As the boys started to make their way up to the surface, their ears popping, they saw and felt hundreds and hundreds of Flyboys smashing into the water.
It turned out they could not swim.
It also turned out that water was not a good environment for their systems to function properly in. The electrical charges of the Flyboys shorting out actually made Fang’s skin tingle, and he motioned to the Gasman to get away, now! The Gasman grabbed Iggy, and they swam hard after Fang.
They bobbed to the surface about eighty feet away from where a showstopping lights-and-sparks display was taking place. The Flyboys couldn’t help themselves, even as they saw dozens of their colleagues exploding and shorting out in the water.
Some of them tried to backpedal, but their wings weren’t designed that way—and the Flyboys behind them just hit them and dragged them all down anyway.
“Awesome!” shouted the Gasman, punching his fist in the air. “Oh, Iggy, man, if you could only see this!”
“I hea
r it,” said Iggy happily. “I feel it. There’s nothing like the smell of the shorted closed-circuit system of an electric Frankenstein.”
“So, guys,” said Fang, treading water. “Good plan?”
“Excellent plan, dude,” said the Gasman, and Iggy held up his hand for a high five.
Fang slapped it, then they swam toward shore.
127
With a gigantic splintering, grinding noise, the enormous castle gates burst inward. What was left of the mutants hurried out of the way.
A giant yellow Humvee careened in through the gates, its front end considerably smashed.
The driver’s door popped open, and a teenage girl leaned out. “I just got my license!” she said excitedly in a heavy German accent.
Then hundreds of kids started pouring through the broken gates, only to stop and stare at the courtyard, littered with bodies and busted Flyboys.
Onstage, the Director was white-faced. Her order had effectively finished off the last of this batch of Flyboys. Maybe she had more stashed inside. At any rate, she turned and started hurrying toward the metal door that led back into the castle.
I tumbled Total into Angel’s arms and grabbed Nudge’s hand. “Come on!”
The two of us took off into the air—the Flyboys had shorted out the electric grid as well as themselves.
“Help me get her!” I told Nudge.
Just as the Director reached the metal door and was grabbing hold of the lever, Nudge and I dropped down on either side of her.
“Not so fast, Mom,” I snarled.
128
Nudge and I each grabbed the Director under an arm and took to the air.
She was no lightweight, but together we took her high, way over the castle. She was screaming in terror, looking down, kicking her feet, losing both of her sensible shoes.
“Put me down this instant!” she shouted.
I looked at her. “Or what? You’ll send me to my dungeon?”
She stared at me with contempt.
“Oh, did you see?” I said. “I defeated Superboy. But who knows? Maybe someday you can turn him into a real boy.”
“Omega was far superior to you,” the Director spat.