A crowd of onlookers clapped as if they were watching a movie shoot. Flinch smiled and waved. He had never had anyone cheer for him. “Should we sign autographs?” he asked the others.

“There he goes, taking all the credit,” Pufferfish grumbled.

“Just like always,” Gluestick snarled.

Flinch turned to face his friends. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve taken the glory for our hard work,” Braceface said. He looked flushed and ill.

“I’m sure you’ll go back to the base and laugh about it,” Gluestick said. “Well, we’ve stood in your shadow for far too long, Flinch. It’s time the real brains of this team were given the credit they deserve!”

Gluestick raised his hands and looked ready to coat him in glue. Jackson transformed his braces into a giant trident. Pufferfish punched her fist into her other hand. There was no place to go.

“You shouldn’t have laughed at me!” Gluestick said.

“He shouldn’t have laughed at me!” Braceface said.

“He was laughing at me first,” Gluestick said. “And when he laughed at me, it was louder and more hurtful. I should get to kill him.”

“No! The Prince of Paste will have his revenge!” Gluestick cried.

“No! Metal Mouth’s vengeance will not wait!”

The boys raged at each other and rushed to attack. Flinch bounded skyward to escape the dual attack, and the two boys accidentally turned their powers on each other. Gluestick coated Braceface with a thick layer of sticky syrup. Jackson was locked in place, but his braces were still active. He transformed them from a trident into a giant boot and kicked Duncan down the street.

“You’ll find that I’m a little harder to take down than those imbeciles,” Pufferfish said. Of all the members of the team, she was probably the least powerful. Her many allergies wouldn’t help her much in a fight. Still, the girl stood confidently with her hands on her hips.

“Pufferfish, you have to listen to me,” Flinch said. “You aren’t acting like yourself and—”

He was hoping for an argument, but he got something far more painful instead. Pufferfish took a running start, leaped into the air, and kicked him in the chest. He fell backward, stunned.

“You have all underestimated me,” she said, standing over him. “You think I have the weakest upgrades, but you have no idea what I’m capable of!”

“You’re sick, Pufferfish,” Flinch said as he crawled to his feet. “I won’t fight you.”

“Then you will make it very easy for me to take you down,” she said, throwing three fast punches in a row. Flinch was ready for them, and deflected each one. Undeterred, his teammate followed her assault with several kicks. None of them connected because of Flinch’s speed, but he could feel their force. Pufferfish wanted to hurt him.

“You think I don’t know you’re laughing at me?” Pufferfish said. “When Brand gave you this mission, he chuckled. I heard him. He wanted to embarrass me and put me in my place. He’s intimidated by how smart I am. All of you are!” She attacked with three karate chops followed by a roundhouse kick that, if it had connected, would certainly have taken Flinch’s head off his shoulders.

“Look at you!” she continued. “You’re bewildered. You have no idea what to do. You’re not leadership material. You’re the team freak. The joke. You’re the comic relief, pal. You’re only on the team because Brand has no idea what else to do with you!”

Flinch tried not to listen, but the words hurt. He was the freak. He knew that. But was he a joke? Brand had never put him in charge until recently, and he probably wouldn’t have done it this time if the others weren’t vulnerable to the virus.

Pufferfish kicked him in the face several times, then in the knee, knocking him down. The pain was searing, like he had hopped into a frying pan. He wasn’t sure he could stand, let alone get away.

“Oh, did I hurt you?” Pufferfish taunted. “I can tell. I’m allergic to the weaknesses of others, which means my upgrades can help me pinpoint exactly where to hit you. Like for instance, your right shoulder still hurts from the fight with Wheezer.”

Pufferfish ground the heel of her boot into his shoulder. It seared with pain.

“And now I can tell you want to get up and run away,” she said, scratching her scalp. “I can feel what you are planning before you do it. There’s nothing you can do that I can’t sense before you try.”

She was right. He scrambled to his feet and tried to punch her, but she deflected it with ease. All of his attacks missed the mark. Pufferfish seemed to know when they were coming as if he had written down all his moves and e-mailed them to her the day before. Her head bobbed and weaved. She ducked away from a kick at just the right time, and while his rib cage was facing her, she socked him with a powerful shot. It nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“Oh, did that sting?”

“I’m fine,” Flinch gasped.

“You’ve forgotten that I’m allergic to liars,” she said, before launching another attack. She connected with his ribs nearly six times before he backed up, hugging his arms to himself and feeling his body’s agony. “You look worried, shaky. I don’t need any superpowers to see that. I suspect one or two more punches might break one of those ribs.”

Flinch was sure she was right, but he could do nothing to stop her. Everything he tried she could see a mile away.

But then it dawned on him. What if he were unpredictable? What if even he wasn’t sure what he might do?

He turned the knob on his harness all the way to its lowest setting, stopping it from regulating the sugar in his body. At Level Zero he was all hyper and all power without any of the pesky control. She may have called him a freak, but she hadn’t seen anything yet.

The next few minutes were a blur to Flinch. He knew there was a lot of jumping and running and bouncing and tossing. His voice may have sounded like a cartoon duck’s. He also remembered the look of dread on Pufferfish’s face when he raced around her like a hyperactive hurricane.

“What are you doing?” she cried over the wind he stirred up.

“I don’t have the faintest idea!” he shouted, zipping around and around her at top speed. The mini-twister lifted the poor girl off the ground, blinded her eyes with trash and dirt, and sucked all the oxygen from her lungs. A moment later she was unconscious. He eased his speed and caught her falling body, then held his ear to her chest. She was breathing.

He pinched his nose. “Boss, they’re all sick,” he said.

“I know, Flinch,” Agent Brand said. “Bring them home.”

The Antagonist was convinced that his first date with his new girlfriend was ruined. First, he burned dinner. Second, he forgot to get flowers. Third, he was attacked by ninjas who fought so hard and long that the pint of ice cream he had brought home for dessert melted in the bag.

But Miss Information didn’t seem to mind. All she wanted to do was cuddle on the couch and watch television. The news was filled with fires, chaos, and mass destruction—all caused by the villain virus. The Antagonist was pretty sure he had met his soul mate. They munched on popcorn and witnessed the sorrow of others, relishing the horrors that threatened every block.

“Look, sweetie pie, there’s a mall in Minneapolis encased in a block of ice,” Miss Information said. “Your plan is working perfectly.”

The Antagonist grinned. “Of course it is. I’m a genius.”

“My honey bun is so diabolical.”

He blushed beneath his mask.

“I have some good news for you,” she continued. “The NERDS are incapacitated.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Honey, I’m not just a pretty face hidden behind a mask with a skull painted on it,” she said. “I know everything.”