“I have to get rid of these bombs!” Flinch said, gasping for breath. “Do you have any sweets?”

The boys fumbled in their pockets, searching for a stick of gum or a forgotten piece of taffy, but there wasn’t any. Even the emergency lollipop Flinch kept in his shoe was gone. He cursed himself for his late-night snacking.

“I have to use the emergency stash,” Flinch said.

He pushed a button on his chest plate, which activated a panel that slid away, revealing a glass plate and a tiny red hammer. On the plate was written the warning BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY. EAT ONLY IN DESPERATE SITUATIONS. He shattered the glass, reached into the tiny compartment, and pulled out a candy bar. It was called the Heart Attack Bar—a nine-thousand-calorie concoction of nougat, coconut, chocolate, caramel, and almonds, with a filling of high-fructose syrup. It was a candy bar on steroids shot out of a cannon at a mountain of firecrackers.

“There must be another way!” Duncan cried. “They tested that thing on a dozen hamsters, and eleven of them exploded. Literally blew up!”

“What happened to the twelfth one?” Jackson asked.

“He stole a semitruck and drove it through a shopping mall,” Gluestick said.

“I saw that on the Internet!” Braceface said. “That was real?”

“I have no other choice,” Flinch told them as he unwrapped the candy. The chocolate glistened. It was a creamy, dreamy work of art. He had no idea what it would do to him, but the situation was desperate. “Well … here goes nothing.”

He took a bite of the candy bar and his taste buds exploded. The nuts and nougat swirled around his mouth, sticking to every surface, causing him to drool. Each bite assaulted his teeth like a jackhammer. It was the most delicious and painful thing he had ever tasted, and he let out a little scream that was part joy, part horror. His heart began to pound, and blood raced through his body like a tidal wave. He was pretty sure he saw angels telling him to “not go into the light.”

“Grrrgggaggggabbb! I AM MIGHTY!” he shouted as he beat on his chest.

“Flinch! Flinch!” Gluestick shouted over the boy’s excited yelps. “Are you OK?”

Flinch wanted to respond, but he couldn’t work his mouth right.

“Is there any chance that he died and his body is just so wound up, it doesn’t know yet?” Braceface asked.

“Flinch! If you can hear me, we need to get the bombs away from the city,” Gluestick said.

Flinch shook the clouds from his head and started to speed down the road. He underestimated the power at his command, and slammed face-first into a bus, nearly tipping it over. “Sorry!” he cried.

“What are you doing with the bombs?” Pufferfish asked through the com-link.

“NO … TIME … GRRAAGGH!!!” Flinch said as he ran. “NEED … GAAARGGGH … TOSS … RIVER … AIYYYYYYY!”

“You can’t toss them in the river!” Gluestick said. “The chemicals will destroy the fish life and then flow out into the English Channel. It will be devastating.”

“YAAAAAGHHH?” Flinch cried, though what he was wondering was where he could dump the bombs if the river was out of the question. Scanning the horizon, he found his answer. In the distance he saw a tower soaring high above the Paris skyline. It was made of wrought iron girders and its tip touched the clouds.

“TOWER?”

“Tower? You mean the Eiffel Tower,” Gluestick said.

“YESSSSSSSSS! WHEEZER! TOWER! MEET!” Flinch screamed, slipping into a string of nonsense words because the sugar had overwhelmed him. He took off like a streak, leaving his teammates behind, and bounded down crowded cobblestone alleys.

“BOOM! KAPOW! EXPLOSIONS! AAARGGGH!” he shouted to the people in his way, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. They just looked at him like he was crazy. So he had to dart back and forth like a spastic bumblebee, zigging and zagging down one street and then another, all the time checking the horizon for the Eiffel Tower.

He sped across the Charles de Gaulle Bridge, scattering terrified pigeons. The bridge spanned the Seine, the waterway that cut Paris in two, and led him closer to the tower. After dashing through a park, he reached the tower’s base. The place was full of tourists, and the French police were trying to evacuate them. He spotted a couple of familiar faces—Pufferfish and Wheezer—and a strange man wearing a mask with a clock painted on it and an overcoat covered in real alarm clocks. He was in handcuffs and yammering about his master plan.

“You foolish children. Don’t you know with whom you are dealing? I am Captain Kapow, the mad bomber! Do you think you can stop me? My intellect is beyond anything you can even imagine.”

“Agent Brand is going to love this,” Braceface said as he and Gluestick arrived on a motor scooter formed out of Jackson’s superbraces. “Aren’t we supposed to keep a low profile?”

“You’re the one riding a moped that is coming out of your mouth,” Wheezer said.

“We’ll worry about the fallout later,” Pufferfish said. “Flinch, what’s your plan?”

Flinch pointed a shaky finger toward the top of the tower. “UP!! SKY!!!” he said, still struggling to speak through the sugar overload.

“That’s crazy!” Pufferfish cried.

“That’s Flinch,” Gluestick said.

“You’ll never make it!” Kapow roared, his words broken by a series of obnoxious high-pitched giggles. “Your time is almost up. I may not have gotten to cave in the city, but by bringing the bombs here, you have unwittingly helped me destroy one of the most recognizable tourist attractions in the world!”

“Yawn,” Matilda said, as she intertwined her arms around Flinch’s waist. “You clearly have no idea who we are. We’re the kids they send when James Bond can’t get it done.”

With a squeeze of her inhalers, she and Flinch blasted into the sky. The tower’s graceful girders flew by in a blur. Wheezer landed on the highest platform, where she and Flinch now stood completely alone.

“Hand over the bombs,” Wheezer said. “I can fly up into the stratosphere and let them go off where no one will be hurt.”

“NO! GRAAAGGGH!” Flinch dug into his pants and removed the explosives. Then, using every ounce of power he could muster, he hurled the bombs, one by one, into the sky. They flew higher and higher until he could no longer see them. When they exploded, there was a massive fireball, and the shock wave sent Wheezer and Flinch tumbling off the observation deck and into the air.

Flinch saw the ground approaching fast, but then Wheezer’s inhaler rockets were blasting in his ears and he was no longer falling.

“You’ve got quite an arm there, buddy,” Wheezer said. “You know, if this whole ‘saving the world’ business doesn’t work out, I hear the Nationals are looking for a new pitcher.”

Flinch could hardly speak. The shock of the Heart Attack Bar, and then the subsequent draining of all its power, had exhausted him. “I am mighty,” he said with a whimper.

“Good job, shaky,” Pufferfish said through the com-link. “Your first mission in charge and you save Paris. Pretty sweet.”

Suddenly, there was a rumbling sound from below. Flinch and Wheezer hovered to get a good look. Several avenues and streets began to crumble and give way. A few apartment buildings sunk into the ground and were swallowed whole. Cars vanished, trees disappeared, and even a small park was pulled into the destruction. The damage snaked through five neighborhoods before it stopped.

“I thought we got all the bombs!” Wheezer said.

“That’s not from the bombs,” Pufferfish groaned as her voice came on the com-link. “Flinch must have knocked down too many tunnel walls. There wasn’t enough to hold up the streets, and they collapsed under their own weight.”

Flinch gaped at the destruction and then did what he did best. He freaked out.