Ms. Holiday stood nearby. Her face was dark with worry.
“No cupcakes, Ms. Holiday?” Flinch asked.
“I don’t think this is the best idea, Julio,” the librarian said. “Be careful.”
Flinch promised he would.
“Dude, you have to be the coolest kid we know,” Jessie said as he and the rest of Flinch’s new friends gathered around him. “Do you get to do stuff like this all the time?”
Flinch thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Where do we sign up?” Toad croaked.
“Good luck, bro,” Wyatt said, handing Flinch a can of black spray paint.
“What’s this for?”
“You’re going somewhere no human being has ever gone before,” Hooper said. “You should leave your tag.”
Flinch tapped a button on the front of his chest plate, which opened a compartment just big enough for the can. He grinned, thinking about marking the inside of Heathcliff’s skull with the words FLINCH WAS HERE!
He put on his helmet, and the scientists pulled the chains to hoist him over the tank. “Agent Flinch, this is Benjamin,” Flinch heard through his com-link. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Flinch said.
“Good,” the little blue orb’s voice said. “A thought just occurred to me. They say if you want to stop the bad guy you have to get inside his head. This time they mean it quite literally. Good luck, Agent.”
The scientists lowered Flinch into the tank. There was a dramatic dip in temperature, and he shivered until his body adjusted. He was halfway submerged when he suddenly plummeted to the bottom.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he peered through the saline and the tank’s glass. He saw some kind of commotion, though it was difficult to make out.
“It’s nothing,” Brand said. “One of the scientists is showing symptoms. The others have him under control.”
Flinch took a big swig of fruit punch and felt the sugar race through him. “OK. I’m ready. Let’s get pequeño!”
“Good luck, Julio,” Dr. Kim told him, and then she turned on the beam. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for it to slam into his body and nearly knock him out. This was followed by a wave of cold all around him that made his teeth chatter. Then he felt as if he were falling off a cliff. He opened his eyes, but nothing looked familiar. The tank was gone, as were the hazy forms of the scientists and his friends. He was awash in fluid. He tried to swim but could do nothing but flop about in the thick and syrupy liquid.
“You still with us, Flinch?” Brand’s voice came through his com-link.
“Loud and clear, sir,” Flinch said. “Did it work?”
Benjamin’s voice was next. “Perfectly. You’re in the hypodermic needle now. Dr. Kim is preparing the injection.”
“How did it feel?” Agent Brand asked.
“Kooky.”
“As good a description as any,” Brand said. Flinch wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard the man chuckle. “OK, Agent. Prepare for the injection.”
“I’m ready,” Flinch said, and then he was swept away in the liquid. The lights went out and he was suddenly floating, untethered, and unable to get his bearings.
“Flinch?” Dr. Kim’s voice filled his head.
“Yes, I’m fine. I can’t see anything, but I’m fine.”
Benjamin’s voice was next. “I’m going to remotely activate some of the more basic functions of your containment suit.”
Two lamps on either side of Flinch’s helmet lit up. What he saw was incredible. He was swirling around gigantic, yellowish blobs that kept slamming into one another. He reached out to touch one and was surprised to find they were spongy and sticky.
“What are these things?” he asked.
“Just a second while we pull up visuals,” Ms. Holiday said. “OK, there it is. Oh my. That’s amazing.”
“Flinch, what you’re seeing are fat cells,” Dr. Kim told him. “They’re harmless, but you’re going to have to use your boosters to move through them.”
“Is there a lot of fat in a brain?” Flinch asked.
“Um, Flinch, we couldn’t inject you into Heathcliff’s brain. His skull is too tough for that. We had to find someplace softer.”
He heard the troublemakers laugh.
“Where am I?”
“Um … well—”
“Where am I?” Flinch cried.
“You’re in Heathcliff’s butt!” Wyatt roared.
The Antagonist walked up the sidewalk to Thomas Knowlton Middle School and eyed the steel barricades on the doors and windows. This wasn’t what he’d expected. He reached into his pocket for his phone, dialed a number, and waited.
“Hi, honey bear!” Miss Information said when she answered. “I hope you’re feeling evil.”
“I’m feeling very evil, but there’s a problem. There’s no way into the school. It looks as if it’s on some kind of lockdown. I’m afraid they knew we were coming.”
“Does someone have the boo-boo face?”
“No.”
“Is my shmuggins feeling saddy-sad?”
“It’s just depressing. I wanted to take over the world today!”
“Shmookin, kissy bear, don’t be sad!” Miss Information said. “I’m working on fixing the problem right now. You’ll be inside sooner than you can say ‘I love my superawesome girlfriend.’”
“I love my superawesome girlfriend,” he said.
Miss Information laughed. “Oh, silly, be patient.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” he groaned.
“Just relax,” she said. “Listen, evil is afoot and I have to get back to it. I’ll see you soon, my little love monkey.”
He put the phone in his pocket and looked around at the surrounding neighborhood. It was a bright, clear day. The street was empty. The circumstances were ideal for taking over the world. He sat down on the steps outside the school and wondered how far away the closest convenience store might be. He could go for a soda—maybe a bag of chips. World-conquering gave him the munchies. But he was feeling lazy. What if his girlfriend opened the school and he wasn’t there to storm in and take over?
No, he would just plant himself where he was and wait.
A car drove by.
Two birds fought over a worm.
Somewhere, someone was using a leaf blower.
He lay on his back and took out his phone again.
She hadn’t called. Luckily, he had just downloaded sudoku. That would keep him busy.
Flinch was flying through the fat cells using the containment suit’s foot boosters. Occasionally, he flew right into one of the cells and bounced off it as if he were in a bouncy castle. Eventually, he came across a massive tube.
“What am I seeing, Doc?” he asked.
“That’s the femoral artery, and you need to be inside it. It’s going to pump you up to the lungs. We can’t take you through the heart, which is the most direct route, because at your size its chambers would crush you with a single beat.”
“How do I get in?” Flinch asked. “There isn’t exactly a welcome mat.”
“You’re going to need the laser,” Dr. Kim told him. “Cut a hole just big enough to crawl through and no bigger. Platelets will come and repair the damage, but if you make it too big they won’t be able to get the job done and you’ll cause internal bleeding.”
“Great. Now I’m a surgeon,” Flinch grumbled. He pressed the button on his glove that activated the laser, then aimed carefully and fired. He cut a small incision, as he had been instructed, just big enough for his body, then fired his rocket boosters and flew right into the hole.