The Nameless Hero (18 page)

A little girl slipped through security and rushed toward me. She couldn’t have been more than eight, with a ponytail and big eyes that looked up at me like I was the most thrilling thing she’d ever seen.

“Nameless Hero!” she exclaimed over the sounds of screaming all around us. “I’m your biggest fan! Will you sign this for me?”

In one hand, the girl had a T-shirt with my face on it. In the other, she gripped a black marker. I still wasn’t used to this kind of thing, but the girl looked so excited—I didn’t want to disappoint her.

“I’ll be glad to.” I smiled, taking the marker from her. “What’s your name?”

Before she could answer, the girl staggered backward suddenly, pulled away from me by an unseen force. Trace—my invisible bodyguard.

“Wait,” I called, waving the girl’s marker. “I don’t mind—”

“Let’s go, Nameless.” Gavin guided me forcefully through the doors and into the hotel lobby. “Save the autographs for some other time. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

When I got to my room, my jaw dropped. The place was enormous, with windows looking out on Central Park and the buildings surrounding it. The couches and chairs
looked way too expensive for me to sit on. In a separate room, there was a king-sized bed with at least twenty cushions piled on top.

“This is all for
me
?”

I heard a cynical laugh beside Gavin that let me know Trace was in the entryway. “Beats staying a half mile beneath a tanning salon, huh, kid?”

“You know, you didn’t have to be so rough with that girl back there,” I said to the spot of air where Trace’s voice had come from. “I don’t mind signing a few autographs.”

“Sign one autograph and you’ll have to do it for everyone,” Trace said. “You’d be out there all night.”

“Better than you pushing around eight-year-olds.”

Gavin stepped forward. “I know this is an adjustment. We’ll work things out soon, I promise. The last couple of days have been hectic, to say the least. Give yourself a break. Order some room service—whatever you want. Enjoy yourself!”

When Gavin and Trace left, I dropped onto a sofa, relieved to be alone at last. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, letting the frantic insanity of the last few days fade from my mind. Then I picked up the phone and dialed zero.

A woman’s voice answered immediately. “Front desk. How may I help you?”

“Could I please order room service?”

“Absolutely, sir. What would you like?”

“Uh …” I thought about what Gavin had said.
Whatever you want
. I didn’t know when I’d have a chance like this
again, so why not take advantage of it? “I’d like a … pepperoni and peanut butter pizza, please. Extra cheese. And a—a lobster with ice cream on top.”

The voice on the other end of the line let out a surprised squeak. “I apologize, sir, but I believe there may have been a misunderstanding. You want ice cream … on your lobster?”

“That’s right. Chocolate-vanilla swirl, if you have it.”

“And pizza with—”

“Pepperoni and peanut butter. Can you make that?”

“Yes, sir, I believe so. But—”

“Great! And what kind of sodas do you have?”

In a slightly annoyed voice, the lady listed off about twelve different types.

“I’ll take all of them, please,” I said when she was done.

“All of them?”

“Yes, please. I’m the Nameless Hero,” I added, in case she needed to know.

There was a long pause, like maybe the lady was trying to decide whether this was a prank call.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I’ll just have to check with my manager.”

I could hear her whispering to someone. When she mentioned that the order was for the Nameless Hero, there was a sudden rustling on the other end of the line. The manager must’ve been wrestling the phone away from her, because a second later, a man’s deep voice was speaking in my ear.

“I’m terribly sorry for the confusion, Mr.… uh—Mr. Hero,” he said. “We don’t usually receive such … creative
orders. We’ll send the meal up to your room as soon as possible.”

While I waited for my room service to arrive, I dialed another number.

My mom answered on the second ring. As soon as I heard her voice, I realized how much I’d missed her and my dad. It’d been only a few days since I’d left home, but with everything that had happened, it felt like I hadn’t seen them in weeks.

“Joshua! It’s so wonderful to hear from you!” I had to hold the phone away to keep my mom’s excited squeal from splitting my eardrum. “How are you? How’s camp?”

I’d completely forgotten that my parents still thought I was at Gyfted & Talented summer camp. Here I was, fighting supervillains and staying in a five-star hotel, and all this time, my parents probably imagined me singing campfire songs and using my spontaneous combustion to make s’mores.

Not that I could tell them any different. Something gave me the feeling that they wouldn’t like the idea of the
New York Gazette
referring to their son as “the world’s hottest new superhero.”

“I’m so glad you called, son!” Dad joined the conversation on speakerphone. “Elliot’s been asking about you ever since you left. Can you believe it?”

“That’s … uh—nice.” I wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or concerned that our defective robot butler missed me.

“He’s made huge improvements over the last few days!” Dad went on. “That trick with the bell I showed you—it
was just the beginning. By the time you get back, I expect I’ll have most of the flaws worked out.”

“Hmph,” Mom said. She didn’t sound convinced.

“So have you heard about this new
superhero
who’s getting so much attention right now?” Dad pronounced the word “superhero” with the same tone he might have used to describe a mosquito buzzing around his ear.

“The Nameless Hero,” Mom said, sounding even less impressed. “That’s exactly what our culture needs. Yet
another
supercelebrity hack.”

“I’m sure he’s not
that
bad,” I said.

“Oh, come
on
!” I could hear the disdain in Dad’s voice. “You probably don’t have TVs at that camp of yours, but let me tell you—he was on practically every morning show today. Smiling and waving like he’s the greatest thing in the world.”

“He’s just a product being sold to the masses,” Mom said.

“I doubt he sees himself that way,” I pointed out.

“Probably not,” Mom agreed. “After all, he’s still so young. I’d say he’s about your age.”

“
Exactly
my age, actually.”

“Huh?” Dad said.

“Never mind.” I knocked a couple of satin cushions off the sofa. It was bad enough that Milton was angry with me. Now I had to listen to my parents tell me how awful I was.

So why not quit?
There’d been a tiny voice in the corner of my mind asking this question all day. If I dropped out now, I could go back to my old life and still have a chance
to enjoy the rest of the summer. No more awkward interviews. No more spandex wedgies.

Maybe quitting really
was
my best option. I was about to bring up this possibility with my parents, but Mom spoke first.

“There’s something you should know, Joshua.” Her voice dropped away, as if she were considering whether or not to go on. Finally, she said, “There are rumors that Phineas Vex is working on some kind of top-secret project. And he’s assembled a team of experts to help him.”

“Many of the world’s best doctors, scientists, and engineers have been going missing,” Dad went on. “We think they’re working for Vex now.”

I gripped the phone more tightly. “Why? Why would they do that?”

“Vex is very wealthy,” Mom said. “And very dangerous. One way or another, he has the ability to make just about anyone work for him.”

I looked around my huge hotel room, suddenly aware of how isolated I was. If only Sophie and Milton were with me. But they were hundreds of miles away, hidden deep beneath the earth. Maybe the Nameless Hero had tons of adoring fans, but I’d never felt so alone.

“Here’s the strangest part,” Dad said. “One scientist who went missing had a tracking chip installed in her wristwatch. It could tell her whereabouts, even after she vanished. And you’ll never believe where she ended up.”

I held my breath. “Where?”

Before Dad could get the first syllable out, there was a
disturbance on the other end of the line. For a few seconds, it sounded like my parents were playing football with the phone. Then someone new joined the conversation.

“Hellloooo, Joshuaaaak!” came a mangled electronic voice that I recognized immediately.

“Elliot!” I said. “Please—put my parents back on the line. Now!”

“Howzzz summmmer caaaaaamp!”

“It’s fine. Now, could you give the phone back to my mom and dad?”

From the sounds coming through the receiver, I could only guess what was happening. I could hear pounding footsteps, a sudden crash. Dad’s voice cried out in the distance. “Come back here with that! No, Elliot, don’t put the phone in your mou—”

CHOMP!

And just like that, the line went dead.

“Let’s go, Nameless!” Gavin barked at me. “We’re late already!”

I was standing in front of the hotel, rubbing my eyes. I’d been living at the Ritz-Carlton for a week already. The past seven days had gone by in a daze, a dizzying loop of talk shows, journalists, screaming fans …

Ever since the events at Times Square, my life had flipped upside down. Crowds formed wherever I went. Plans were already in the works for action figures, a movie, a national tour.

Morning—noon—night … it was the Nameless Hero show.

There hadn’t even been time to call my parents again. And so whatever my dad had been about to tell me had been left unsaid. Although I’d heard more than enough to make me uneasy. Phineas Vex had a team of experts
assisting him on some kind of secret project. But what were they working on? And where had they all disappeared to?

The worst part was not being able to discuss any of this with the rest of the group. Whenever I asked about them, Gavin always gave me the same answer.
They’re back at headquarters, training
. With each day that went by, I felt like I was drifting farther away from everyone I’d known before I’d become famous.

But one thing I knew was, I couldn’t just quit. Whatever Vex was up to, the Alliance of the Impossible was my best chance to stop him. I just needed to figure out a way to get back into training.…

“Hey, kid! Wakey-wakey!”

Trace’s brash voice shook me out of my own thoughts. He was invisible in the driver’s seat of the SUV. A hotel employee was holding the back door open for me.

“Earth to superhero,” Trace teased as I climbed into the backseat. “You look like you’re on another planet.”

“Sorry.” I tugged at the mask that I almost never took off these days. “Still a little sleepy.”

“Well, you’d better wake up in time for the commercial shoot. This is a big deal. You don’t want to mess it up.”

“Commercial shoot?” I asked. “What kind of commercial?”

“The company you’re endorsing,” Gavin replied. “Very exciting development.”

So now I was endorsing a company? Just add it to the list of things nobody bothered to tell me.

I got an even bigger surprise a half hour later when I learned what
kind of
company it was. Trace parked the SUV in front of a studio, and Gavin rushed me between two columns of excited fans and flashing cameras, through the front doors. We were running behind, and there was barely a moment for introductions before the director positioned me in front of a screen.

“Okay, Nameless,” he said. “Just act natural. Be yourself.”

I glanced up at the cameras that were aimed in my direction, the lighting equipment hovering everywhere. Adults were scattered throughout the studio, all looking back at me.

How was I supposed to act natural when my legs felt like they might give out any second?

“All you need to do is read the cue card out loud.” The director pointed to a poster board. My eyes scanned over the lines that I was supposed to recite, but this only made me feel worse.

“You want me to say
that
?” I asked.

The director nodded, taking a spot next to one of the cameras. When he called out “Action!” I knew what was expected of me—not that that made it any easier.

I did my best to swallow my embarrassment, then began to read my lines:

“When I’m not saving the world from supervillains, I spend my time battling pimples.” I gulped, sure I was blushing under my mask. “That’s why I use Triple-P—Pimple
Prevention Power. Now I don’t have to worry about zits while I’m out fighting evil.”

“Great job!” called the director.

I took a step toward the door. “Does that mean we’re done?”

“Not even close. We still need to shoot a few dozen more takes.”

“A few
dozen
?”

“We’ve got to get this right.” The director stood from his chair, pointing at me. “After all,
you’re
the new face of Triple-P Advanced Acne Cream. From now on, whenever anyone thinks of unsightly pimples, they’ll think of you!”