The Superhero's Strike

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Before I could ask Strike what he meant, he slowly waved his outstretched hand. The airplane started moving again, but instead of crashing into the landing stripe, it slowly but surely floated by overhead. It floated for quite a few feet until Strike set it down further down the landing stripe, near the terminal. As soon as he set it down, the entrance popped open and a large inflatable slide popped out, which scared passengers immediately began sliding down. Police and emergency workers alike swarmed the plane, helping the terrified and confused-looking passengers get into the terminal, although I saw more than a few passengers—mostly elderly ones—being directed to the emergency vehicles sitting not too far away from the plane itself.

I imagined that most of those passengers were going to suffer severe trauma after this, but at least they were alive. That situation could have ended so much worse than it did.

Strike held out a hand toward me suddenly. “Need a hand?”

Feeling slightly embarrassed by my position, I took Strike’s hand and he helped me up. “Thanks, man. If you hadn’t caught the plane like that with your telekinesis, everyone would have died.”

“Magnetism,” Strike corrected. “I simply used my magnetism to catch the plane and move it.”

“Right, magnetism,” I said, nodding. I rubbed my back, which ached from the pressure I had put on it. “You sure made it look easy.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t,” said Strike, shaking his head. “I’ve moved big things before, but catching a plane of that size and putting it down? You don’t know how hard that is.”

I had the feeling Strike was trying not to brag, which was just like him. Strike was the team leader of the New Heroes, a team of young superheroes for the Independent Neoheroes for Justice, just like the Young Neos were for the Neohero Alliance. The two of us didn’t always get along, but we had come to respect each other as leaders and superheroes in our own right ever since we first met each other. It had been a long time, though, since we last spoke to each other, although Strike looked about the same as always, though his suit looked different.

“Regardless, you saved those people when I couldn’t,” I said. “I tried my best, but those airplanes are way heavier than they look.”

“No doubt,” said Strike in agreement. “Anyway, with that out of the way—”

“Strike!” said a female voice all of a sudden. “Mr. Strike!”

Startled, the two of us looked over and saw what looked like a whole mob of journalists and reporters—complete with cameramen—rushing toward us across the tarmac. Soon we were surrounded on all sides by dozens of journalists, each one shoving phones in our faces as they attempted to interview us.

“Mr. Strike!” said one of the journalists, a young woman with curly brown hair and a tag that identified her as ‘SHERRIE BROWN, USNN.’ “My name is Sherrie Brown and I am from the United States News Network. Can you tell us your initial thoughts on saving nearly a thousand people in one go?”

A middle-aged man with gray hair suddenly shoved Sherrie out of the way and thrust his own phone in Strike’s startled face. “Mr. Strike, my name is James Costa from Neo Ranks News. Where do you put this on your impressive list of accomplishments? Is this near the top or closer to the bottom? Would you put this on par with your defeat of the supervillain Tsunami or—?”

Strike held up his hands as if fending off a wild animal. “Hey, I didn’t do this by myself. Bolt here helped as well.”

I tried to smile and look friendly, but I’ll admit to being a little jealous of all the attention Strike was getting. I knew Strike was really popular and had a tendency to command attention from people wherever he went, but it was still annoying that they all acted like Strike was the only guy who saved those people and completely ignored me. At least I knew Strike didn’t intentionally seek out fame, which made me feel a little better.

Some of the reporters glanced at me, but the rest were all focused on getting the scoop directly from Strike. I could tell that Strike was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with all of the attention he was getting, but with reporters mobbing us on every side, it wasn’t like Strike could just walk away. Nor could I, for that matter, not without shoving aside reporters. But we also couldn’t talk to each other with these people mobbing us, so I needed a distraction.

Suddenly, I pointed in a random direction and said, “Hey, is that President Plutarch dancing naked on top of the airport?”

That did the trick. All of the reporters and cameramen turned their attention to the airport itself. Before they found out I was lying, I grabbed Strike’s arm and twisted my Teleportation Buckle.

An instant later, Strike and I were standing on top of the Braindome in downtown Showdown, well away from the city airport. I let go of Strike, who didn’t seem very bothered by the teleportation.

He did, however, look at me with a raised eyebrow. “Plutarch dancing naked on the airport? That’s an … interesting mental image.”

I shrugged. “Media bait. The media is really obsessed with Plutarch for some reason, so I figured if I made up some outrageous lie about him, it would distract them long enough for us to escape.”

Strike chuckled. “Frankly, I’m just jealous I didn’t think of it first. Last time I got mobbed by a bunch of reporters, I had to make up a lie about being late for a date with that singer, Carly Kendall. That also made all the gossip sites run articles on people speculating that I’m dating her. Some of them even said Carly and I got secretly married and eloped to Uzbekistan, of all places.”

“I never get that kind of coverage from the media,” I commented. “Then again, I’m not sure I want it.”

“It’s not as fun as it looks,” said Strike with a shrug. “Used to really bother me, but after a while, it becomes a game where you try to figure out the most ridiculous lies you can make and see how much the media will believe it. You’d be surprised at some of the fake rumors I planted out there which a lot of mainstream journalists still insist are totally true, despite not having any evidence for them.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. I hadn’t known this side of Strike before, but it was nice to see he had a sense of humor, at least. “That’s hilarious. Anyway, I think we should have some privacy here. The Braindome has a pretty strict ‘no journalists’ policy so you won’t have to worry about being mobbed by reporters here.”

“Wonderful,” said Strike. He looked around at the buildings surrounding us. “Showdown is a lot bigger than I thought it was. Looked small on all the maps I consulted.”

“Yeah, it’s size is deceptive,” I said. “And it’s definitely not boring. Lots of supervillains and criminals around here. Keeps us busy.”

“Right,” said Strike. “Anyway, now that we’re alone, I should explain why I’m here.”

“You said Dizzy was missing,” I said. “Right?”

Strike nodded. “Yeah, she is.”

I knew who Dizzy was. She was Strike’s girlfriend and another member of the New Heroes. I didn’t know her all that well, but I did know that she could induce dizziness and confusion in other people, hence her name. “What happened to her? Was she kidnapped?”

Strike folded his arms over his chest. “I think so, but …”

“But what?” I said, tilting my head to the side. “If she’s been kidnapped, then we have to find her.”

“Yes, but it’s slightly more complicated than that,” said Strike. “Strike that, it’s way more complicated than that.”

I frowned. “How much more complicated can a kidnapping be?”

Strike sighed. “Because she wasn’t just kidnapped. She is still here … sort of.”

“Okay, you’re not making any sense now,” I said. “Maybe you should start from the beginning. How did it begin?”

Strike looked away suddenly as if trying to think of how to describe his situation. “Even starting from the beginning is too complicated. I might as well just put it as bluntly as I can: The NHA kidnapped her. And I want her back.”