Thursday, January 28, 2010

You Chose To Fight The Injustice Gang

“No way!” Gold said, “we’re not going down without a fight!  Right, Metal Men?”

“Right!” came the reply, in unison, from each member of the team.

Gold started giving orders.  “Iron, you form Lead into a cannonball and launch it at the Shark.  Mercury, you distract Ocean Master—watch out for his trident!  Tina—spin a web around Captain Boomerang.”

“On it,” Tina said.  She sprang towards Captain Boomerang and drew herself into a gossamer thread and wrapped herself around him as if he were a giant bug in a glimmering spider’s web.  Despite Boomerang’s loud protests, which were, no doubt, a string of rather colorful and exotic obscenities, thankfully nothing could be heard by the children except muffled cries of exasperation.

Abra Kadabra raised his hands, but before he could send a spell towards the Metal Men, Gold moved into action, stretching himself into a gleaming golden sheet.  Kadabra’s spell reflected off the golden mirror and was cast back onto himself.  He fell to the ground, writhing amidst blue-green crackling swirls of evil magic.

Gold looked down at the unconscious villain.  If he were human and not a robot, he would probably be awfully tired.

“Wh-wh-wh-at about me, Gold?  I m-m-may not be as strong as Iron or as precious as you, but I what can I do?” Tin asked.

“You can do something very important for me, Tin,” Gold said, looking down at the diminutive robot, “I need you to go up to the skylight and block off all the sunlight.  If we rob I.Q. of his exposure to the sun, it will rob him of his intelligence.”

Tin saluted.  “I w-w-won’t disappoint you, Mr. Gold!”  He stretched up to the ceiling, flattened himself into tin foil, and covered up the skylight above.

The room dimmed so that only the brittle illumination of fluorescent lighting filled the room.  I.Q. fell to the floor, clutching his forehead.  The children screamed and scattered and that’s one particularly fervent scream caught Gold’s attention.

On the stage, Floronic Man had grabbed hold of Tommy Higgins.  The roots from two potted plants, which moments ago had sat harmlessly on either side of the stage, were now wrapped around the boy’s neck.

“Come no further,” the Floronic Man said, “or I shall squeeze the life from this boy.”  He wrapped his vined fingers around the boy’s arm and pulled him across the stage.  He climbed down off the stage and plunged into the crowd.  The children screamed and parted like a sea of metal filings repelled by a very angry magnet.  He stood in the doorway to the corridor, holding the boy next to him.

Tina looked at Gold.  “What do we do?” she asked.

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