The Adventures of Kid Combat Volume One: A Secret Lost (2 page)

“Last warning, Kid Combat. Don’t make us hurt
you,” the big, self-proclaimed leader of the three men said.

Kid quickly weighed his options and came up
with an idea.

“All right. Just stay right there. I’ll give
it to you,” Kid said, waving his arms to the side. But it was just
a ploy to buy more time.

Gears, meanwhile, was speechless. His eyes
were riveted to the screen, and his jaw hung open. His hands were
over his headphones, and he desperately listened to every sound in
the room. He couldn’t believe Kid would give up the envelope.

And of course, Kid really had no intention of
doing so, but his words made the men stop. They stood in a line as
Kid reached in his suit coat pocket and felt for the envelope. With
a flick of his wrist, the envelope emerged, and Kid stood there
flapping it above his head.

“It’s all here. Take it.” He flipped the
envelope onto the long narrow table to his right. But the toss was
nothing more than a distraction, for Kid’s suit was lined with
surprises.

The letter sailed through the air, flipping
end over end before landing on the table. The men’s eyes were fixed
on the envelope as it gently touched down. With the men’s gaze
elsewhere, Kid curled his left hand down and reached for the button
on his shirt sleeve, just another of the many gadgets he would use
this night.

Disguised as an ordinary button was a small
transmitter, carved to exactly match the opposite arm’s white,
four-hole button. With one press from Kid, a radio transmission was
sent. Tuned to that frequency was a small compartment on Kid’s
right shoe. Instantly, it sprung open, and out shot a small white
tube. A stream of a clear liquid spilled onto the floor. Oil.

Clump, clump, clump
. The sound of the
men’s shoes returned as they, with vile looks, again approached Kid
Combat .

Kid waited. His full head of blonde hair
never moved as his eyes focused on one empty spot on the wall. His
mouth did move, though, as a smirk came over his face. The men
exchanged looks of confidence, but little did they know of their
impending fate. Closer and closer they got.

Gears was about to have a heart attack at age
ten.

Three steps away.

Then two …

“What the … !” screamed the first man as he
slipped, tumbling backward. His arms flailed about as he looked for
support to stop his fall. Unfortunately for his two friends, he
caught their shoulders and pulled both of them down with him. All
three tumbled to the floor with a loud thud.

Kid didn’t miss a beat as he spun around and,
with a running leap, jumped over the fallen men. He made it over
the men with no problem, but the trail of oil was longer than he
had expected.

He hit the slick and instantly shot along the
floor as if he had been fired from a cannon. As he gained speed,
Kid’s outstretched arm barely made contact with the envelope on the
table. His grip was loose, but he retrieved the envelope.

As Kid slid, he rapidly approached the other
side of the room and a large pane glass window. Like a pro surfer,
Kid rode the oil slick straight for the window. On his way, he
managed to latch onto what appeared to be a rather expensive vase
with his free hand and took aim at the window. With all his energy,
Kid flung the vase at the window.

As the vase tumbled through the air on a
collision course with the window, the only thought that crossed
Kid’s mind was what kind of dismount to perform. He was calm and
cool.

The vase crashed loudly into the window,
shattering both. As the broken pieces of the window rained down in
front of him, Kid leaped into the air through the newly formed
hole. A quick somersault later, he found himself outside.

Kid Combat had escaped the mansion.

Gears sat back in amazement. Taking his first
breath in what seemed an eternity, he then released a deep sigh of
relief.

“That’s why he’s Kid Combat.”

Kid jumped up. He was now on the front porch
of the mansion and needed to make a quick exit. Unfortunately, it
wouldn’t be that easy. He turned quickly in all directions, making
sure no one was around. He was alone, but that wouldn’t last. More
voices came over his earpiece. This time, it was the twins.

“Glad to see you made it out, Kid. We’ll be
there shortly.”

“Hurry,” Kid exclaimed back at them, “or
there won’t be anything to pick up!”

The mansion, the biggest house in town, was
owned by the richest man in town, Phillip Arthur Jones. It sat on
Cottage Hill Drive in the heart of downtown Elmcrest. Three stories
high, the house was painted white and was flanked in front by four
white marble pillars. Windows adorned every surface imaginable,
from huge picture windows in each room to skylights the size of
small swimming pools on the roof. The most significant of the
windows spanned the second and third floors. The architect, wanting
to give the house a unique flair, designed large circular bay
windows that decorated each side of the front door and spanned two
whole floors. The mansion was the elite of the elite.

As impressive as the house was, it paled in
comparison to the property itself. The sides and back lot of the
grounds were enclosed in twelve-foot-high granite walls, which were
guarded day and night. The front yard had a black metal fence and
gate that lined the property and it too was guarded all the
times.

The mansion was meant to be set apart from
society. Jones wanted it that way. As Kid was starting to figure
out, it was as hard to get out as it was to get in.

The three henchmen finally stumbled out of
the front door, angrily looking for the intruder. Kid saw them and
quickly ducked around the side of the house. For a brief second, he
risked a peek back around the corner.

“You go check in,” one man said to another,
pointing to his left. “Tell them he’s outside.” Turning to the
remaining man, he continued. “You, go that way. I’ll check the
front.” And with that, the three dispersed.

Kid raced down the side of the house. With
about fifteen feet between him and the granite wall, he hunkered
down next to the house to avoid the guards who were making their
rounds. Searchlights danced in front of him and lit up the backyard
as if it were a bright summer day. Just then, an alarm blared, and
quickly, everyone within earshot knew something was going on at the
Jones mansion.

Escape would not be easy.

Kid made his way along the side of the house
and crept behind a bush that was only inches away from one of the
patrolling guards.

The backyard was massive, the length of a
football field. From Kid’s perspective, it went on forever. Rows
and rows of bushes lined a white, loose gravel driveway leading to
the street. Trees the size of small buildings were scattered across
the lawn.

The yard was pristine. For an instant, Kid
imagined that the park he played in, Maple Forest, was this
beautiful. How fun it must be to run and play in such a big area,
or to play a game of baseball on grass that green. The dream
flashed quickly out of his mind, though, and Kid went back to the
business at hand.

By this time, word of Kid’s escape had gotten
out. The dozen men dressed in their gray uniforms dumped out of the
house and searched the grounds with flashlights. Their beams
scattered throughout the lawn and lit up the sky like small
fireworks.

“Search every inch. He’s here somewhere!”
shouted a man dressed in all black. He stood alone on the rooftop
with a spotlight shining down on the backyard. He needed to find
Kid Combat. He paced the roof from side to side as the men down
below yelled back and forth to each other.

“Anything on your end?”

“No. Nothing over here.”

“Where could he be?”

Kid was waiting for his signal. Still
crouching inches from one of Jones’s men, he waited. And waited.
Where could the twins be? he wondered. The man in front of him
paced over a ten-foot section guarding the entrance to the side of
the house. Every few seconds, different voices came over the
guard’s radio transmitter with updates. It wasn’t going so well-
there was no sign of Kid Combat.

Seconds seemed like days to Kid. Finally, the
call came.

“Kid, we’ll be there in three minutes. Be
ready.”

The twins were to rendezvous with Kid
somewhere in the backyard, which at the moment, looked like center
stage at a rock concert. Kid had to get the guards to the front
yard.

He unbuttoned his three-button suit coat and
quickly opened a compartment on his belt buckle. A waxy material
emerged, and he placed it gently on the middle of a leaf he took
from the bush he hid behind. Another trip to the belt produced a
second compound that would be applied—very carefully—to the first.
Kid rolled the leaf up and held it in his palm.

“Here goes nothing,” Kid muttered as he
pressed the two compounds together. He then silently started
counting backward from thirty.

He snuck back down the side of the house. He
looked up to his left to see a guard walking on top of the granite
wall. The guard was using his flashlight to light his own way down
the wall, and not to monitor the bushes, where he would’ve seen
Kid. A very costly mistake.

Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. The numbers
seemed to be ticking off faster as Kid got nervous. His mind became
a blur, and he wondered if Samantha said the delay was thirty
seconds or twenty? Too late now, he thought.

He once again approached the front of the
house. Thirteen, twelve, eleven. And with one great heave, he
launched the leaf into a group of four men standing in the front
yard. Kid didn’t wait for the ignition, scurrying back alongside
the house and ducking behind the same bush. Five, four, three, two,
one.

Nothing.

Hmm. Maybe it was forty-five seconds, Kid
thought.

The leaf fizzed and sizzled for a moment.
Then, it bubbled. None of the men noticed the chemical reaction.
Then, about three seconds later, the leaf exploded. The flash and
the loud bang were not to injure, only to disorient. Kid would
never hurt anyone—even Jones’s henchmen.

The blast was loud, though, and big. The
flash from the detonation lit up the night sky and the mansion as
if it were high noon. The four unsuspecting men were instantly,
though temporarily, blinded by the flash. The garrison of guards
occupying the backyard fled from there and headed for the front. As
they did, they ran right past the bush Kid was behind.

Kid raised his head and slowly stood up. He
momentarily watched the guards foolishly follow his lead. Like mice
led to cheese, it was easier than he expected.

“We’re above the mansion, Kid. What’s your
status?” a voice rang out from Kid’s earpiece. It came across more
muffled than usual. The wear and tear on the small device was
starting to show.

“Heading there now,” Kid replied.

He took one last look around, gave up his
hiding spot, and bolted for the backyard. His legs pumped, and he
made his way around the corner and to the gravel drive. His
distraction seemed to work, as the backyard was empty, but the man
on the roof didn’t fall for his diversion.

“There he is!” the man yelled. His voice
echoed through the night. The commotion in the front yard stopped
as the eight remaining men broke for the backyard. Kid looked over
his shoulder and saw the men coming. And they were gaining. His
small legs were no match for his attackers. He took two steps for
every one of theirs. And worse still, he was at least fifty yards
from the back wall. He was not going to outrun anyone.

“We’re right above you,” spouted a familiar
voice into the earpiece. It was Wedge, one half of the twins. He
was coming in fast, about ten yards behind and above Kid. He flew a
makeshift hang glider that barely looked airworthy. The brown wings
sported yellow stripes, and the edges of the entire structure were
frayed from use. The metal chassis appeared to be solid, but, in
actuality, it was held together by layers of duct tape. Wedge was
flanked by his twin, Timmy, who was the younger of the two. He had
not been assigned a code name yet but was being referred to as
“Tweedledee” in the interim.

“Tweedledee, get ready for pickup,” Wedge
said to his brother as he steered the craft closer to Kid, who was
running at full steam below them. Timmy undid one of his safety
straps and dangled himself below the craft. He bent at the belly
and extended his right arm down.

“Keep it steady, Wedge!” Timmy roared as he
hung upside down in midair. About a foot below him, Kid sprinted
down the gravel road. Behind him were the racing footsteps of eight
men gaining on them. It would be a photo finish.

Wedge lowered the rickety hang glider, but
the unstable wings made it hard for him to control the apparatus.
As the craft came within inches of Kid, it caught a sudden gust of
wind, and the shock forced Wedge to pull up. The glider raised
about two feet before Wedge could gain control. The metal frame
moaned with strain, and poor Timmy bounced up and down like a
rubber ball on a slick surface.

Three meters. That’s all that separated the
men from Kid. Three meters from getting caught and losing
everything he had worked for. Kid’s little legs began to ache from
the long sprint. But there was no thought in his mind of slowing.
And there was no thought in his mind of giving up. The only thing
that occupied his mind was reaching Timmy’s hand.

Timmy stretched as Wedge lowered the craft
again. This time, he descended more slowly to avoid an updraft.
Wedge held the craft’s height, and Kid’s fingers sought Timmy’s
outreached hand.

“Just a little more. Come on, Kid. You can do
it!” Timmy yelled.

Kid’s palm met with Timmy’s, and they locked
onto each other’s wrist. Sighs of relief came from both boys as
Wedge pulled the craft up. It struggled, but it began to ascend.
The men below tried, and failed, to grab the small boy’s ankles as
the hang glider lifted.