The short fat man cleared his throat. “Tick’s ear transponder confirms what we’ve guessed—he’s been taken to the heart of Reginald Chu’s business palace in the Fourth Reality. No doubt the Dark Infinity device is located there in his research and development chamber underground. We’ve had spies in the Chu complex for many years, saving them for the day we’d need them most. Today is that day.”

“Sha people!” the dark-skinned man in the mummy suit shouted. “Sha to do such a linka?”

Paul exchanged a look with Sofia, having no idea what the guy was talking about.

“Yeah,” a brown-haired woman said, dressed in a T-shirt and blue jeans. “What good are a few spies against Chu and all his weapons?”

Rutger held up his pudgy hands. “You’re right, you’re right. Our spies may only be good for opening a door here, smashing a window there, perhaps rearranging some schedules of workers if they can. No, we’re not saying we’re going to enter the heart of Chu’s lair because of a few spies. But they will help.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Sofia yelled out, surprising Paul.

Rutger looked at her, then scanned the full audience. “We’ll have to, I mean, all of you will have to fight your way in.”

A small roar sounded from the crowd as everyone started talking at once. A couple of people stood up, shouting at Rutger.

Master George slammed a hand against the podium, sending a sharp crack of thunder echoing across the room, silencing the Realitants.

“Please, good people,” Master George said. “Don’t get in a tizzy before you’ve heard the entire plan. Many of us have spent our entire summer working on developing our weapons program, and we’ve come up with some dandies, I assure you.”

Paul looked at Sofia. “Weapons? Sweet!”

Rutger spoke next. “In these boxes are samples of our latest inventions, most of them based on items taken from the Fourth. We have enough to equip an army of thirty-two Realitants, and we think that will be enough to get us to Tick and the Dark Infinity device. And, if I may be so bold as to express my professional opinion, these things are going to kick some serious . . . um . . . er . . .”

“Booty!” Paul shouted.

“Exactly!” Rutger pointed at Paul, grinning. “Now, shall we begin?” He plopped down onto his knees and opened the small shoebox. He reached in and pulled out a tiny, dark ball, about the size of a marble. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger. “This, my friends, is called a Static Rager, and it’s not something you’d want to use for playing catch with little nephew Tommy.”

“Unless you be wantin’ little Tommy to be eaten by a forty-ton ball of dirt,” Mothball added. “Nasty buggers, those are. Could’ve used ’em on the Bugaboo soldiers.”