Thingamabob looked up at the ceiling in his group’s common room. Why was the

  alarm going off? He stood up from the table he used for a work bench. One of the

  prisoners must have gotten loose from their cell.

  He assembled his arsenal as his group gathered around. They had changed to civilian

  clothes like he had. No one wanted to wear a mask at home.

  “Puff, get up to the operations command and find out what’s going on,” said Bob. He

  secured the last pieces of his gadgets together hastily. “Gaze, start looking for the

  problem. Troop and Clown Girl, start searching the facility for whatever is going on.

  Don’t forget to call in.”

  “Do you think one of them got out?,” asked Clown Girl. She had traded her striped

  shirt and baggy pants for a track suit with BRUINS on the back. Her make up was a

  pale imitation of what it usually was when she was in action.

  “I don’t know,” said Bob. “Go find out.”

  “On it,” said Clown Girl. She headed for the stairs. “Come on, Monkey Boy. Last one

  upstairs is a rotten pistachio.”

  Troop threw his long arms up in the air with a grunt. He branched out as he headed

  for the stairs and the elevator. His plaid shirt and jeans made it look like he had

  mugged a lumberjack for his clothes.

  “The cells are empty, Bob,” said Gaze. “The prisoners are spread out and moving

  around the facility.”

  Puff appeared, pulling on his purple coat over his shorts and T-shirt. He shook his

  head.

  “The brains started fighting in the factory,” reported Puff. “We might have a

  meltdown. Gilbert not happy with his pets.”

  “I told him this might happen.” Bob pulled on his arsenal over his short sleeved shirt

  and chinos. “Gaze, vector our guys on the prisoners. Puff is going to take me up to

  the factory, before helping Clown Girl and Troop.”

  “Don’t let them blow the place up, Bob,” said Gaze. He pulled on the radio set he

  used to keep in touch with the rest of the Squad. “I don’t think Clown Girl and Troop

  grabbed their radios.”

  “Get me up to the factory, Puff,” said Bob. “Then get radio sets to the others. Then

  help them find the prisoners and put them back in their cells.”

  “Will do, boss,” said Puff. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I can get the job done.

  I have a can do spirit, and an already done brain. Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s go,” said Bob. “The sooner we sort things out, the faster we can go on our

  vacation.”

  “We’re already at the beach,” said Puff. Transportation cut off his diatribe about how

  much he wanted sand and ocean after living underground too long. He stepped back

  as sirens warned him of imminent calamity.

  “Get the radios and help the others,” said Bob. “I’ll handle this.”

  Puff vanished between strobes from the alarm lights.

  “What’s going on, Gilbert?,” asked Bob. Gilbert Handley was responsible for the

  smooth running of the factory and extorting ideas from the two brains he held captive

  near the ceiling of the floor. He looked like someone had kicked him somewhere

  sensitive.

  “I don’t know,” said Gilbert. “Everything was fine a few minutes ago. Then they

  started fighting inside their chambers.”

  “What do you mean fighting?,” said Bob. He walked over and examined the readings

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  for himself. “They’re just brains in jars.”

  “They have limited control of the factory,” said Gilbert. “Both of these guys were

  heavy duty minds before we locked them in. All they needed was to find an outlet to

  take over everything while no one was looking.”

  “The fact that we don’t have anything to offer them can’t help us,” said Bob. “I think

  I can pull the plug on this. I need you here to try to shut them down from this console.

  Do whatever you think you have to until I give you an all clear.”

  “Do what you have to do,” said Gilbert. “If they start exerting control outside of this

  room, there’s no telling how many they could kill while locking us out.”

  Bob didn’t need the reminder. The last thing he wanted was to go up in a fireball

  because the two brains decided to settle their problem by doing something to sabotage

  the power source for the headquarters.

  It was supposed to be impossible, but what they were doing at the moment was

  supposed to be impossible too.

  Bob pulled his power rod from its holster. He pointed it at the machinery, tracing the

  readings as fast as he could. He ignored the lightning playing around the room now.

  He knelt and took aim at a cable under some of the equipment. He pushed the trigger

  and a beam of light cut the cable in half.

  He looked around. He looked at his wand. The readings looked normal. He smiled.

  He had saved millions of dollars with a two cent expenditure of energy.

  “Kill the alarms, Gilbert,” he shouted at the chief technician. “I can’t hear myself

  think in this racket.”

  The lights still flashed, but the sirens were silent. Bob smiled. The noise was giving

  him a headache.

  “Okay,” said Gilbert. “Everything looks like things are going back to normal. You

  might have saved everyone in the base. Good job.”

  “Let’s double-check to make sure our masterminds can’t do anything like this again

  before I go,” said Bob. “Then I have to help out the rest of the Squad. Our prisoners

  got loose in the excitement.”

  “All right,” said Gilbert. “Let’s power down everything in here, and see what we can

  do to reengage the safety locks. Then we can examine everything without worrying

  about a stray welding torch, or a shock.”

  “Right,” said Bob. “You might want to detach their container while you’re checking

  everything out.”

  “Right,” said Gilbert. He pulled several switches and pushed a button. The globe at

  the top of the room dropped lower on a boom handle. The ready light turned red to

  signify they were trapped in the globe and couldn’t touch anything on the outside.

  “Can you do the check on your own?,” asked Bob. He could run it faster, but he had

  to get to work and help his team.

  “Sure,” said Gilbert. “I need to get my assistants back in here to help out.”

  “All right,” said Bob. He jogged to the door. “I’ll be back to help you as fast as I can.”

  Gilbert grunted an acknowledgment. Once the check was done to make sure the

  underground building was safe, he would have to figure out how the brains had gotten

  enough access to try to kill them all. One of his assistants must have done something

  to allow them more control.

  Then he would have that man shot for being dumb as a box of rocks.

  Bob headed for the stairs. He didn’t feel like taking an elevator until Gilbert had

  finished his check. He didn’t want an accident that could have been avoided.

  He idly wondered what had thrown the brains into conflict, but decided that was

  something to worry about later. First he had to help his team and get the five prisoners

  back in their cell. Luckily, his nullifier should help with that.

  Now that they were unable to do anything to the factory, they would have to stew

  about their confinement until something was done.

  He checked his radio. He needed a report where he could be the most useful. Troop

  and Clown Girl should be able to handle all of them but Corona. He would have to

  take her out with his wand.

  He noted that he would have to dart her as soon as he cut off her power. He didn’t

  want the woman to strangle him like she had been trying to do to Troop.

  “Gaze?,” Bob said into the radio. “Can you hear me?”

  “I’m here, Bob,” said Gaze. “Finch is two floors up from where you are. Puff is trying

  to hold her in place for Mercer’s men to try to recapture her.”

  “I’m on the way,” said Bob. He headed up the stairs.

  Puff should be a great distraction with his teleport ability. He was hard to hit, and

  could strike from any direction. He should have things wrapped up by the time Bob

  arrived to help him out.

  Bob pushed out of the stairwell. He expected to find Finch a prisoner again. Then

  they could concentrate on the more powerful escapees. He found a group of men

  spread out over the floor with broken bones and some crying.

  He paused at that.

  Where was Finch? Where was Puff? He advanced cautiously down the corridor. One

  of the men groaned from the pain of a broken face, and a broken leg.

  Their victory had been easy in Seattle. He realized it wasn’t going to be that easy

  now.