulu’s slender fingers danced over the keyboard, and her laptop whirred and sputtered. “All right. You guys are online. I’ve got visual and audio on all of you.”

“Then let’s rock ’n’ roll,” I said.

“Be careful,” Lulu said.

Hermit squeezed her hand. “Always.”

We locked Lulu in the van and crept down the block. Discarded candy wrappers and empty soda cans littered the street, crackling under our boots. Enormous rats scurried back and forth in the debris, their eyes red pinpricks of light in the semidarkness. I glared at the odious little monsters. Maybe if I barbecued a couple, the others would get the message and run away. Probably not. Rats were nasty, tenacious creatures. Rather like ubervillains. The wind shifted, whipping trash into the air and gusting down the street toward us. The smell of rotten garbage, wet fur, and fresh dirt filled the night. I also caught a whiff of something sickeningly sweet, almost like perfume. My nose twitched. For a second, I felt slow and limp and languid, like my body wasn’t my own to command. Then, the scent was gone, overpowered by the filth around us. The weak sensation faded. My eyes scanned the street, but I didn’t spot anything moving among the piles of trash, except for the foot-long rodents. We rounded the corner of a building. A cracked parking H o t M a m a

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lot stretched out in front of us, leading to a low square building set back from the dilapidated street a couple hundred yards.

“This is it. This is where I tracked Intelligal’s chair to. It used to be a television factory way back when.” Hermit hit a few buttons on his handheld supercomputer. “Here are the entrances and exits. You should go in through the front here, Fiera. Mr. Sage and I will come in back here, and we’ll meet in the middle there.” He pointed to various squiggles on the screen.

“Front door. Got it.”

We huddled together in the shadows. Our eyes went to each other’s faces. Despite our powers, we knew that one night all of us might not come back. It had happened before when we’d least expected it. And it could happen again. I put my fist over my heart. Mr. Sage and Hermit followed suit. Courage, all.

Then, one by one, we eased toward the factory and the ubervillains inside.

I waited for Mr. Sage and Hermit to slip into the dark alley that ran along the side of the building before I scurried across the parking lot. I made it to the entrance without incident and glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. A set of uneven steps led up to the front door, which was boarded over with rotten-looking two-by-fours. I paused. Looking. Listening. Nothing. I started up the steps, which shrieked and groaned like a woman in labor under my weight. I winced. Good grief. I bet they’d heard that in the next time zone. I might have a variety of superpowers and skills, but moving quietly wasn’t one of them. So, I did what I do best—I put a little muscle into the situation. I yanked the boards off the building and tossed them 90