Here’s what the critics are saying about the first tae kwon do epic… “Fascinating! Hilarious! I’ve never read a story which combined martial arts and blunt humor so forcefully. It was excellent! I couldn’t put it down.” – Squeegee Nincompoop, Martial Arts Today

“The story? Oh, it was great, I guess. There needed to be more explosions. Maybe a car chase or two.” – Paul Paulsen, editor, Car Chases and Explosions Weekly

“The characters were very real. Very believable. Very funny. Encore! Encore! Maybe a little less about romance novels.” – Michael Michaels, head editor, Martial Arts in the Outback

Advance praise for the second epic… “Fascinating!” “Riveting!” “Pure genius!” “More whipped cream!”

The Most Excellent Second Tae Kwon Do Epic

Disclaimer: I don't own Claire, Mandi, Boli, Leyna, Charles, Matt, Famous Byron, Selena, Kirsten, Mr. Spicer, Mr. Coscarelli, Mr. Beham, any other assorted BDD students, or any of the folks from the most excellent band Evanescence. I do, however, claim Hubert, Biff, and Sylvester. All trivia questions were found on the Internet. We all did our own stunts, thanks for asking.

Our mastermind – because every bad adventure sequence has to have a mastermind – was plotting. He was doing so with the aid of a large bowl of chocolate pudding and a Scooby-Doo marathon on the cartoon channel, but he was still plotting. Don’t question a mastermind’s methods. His name? We’ll get around to that eventually. He paused to scribble a note on a piece of scribble-covered notebook paper, a spoon of pudding halfway to his mouth. The last note was the most surprising out of all the notes, though. It read simply: “Testing. 12 PM.”

“All right, drop into a horse stance, widen your legs,” Matt Goble advised Don.

The red stripe did so, but it was a barely noticeable difference from his previous stance. Matt kicked his front leg out, and Don dropped into a horse stance. “Better.”

Across the room, our two heroes – Sarah and Mandi – were working on takedowns. At times, they were getting a little giggly, especially in takedowns which resembled break dancing. Famous Byron, who was supposed to be helping Serena with her form, was staring at them. Just then, Sarah ducked to avoid a punch, took out Mandi’s knees, and the two girls landed in a heap on the mat. “Oww…”

Mr. Spicer clapped his hands. “All right, line it up and I will dismiss you.”

Everyone got to their feet. Mr. Spicer spoke briefly about upcoming demonstrations and the planned camping outing, then ended by saying, “Remember, testing is this Sunday. Black belts and color belts are needed to assist. It starts at noon. Attention. Bow. Class dismissed.”

In the women’s dressing room, Sarah gave Bob a hug, then said, “I’m glad testing’s this Sunday. I won’t have to go to my grandparents’ house down in Morenci.”

“Good. I know Claire's excited, too.”

Sarah grinned. “Maybe this testing will be just as exciting as the tournament.”

Mandi rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I could take all the excitement.”

Dagorhir practice was over for that Saturday, and only a few of the Outlanders remained on the field. Zagref was among them, picking up his last few arrows, lingering behind. He wanted to be alone. It gave him pause to consider his dastardly plan.

But he wasn’t alone. Near the edge of the field, Mandi and Boli were discussing something. Then Mandi said, “Yeah, noon, okay? If you get there late, just kinda sneak in the back.”

Boli smiled. “All right. I’ll try not to be late.”

“Good.” Mandi picked up the rest of her weaponry and headed for her car. Zagref followed along behind, lazily, smiling to himself. The rest of the Outlanders had been teasing him, in a friendly manner, about his ruthless “takeover of Dagorhir.” If only they knew.

Mandi turned around. “Zagref, you want to come to testing? I think there’ll be nachos.”

“Who could pass up nachos?” he retorted, but with a smile.

She smiled back. “Noon, okay?”

“Amanda!”

Mandi turned around. She and Sarah had been rehearsing their takedowns one final time after Thursday’s class. Mr. Coscarelli, who had been teaching, had gone into the office to find a flyer on a demo for Pam. Famous Byron had been getting his gear together. At the moment Mandi turned, her punch went wild, knocking Sarah in the face. On her way down, Sarah managed to hit Mandi’s knees, and both of them sprawled on the mat. “What?” she asked, aggravated, from her flat-on-her-back position on the mat.

It was Famous Byron. He appeared sheepish now. “I… I just wanted to know if… if you wanted to… some time… go out for ice cream… after class?”

“Not right now, Byron,” she snapped.

“Okay, good, swell, whatever…”

As he turned to leave, Mr. Coscarelli caught him by the shoulder. “Byron, my boy, help Mr. Goble and myself get some chairs up from the basement for the testing,” he said.

“Sure, sir,” Byron said.

Mandi shook her head as she and Sarah packed up their gear. The three male black belts had finished bringing the chairs up from the basement. “I bet he just wants to take me out on a date so he can call me a hoochie and tell me to zip up my jacket.”

“You’re not wearing a jacket.”

“Oh.”

Byron left before they had a chance to talk to him again, his face flushed bright red. “He certainly has been acting odd lately,” Sarah said. “During Tuesday’s class, I caught him staring at you the whole time we were doing takedowns.”

Mandi shook her head dismissively. “Why does he want to stare at me? To him, I’m just another dork who wears revealing clothing…”

"But he was staring at you,” Sarah repeated, putting on her bicycle helmet. “I think he likes you.”

“Dear God, spare me the punishment…”

Sarah grinned and hopped onto her bike. “All right. Whatever. So he doesn’t like you. See you Sunday.”

The days passed quickly and all too soon, Sunday was upon them. Sarah awoke bright and early and went to church. Then she came home and was reading the paper, when her father said, “Oh, this came in the mail for you yesterday, but you weren’t home.”

Sarah took the blue envelope from him. There was no return address. She closed the comics and took the envelope upstairs, slitting it open with her fingers, pulling out the single sheet of notebook paper contained inside.

Dear Sarah, You don’t know me. But I know you. And I want you to know that there will be trouble during testing today. Be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Someone wants failure, and someone will get it. Be prepared for anything.

“Well, that’s weird. What could possibly be out of the ordinary at a martial arts academy?”

Testing was just beginning when Sarah arrived. Some nervous-looking white belts stood anxiously in the fighting stance, waiting for their next instruction. One was facing the wrong way. Another one had forgotten his gi top, but otherwise all was well. A quick reminder from Mr. Spicer helped the one white belt to face the correct way, but alas, nothing short of divine intervention could help the one without the gi top.

“Hi!” Sarah whispered vigorously to Mandi and Kirsten, who sat next to each other on the black belt bench. Sarah herself plopped unceremoniously (but quietly) onto the blue mats next to them. Leyna immediately scooted into her lap, and Sarah cuddled the small and affectionate girl.

“Basic Form One, on your own count, stay together,” Mr. Spicer instructed the white belts.

Sarah nudged Mandi’s knee. “Hey… can we go work on takedowns for a few minutes?”

The black belt nodded. Sarah gently lifted Leyna off her lap, and the two girls headed for the basement. As they passed the door, both were surprised to see a large blue panel van pulling into the parking lot of the academy. “I wonder who that is,” Sarah said aloud.

Mandi shook her head. “Doesn’t look like any of the students or parents’ cars that I know of.”

They watched for a moment longer, but no one got out of the van. Sarah shrugged it off. “Let’s go practice. I need to work on the hip toss.”

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, there came a loud explosion from upstairs. Startled, both girls looked up. “What was that?” Sarah asked confusedly.

“I don’t know.”

They crept their way carefully up the dojo steps, Mandi peering over the top steps, Sarah wide-eyed at her side, watching. “What is it?” Sarah whispered.

Mandi shrugged. “Can’t tell.”

They were silent a minute longer, until a small voice said, “Mandi, where is everyone?”

It was Leyna, standing at the top of the steps. The two girls looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?” Mandi asked, standing up from her crouched position.

“Everyone’s gone,” Leyna said.

Standing, both girls realized it was true. The dojo, which had, before, been crowded with students and parents, was now empty, except for a few bodies, lying prone on the floor. One, Mandi could see, was Famous Byron. One of the others was Dan, a curly-haired youth, and the final was an unidentified white belt female. “What’s going on?” Sarah asked shakily.

Mandi shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Hello?” a voice called from behind them. All three girls whirled in surprise, ready to face an attacker, but found it was only Boli.

“Thank goodness!” Mandi exclaimed, hugging him as Sarah said, “What are you doing here?”

“Testing, remember?” he said with a smile. “Although it seems awfully quiet in here for that.”

“We just noticed,” Mandi said, then, a split second later, said, “Was there a blue panel van in the driveway when you came in?”

“I think so,” Boli said, shrugging. “Why?”

Sarah glanced at Mandi. The black belt looked at Boli. They all looked at Leyna, then at the empty dojo, save for Dan, Famous Byron, and the white belt female. “Something weird is going on,” Sarah said, stating the obvious. Then it hit her. “The letter!”

“What?”

“I got this letter yesterday….” Sarah said, running up to the ladies’ dressing room and retrieving the letter. They all read it quickly. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

They nodded in agreement. “I think we have to go figure out who’s in that van,” Mandi said.

“Right,” Boli said. “And being the male figure in this chaos, I nominate myself.”

No one argued with him, so he turned and tried the door handle, which failed to move. “It’s locked.”

“What do you mean, it’s locked?”

“I mean, it’s locked, as in – it won’t open, it’s shut permanently, we can’t get out.”

“Try the windows,” Sarah suggested, bowing herself into the vacant dojo and trying the windows. “Nope, they’re all locked, too… even the stuck one.”

“Are there any other doors?” Boli asked.

“No, not even in the basement,” came the answer.

“What now?”

“Well, if something’s going to happen, like it always does in bad B-genre horror films, we will soon meet the villain, who will mysteriously appear here though all the doors and windows are locked,” Sarah said, tugging at her gi top.

All of them began to look around, waiting for the villain to appear. But he or she did not appear. All four breathed a bit of a sigh of relief. “Well,” Sarah said, quite practically, “we should formulate a plan of sorts.”

"Good idea,” Boli agreed.

“Let’s state the obvious,” Mandi said. “We have very limited resources. Something crazy is going on. I think it’s safe to assume that all methods of communication are cut off, and that includes doors, windows, and telephones.”

“What about cell phones?”

“If this is as bad as a B-genre horror film as you think it is,” Boli said, “then I’d say no.”

Sarah frowned.

Leyna said, “What about the men?”

“What men?”

As Leyna told it, this is what had happened –

Two men had come into the dojo. They appeared normal, wearing flannel shirts and jeans. Both were very, very blond – “Scandinavian?”- and were wearing cowboy boots. One wore a baseball cap. They both had cell phones clipped to their hips. They took a seat in the last row of the dojo, and watched testing for a little bit. Then one got up to get a drink of water. He placed his hand on the wall of the room, and an odd humming noise filled the space. Then there was a bright flash of light and everyone, save Leyna, Dan, Famous Byron, and the white belt female, were gone.

"How did you manage to stay conscious?”

“I got really sleepy,” Leyna admitted, “and I was almost falling asleep, when I heard someone talking. It was a lady. She said, ‘Not yet!’ and so I stayed awake.”

Boli glanced at both of the girls. Sarah was peering at the wall where Leyna had described the man’s hand as being. “Right here?”

“Yes, there.”

“Did he say anything?”

“I couldn’t hear, not with all the kihaups going on.”

That made sense.

“A plan?” Boli said, returning them to their original train of thought.

“Right, a plan.”

They brought their scant resources into the dojo, half-glancing at what the others were bringing. Pens and paper, mouth guards, sparring pads, clothes, sweatshirts, two cans of orange pop, a little more than five dollars in change, two cell phones, shoes, and a bag of McDonald’s apple pies. “We’re screwed.”

“Not yet we’re not,” Boli said. “We don’t even know what’s going on.”

There was a flash of light, and Charles Davey stood before them.

“Oh, good, a savior!” was Sarah’s first thought. Then she remembered Psychology class from the week before. Mr. Beham had been discussing Jung’s theories about archetypes. He had said that although a person may appear to be one archetype, they are often another. Therefore, Charles’ appearance as a savior could be interpreted as another archetype – the evil-doing villain.

Apparently the others, save Leyna, had had the same thoughts, for they regarded him warily. They were right to do so, because another flash later, and the two flannel-sporting accomplices appeared.

“Greetings,” Charles said. “We’re here today to begin the process of taking over the world.”

“This again?” Mandi asked.

“Excuse me?” one of the flannel-clad men said, but Charles barreled on.

“Today, we will construct our palace, our heaven.”

“We don’t need them,” the other flannel-clad man butted in.

“Easy, Biff,” Charles admonished his minion. “We can’t very well do away with the ruling class.”

“Ruling class?”

“Yes. You four are my ruling class, until we can find appropriate substitutes.”

“Where is everybody?” Mandi questioned.

“Oh, we’ve sent them away,” Charles replied with a wave of his hand. “They’ll be kept in cold storage until they’re needed.”

“Why did you keep Famous Byron, Dan, and… uh… the white belt lady?” Sarah asked.

Charles glanced at his minions. The one to his left said, “Uh, well, I don’t know, sire. Something must have occurred.”

“So let me get this straight,” Mandi said, interrupting the flannel-sporting ignoramus. “You’re going to take over the world, and this is your headquarters. We’re your ruling class.”

“Silly me,” Charles said. “Did I say we were taking over the world?”

“Yes,” Leyna piped.

“Well, then I was correct. Now, you must perform some tasks to make sure you are my ruling class.”

With a clap of his hands, a chalkboard appeared. One of the Flannel Men, as Sarah was already thinking of them, went to it and wrote, “What belongs to you but others use it more than you do?”

“You will have, oh… a half hour to solve this puzzle.” He clapped his hands again, and the three disappeared. Only his voice lingered, saying, “So be quick, and you will not face destruction…”

As the voice drifted away, a large clock appeared, and the hands showed a half-hour left.

Boli turned to the three girls. “What do you own that others use more than you?” he wondered aloud, paraphrasing the chalkboard.

“Your car!” Mandi said.

“Nah, it has to be something less obvious.”

“Okay, so what do you own?” Sarah asked. “Clothing, house, books, car….”

“The list is endless. We’ll never get it.”

“… but really, what do others use that you own?” Sarah finished.

“Well, people use you if they’re really awful,” Boli suggested with a wry grin.

“Nah, it’s not that,” Mandi said.

“Mandi, wait…” Sarah said, about to say something else, then turned to her companions. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Mandi and Boli asked in one voice. Leyna was busy drawing on the chalkboard.

“Your name! Everyone else uses your name more than you do!”

There was a loud ringing sound, like an alarm bell, and then Charles reappeared, flanked by the Flannel Men. “Very good, you win,” he said nonchalantly. “Now, you will be allowed one person to enter my locked sanctuary for assistance. And I will pick by spinning the wheel.”

He clapped his hands and another large wheel appeared. He spun it vigorously. A bell dinged. He said, “Claire will come to your aid!”

“Oh great,” Sarah said. “We are screwed.”

Charles clapped his hands again, and Claire appeared in the dojo, dressed in her gi. One more clap, and the blackboard erased itself, and a new puzzle appeared in its place. Leyna jumped back, startled. A third clap, and he disappeared again, leaving our hapless heroes to solve his new puzzle:
To the bold I am a weapon
To the gallant, I am a pin
To the gracious, I am a service
To a bridesmaid, I am a win
To the traitor, I am a bribe
To the star, I am a screen
To the swift, I am an arrow
To the bride, I am a dream.
What am I?

“Good Gad, another riddle,” Mandi groaned.

“It’s not a car,” Boli said.

“Or your name,” Sarah agreed with a grin.

Claire sat, relatively stunned, on the floor near the chalkboard. Leyna patted her head gently.

“Well, what are weapons made of? Titanium, gold, steel, copper, silver –…”

“Silver!” Boli exclaimed. “Silver weapons… the Silver Star for gallantry in action… the silver medal at the Olympics…”

“Judas betraying Christ with silver!” Sarah agreed.

“The silver screen,” Claire interjected.

"Silver!”

A bell dinged again, and Charles reappeared. “You’re getting too fast for me,” he said. “This will be your final logic test, and if you pass this, then we will move onto the physical strength part of the test.”

Two more claps. A new puzzle appeared, a bell dinged, and he disappeared.

Claire stood, puzzling over the riddle. “Well, we need one word, obviously, that goes in front of all three of the words.”

“Horse flies!” Leyna offered.

“Basketballs?”

“Well, no… basket flies?”

“Horse flies… horse fingers, nope, sorry, Leyna,” Mandi said.

“Hmm…” Boli said.

“Butter!” Leyna shrieked suddenly, falling off the folding chair she was sitting on. “Butter fingers, butterflies, butterballs!”

The bell dinged again, and Charles reappeared. “Excellent, excellent. And now, for the physical strength portion of the test.”

He clapped his hands, and the dojo fell away.

With several odd-sounding thunks, our courageous crusaders dropped into what appeared to be an office building. They were dressed in street clothes; apparently their doboks had flashed away as fast as the dojo.

“Where are we?”

“I’m getting kind of sick of this teleportation thing. I think there should be a rule – the next time some evil baddie tries to take over the world, he has to do it from exactly where we’re sitting!” Sarah said.

“Good idea. I’ll make sure to mention that so they can add it to the Bad Guy Handbook,” Mandi said dryly.

Sarah sighed and got off the floor, looking around. “This appears to be some sort of office building.”

“It’s snowing!” Leyna shrieked in delight, peering out the windows.

Claire stood up groggily. “Well… what now?”

She should not have asked, for a moment later, a large computer screen was lowered from the ceiling. On it was a large map in green and blue. “This is a map of the office building,” a voice intoned. It was not Charles’s voice; it was a computerized voice. “The blinking dots show the location of flags. You must retrieve all the flags and bring them back here in a certain amount of time.”

“What if we fail?” Boli asked.

“Then we shall have no choice but to let them have you,” the voice said, and the screen changed to a picture of some very large, snarling dogs in a cage. “But I doubt you will fail,” it added, and the map reappeared. “You have two hours.”

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Boli said, staring at the flags. “Sarah, Leyna, and I will go to get the flags on the left. Mandi and Claire, the flags on the right.” In case that wasn’t clear, he gestured at the screen as he spoke.

“Sounds good,” Mandi said. “Let’s go.”

They took off in their separate directions.

Boli was a quick runner. So was Leyna. Sarah, as much as she liked to say the opposite, was not a fast sprinter. She took off after them, but they quickly left her behind. “Guys!” she yelled.

“What?” Boli asked, skidding to a stop.

“There’s the first flag!”

She was pointing up, at a flag attached to the wall maybe fifteen feet off the ground. It was bright orange in color, stuck to the wall with a suction cup. Boli looked up at it, then said, “Sarah, boost Leyna onto my shoulders.”

“You won’t be tall enough,” Sarah countered.

“You could stand on his shoulders!” Leyna suggested.

“Or not,” Sarah said.

“We need some stilts!” Boli said suddenly.

“Oh, that was a good idea. Where are we going to get stilts?”

“We could make some.”

“Again, with what?”

Boli looked around. The hallway was fairly empty. About five hundred feet down the hall was a set of folding chairs, two cardboard boxes, and a couple wicker baskets. “Well, I guess… nothing.”

Suddenly Leyna had a brilliant – albeit semi-dangerous – idea. “Boli!” she said. “You could throw me up at the wall and I could get it!”

“It’s not going to work,” Boli said. “I can’t throw you that far.”

“What, you’re not that buff?” Sarah teased.

Boli sent her a death glare that caused her to giggle. “No, I’m not.” But then he had another idea. “Sarah, stand on my shoulders!”

“What? No!”

Boli didn’t even hesitate before saying, “I assume you’d like to be eaten by the dogs?”

Sarah considered this for a second. “Uh… no.”

“Well, then I guess we’re decided.”

Sarah groaned. He bent down and she climbed onto his shoulders. “Now what, genius?” she asked sarcastically from her precarious position.

“Leyna, take off your shoes and come here.”

“Oh, no,” Sarah said. “Oh, no. Boli, this is not a good idea!”

“Well, it may be the only idea we have. Leyna, I’m going to bend down and you’re going to get onto Sarah’s shoulders to get the flag.”

Leyna grinned eagerly. “All right!”

Despite Sarah’s protests, Leyna was quickly able to clamber up. Her stocking feet were soon planted firmly on Sarah’s shoulders, and her hands grasped eagerly for the flag. “Got it!”

With a sigh of relief, the tower of people collapsed. They had their first flag.

Down another hallway, Claire and Mandi were charging towards their flags. Or, rather, they were stumbling awkwardly. The hallway was dimly lit. “We need a flashlight!” Claire said as she ran into the wall again.

“Oh, we’re fine,” Mandi said, but then she ran into the wall as well.

"Look, there’s the first flag!” Claire said. It was attached to a table in the middle of the hallway. It was a moment before she realized their predicament. The entire table was covered in flags from all different countries. “Which one do we need?”

“I don’t know,” Mandi replied, and they began to sort through the flags.

“This is like being at the UN,” Claire commented dryly. “Ooh, Belgium!”

The Belgium flag was attached to a black plastic base with a sticker on it. As the girls watched, the sticker began to beep, then played the University of Michigan fight song. “Well, I guess that’s our flag.”

They took it and ran off in search of their next flag. A sign taped to a door read “This way to next flag” and had an arrow drawn in marker on it. The arrow was pointing to the elevator. Claire and Mandi climbed on. Claire began punching buttons.

There was a loud clanging noise, and the elevator doors smashed shut. The elevator dropped a few feet, then came to a stop. The doors stayed shut. “Oh,” said Mandi, faintly. “That’s not good.”

Claire pressed the emergency release button a few times; nothing happened. She opened the panel hiding the emergency phone, but it was disconnected, the wire neatly snipped. “It’s all right,” she said aloud. “Who would we call, anyway?”

“So… you like Russian literature?” Mandi asked.

Boli, Sarah, and Leyna kept charging through the hallway. They had five flags in their possession, only needing four more to finish their collection. “I wonder how the others are doing,” Boli said.

“I’m sure they’re doing just fine,” Sarah answered, unsticking a red flag from underneath a drinking fountain.

From the other side of the hall, Leyna cried, “Ooh, look!”

Boli and Sarah crossed the hallway and looked into a room. It was a fairly large room, and appeared to be filled with whipped cream. On the other side of the room was a familiar flag, this one being periwinkle blue.

“Oh, no,” Boli said.

“Whee!” Leyna said, and dove into the room.

Boli and Sarah looked at each other, and then Sarah dove after Leyna.

Walking in whipped cream is not actually an art. It is not actually anything. It is, however, a major struggle. But fortunately, it is a tasty struggle.

About twenty minutes later, totally covered in whipped cream, our three heroes reached the flag. Leyna reached up to grab it off the wall. Pulling it off, she said, “All right, only…”

But her next words were drowned out as the three fell, fell, fell…

“Well, I didn’t like Anna Karenina,” Mandi admitted. “But I suppose Dostoyevsky could be considered a work of literature.”

Claire’s only response was a snore.

Mandi allowed herself a small smile. She really didn’t know much about Russian literature, but it apparently had been enough to lull Claire to sleep. And now… now what?

Her cell phone rang. Opening her purse, she took it out and stared at it confusedly. “I thought you had no more minutes,” she whispered to it.

It rang again, the blaring ring tone assailing the metal walls of the elevator. “Hello?”

“Hi, dear,” someone said on the other end. “We’re… almost… oh no!”

The line went dead. Mandi stared at it, still confused.

She needn’t have worried, because a moment later, there was a crash, and Sarah, covered in whipped cream, fell through the ceiling of the elevator. “Hi!” she said brightly. “I’m… uh… here to rescue you!”

“I told you to hold on to the wire!” Boli’s voice said from above. “Not to let go!”

“My hands got slippery,” Sarah shouted back. “Throw down the rope!”

There came a thunk from above and a coil of rope dropped through the hole Sarah had fallen through. Claire stirred a little as the rope hit the floor, then came fully awake. “What in the world?”

“I’m here to rescue you!” Sarah repeated, smiling broadly.

“Hurry up!” Boli’s voice said from above. “We’ve only got an hour left!”

“You’re such a worrier!” Sarah yelled back.

“I’m also the one attached to the elevator cables with a clamp we found in the employee kitchen.”

Sarah wasted no time making a thick knot in the rope and tying the remainder around Claire’s waist. “Up you go,” she said cheerfully, then yelled up to Boli, “All right, heave-ho!”

Claire went up through the hole in the elevator ceiling. Once she had reached the platform where Boli was clamped to the elevator cables, she disentangled herself from the rope and threw it back down to Sarah and Mandi. The girls repeated the process until everyone had exited the elevator.

Boli and Leyna were waiting on the third floor platform. Once everyone was safely on the platform, Boli untied the rope from the elevator cables and unclamped the metal vise holding him to the cables.

Our five heroes, now all together again, reconnoitered quickly in the hallway. It turned out that Mandi and Claire only had one flag, needing eight more to finish their collection, and Boli’s group needed four more. They had no choice but to split up again, only having fifty-five minutes left before Charles would release the dogs.

“Let’s meet up again after we collect all the flags,” Claire suggested.

Boli nodded, already halfway down the hall. “Okay, good!”

They turned the corner and were gone. Claire and Mandi glanced at the map screen on the wall, and took off at a run.

On the fourth floor, they collected their next five flags, bringing their total to six. Mandi found the seventh attached to a collection of Shakespearian poetry in what appeared to be the office building’s library. Claire rounded the corner, following the taped signs in search of the next arrow, and burst out laughing. Mandi pulled the flag off the book and followed Claire. “What is it?”

“It’s… Famous Byron!”

It was indeed Famous Byron, seated in the office next door to the library. He sat behind a large oak desk, papers scattered everywhere. However, he was not apparently there of his own free will, as a mass quantity of duct tape held him to the wooden chair he sat on. “Hi, gals,” he said. “How’s it going?”

Mandi shook her head. “What are you doing here, Byron?”

“I’m not too sure myself,” Famous Byron answered. “Your eighth flag is over there.” He nodded with his chin, his arms being taped to the chair, at a shiny blue flag, taped to a filing cabinet with two pieces of electrical tape. Claire went over and began to rip the tape from the filing cabinet while Mandi faced Byron. “Are we supposed to save you, too?” she asked.

Famous Byron shrugged. “I don’t think so. The men who brought me here said they’d be back later.”

“Okay, good. Claire, do we have the flag?”

“Yep,” Claire said, unsticking a piece of electrical tape from her fingers and plastering it back onto the filing cabinet.

“Then let’s go.”

“Wait!” Famous Byron said, as they were about to leave.

Claire impatiently checked her watch.

“Do you really know what’s going on here?”

“We’re trying to find some flags and save the world from Charles, who is apparently now an evil dictator,” Mandi managed to rattle off, edging towards the door. “And we don’t have that much time.”

Famous Byron threw back his head and laughed. If possible, he would have fallen out of his chair, but alas, he was too tightly taped. “Is that what you think?”

That caught their attention. “What do you mean, is that what we think? What is going on?” Mandi asked, starting back towards Byron.

“That’s rich! Charles is an evil dictator!" He kept on laughing.

Claire kicked him in the shins. He yelped in pain. “What did you do that for?”

“Talk, freak,” Claire said angrily, “or I’ll kick you again!”

Famous Byron’s eyes went wide in surprise. He glanced at Mandi, who shrugged as if to say, “Sorry, can’t help you.” He cleared his throat and began to speak, when they were all interrupted by an explosion in the hallway.

“Let’s go,” Mandi said, shrugging again. She ran out of the room. Claire gave Byron another good kick and ran after her.

In the hallway, a fire had started in a pile of newspapers. “Claire, grab the fire extinguisher!” Mandi yelled, gesturing to the red canister hidden behind a panel of glass.

Claire ran over, took off her shoe, and smashed the glass with her shoe. She grabbed out the fire extinguisher as Mandi attempted to smother the fire with a trash can lid, which had been sitting on the floor next to the newspapers. It didn’t work, but the fire extinguisher certainly did. Claire aimed the hose at the fire and sprayed the extinguishing foam at it. The fire went out quickly, leaving only traces of foam, but the girls had lost a valuable half hour. They still had one more flag to find… and the fire had destroyed the sign directing them to it.

“Up there!” Leyna cried.

Sarah sighed again. It was their second to last flag, and like the first, it was attached to a wall high above their head with a suction cup. This one, however, appeared to be only twelve or thirteen feet off the ground.

Boli, standing straight up with his arms fully extended, reached about seven and a half feet tall from his heels to the ends of his fingers. That left them with four and a half feet of space in between Boli’s fingertips and the flags. Sarah stared up at the flag and then back at Leyna. “Leyna… remember today when you asked Boli to throw you in the air?”

The girl shook her head excitedly, smiling, eyes sparkling. “Yes.”

“Well… I think this might be a good time for it.”

It took a few tries, Leyna’s fingers scrabbling against the cold marble walls. Finally, Boli threw her with all he had, and her fingers clutched around the flag, suction cup popping off with a satisfactory pop. She giggled and squealed happily, and fell the remaining few feet into Boli’s arms. “Good job,” he told her.

Sarah put the eighth flag into a fairly large Ziploc bag they’d found in the employee kitchen. The flag was an opaque yellow fabric, embroidered in green around the edges. “One more!” she said.

Leyna pointed to the arrow taped to a door. It pointed up.

“Up?” Boli asked.

“I guess so,” Sarah replied.

They headed for the stairs. Once they reached the landing of the next floor, another wood-paneled door awaited them. Leyna pushed it open and our three heroes stepped into… “An art gallery?”

That was what it appeared to be. The dimly-lit space was cluttered with paintings, maps, jewelry pieces, ceramic pieces, pastel drawings, and wood carvings. There were no flags in sight. Sarah rounded a corner and found herself face-to-face with an entire exhibit of flags. “Oh, no,” she said in despair.

“What?” Boli asked. When he joined her in the flag exhibit, he was wearing a straw hat on his head.

“What is that?” she questioned.

He shrugged. “Found it in the natural fibers exhibit.”

Leyna sported a similar hat, brightly colored and fashioned in the sombrero style. She stared up at the flag exhibit. The largest flag seemed to take up one whole wall of the art gallery. “How do we know which one we need?”

“I guess we take them all,” Boli said.

Claire and Mandi were hopelessly lost. For awhile now, they’d heard music, piped through a PA system in the office building. There seemed to be arrows everywhere. Each one lead to a dead end.

Finally Claire opened the last door in the hallway. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Mandi, who was about five steps behind her, crashed into her back. “Wow,” she murmured.

The room had a cathedral ceiling, with stained glass windows starting four feet off the floor and heading skyward. At the farthest end of the room, sitting on tall wooden barrels, there were four or five people. The girls were too far away to plainly see them, but behind them was their ninth and last flag, a large, opalescent green flag. They took off at a dead run.

But nothing matched their surprise when they reached the people. For sitting before them, all lashed to wooden barrels, was the band Evanescence, minus the lead guitar player, Ben Moody. “You guys are a band, right?” Mandi asked confusedly.

“Right,” said lead singer Amy Lee. “And we’d appreciate a little help in getting out of here.”

"It’s nailed to the wall!” Claire wailed in disgust.

“We can help you,” Mandi said. Then, to Claire, she said, “Well, yank it off!”

“We’ve only got ten minutes,” Claire moaned.

While Claire set to pulling the flag off the wall, Mandi undid the ropes binding the members of Evanescence – all of whom looked a little angry – to the barrels. Claire gave one last yank to the flag’s PVC pole, and fell backwards, knocking over the barrel drummer Rocky Gray was still attached to. The barrel, acting like a bowling ball on its way down an alley at Monday Night Bowling League, took out guitar player John LeCompt and Mandi. “I’ve got the flag!” Claire said wearily, holding it up.

At that moment, sirens went off. Claire and Mandi, to say nothing of the members of Evanescence, looked up confusedly. That was before the floor dropped out.

After a hair-raising slide down a series of seemingly endless tunnels, our heroes – and the band – ended up back in the lobby they’d started from. Facing them, carrying what appeared to be the entire flag exhibit of the office building’s art gallery, were Boli, Leyna, and Sarah. All appeared groggy, but Sarah still managed to say sarcastically, “Look, we’ve got groupies!”

Boli untangled himself from the flag of Brazil. “Good. Now let’s get out of here.”

But before he could go any further, the map screen descended from the ceiling again. “Not so fast,” a voice said, and it was really Charles’s voice this time.

Everyone in the room groaned, even the members of Evanescence.

“Now, you all must be wondering what you’re all doing here, and what the deal is with all these flags.”

“I think ‘wondering’ is a bit of an understatement. I think ‘angry’ might do it,” Mandi said, helping Claire off the floor. Leyna appeared from underneath the Israeli flag, holding a replica of the British flag in her hand.

“Well, then let me clear it up for you,” Charles said, a bit nastily. “You’ve got twenty minutes to reach the top floor of this office building and jump. With the flags.”

“I thought we were your ruling class,” Sarah said, “and now you want us to all commit suicide?”

Charles didn’t answer, and the map screen clicked off.

“Let’s go!” Boli yelled.

There was a mad scramble for the stairs.

They reached all at the same time – well, except for Leyna, who was a bit weighted down by the full-size Chilean flag and the English war banner she was carrying – and jumped.

They jumped but did not fall; they landed but were not smashed. They flew but fell; they were everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And then they were somewhere, a loud, noisy somewhere filled with popping flashes and breaking boards and kihaups. It was the Merillat Center, the scene for the annual tae kwon do tournament. Our tae kwon do-doing heroes were once again dressed in their doboks, freshly pressed and smelling like Tide.

“Can somebody please explain what’s going on here?” Amy Lee asked tiredly.

Mandi ticked it off on her fingers. “Attempt to take over the world, tae kwon do testing, long story.”

“Look, it’s the Flannel Men!” Leyna cried, pointing to the two flannel-sporting accomplices.

“Let’s go!” Boli repeated, and they took off across the floor towards the two men.

The two Flannel Men put up a fairly good chase. But they had not counted on the men from Evanescence being such buff species of maleness, and they were quickly caught and restrained.

The other thing our heroes hadn’t counted on was that capturing the Flannel Men was not the end of the story.

“Excuse me, participants of the tae kwon do tournament,” a voice boomed from inside the gym. “We’d like to inform you that the tae kwon do tournament will be temporarily suspended while there is a quick battle for the fate of the world.”

Surprisingly, everyone began to applaud. Well, what else would they do in such a confusing situation? Then the gym went dark and the Flannel Men turned to the Evanescence band members restraining them. A few quick kicks later and they were the ones doing the restraining. And then Charles appeared. “Well, have you had fun?”

“It wasn’t exactly a day at the carnival, no,” Sarah replied.

He shrugged. “Oh. That’s unfortunate. I thought I had planned my tests to be satisfactorily fun as well as challenging. Plus, I gave you some new friends.”

“Yeah, you gave us a rock band,” Mandi said. “Very ingenious.”

He smiled. “Well, you know, beggars can’t be choosers. But, as things may have it, you completed my tasks in record time. You only slightly disrupted things at the office building… one of the employees mentioned that Cathedral Hall seems a bit worse for the wear, and the Whipped Cream Annex was a little disturbed.” His glance swept over Boli, Leyna, and Sarah, as though he knew that they had been the ones to dive into the room full of whipped cream. “And they mentioned something about a fire.” His glance ranged over Mandi and Claire, who said nothing.

“Well, what now?” Boli asked.

“Always stating the obvious, aren’t you? Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, there will be a battle for the fate of the world. My two henchmen, Biff and Sylvester, will fight each of you in successive rounds. Yes,” he continued, as Amy Lee started to protest, “even you.”

Charles clapped his hands. “Hubert, bring out the sparring gear.”

From nowhere, a short, balding man appeared, carrying a plastic Rubbermaid garbage can. “Yes, sir,” he said, setting the garbage can in front of Charles. With a neat salute, he did a marching band pivot and stepped four paces away, coming to stand at parade rest.

Charles threw off the lid of the Rubbermaid garbage can as though it contained treasure. Instead, it only contained sparring gear – hand pads, foot pads, shin guards, and head gear. He began to hand the various items out to the crew gathered around him. Biff and Sylvester, the two flannel-sporting accomplices, had exited quietly, gone to the men’s bathroom to change, and had returned wearing light blue doboks. Their belts were an odd shade between black and gray. They bowed stiffly to Charles. Hubert saluted them. They put on their own sparring gear.

Mandi firmly settled a red head gear onto Leyna’s head and did the Velcro strap. Boli pulled up his khaki pants and strapped on shin guards and silver foot pads. Amy Lee, her pale face and dark hair looking oddly out of place under a light blue head gear, strapped on red hand pads and assisted John LeCompt with his. Sarah shoved a yellow mouth guard into her mouth and pushed her glasses up on her nose. Claire, baffled as to how to put on the shin guards, fell over onto Mandi, taking Sarah out on the way down.

The battle for the fate of the world was about to begin.

The author of this story will now be taking a fifteen-minute intermission to brush her teeth, apply some eucalyptus-flavored ChapStick, and find a sweatshirt, all while singing “The Galway Girl” by Steve Earle. If anyone has a problem with these activities, they are advised to take it up with her when she returns.

Charles had appointed himself center judge for the sparring match. To be nice, he’d given each of the teams a two-minute “huddle” to discuss strategy, if any was to be had.

“There’s two of them and eight of us,” Mandi said. “We’ve got the upper hand.”

Amy Lee raised her hand. “Do we?”

“You wouldn’t think so, but we do,” Sarah said.

“Right,” Mandi continued. “They will get tired easily, after sparring all eight of us. Go for the most obvious places – groin, head, torso.”

Everyone nodded as one. Charles clapped his hands, interrupting any further conversation. “Biff, you will go first. Who do you choose as your first opponent?”

Biff turned, bowed, saluted, and turned back to the group of our reckless heroes. “I choose… uh… Claire.”

Sarah nudged Claire in the back. Her dark-haired, usually good-natured friend appeared frozen. “Say yes, sir,” the red stripe instructed.

Claire managed to squawk, “Yes, sir!” and darted nimbly forward into the sparring ring. Charles smiled.

“Each sparring match will be to three points. Points will be taken off for stepping outside the ring. Please watch the contact. No back shots or blind techniques.”

Both Biff and Claire nodded.

“Fighters, toes on the line – ready, fight!”

It was a close match. Unlike her usual fighting style, Claire seemed almost eager to fight, crouching into a lower stance. Her blocks hit their marks. She only got punched in the face once, and even then, it wasn’t counted as point because it was Biff’s blind technique. Claire won the match, 3-2.

After that, things went fairly quickly. Biff chose Amy Lee next, and she lost, which wasn’t surprising. After Amy Lee, Biff sparred Boli, Rocky, Mandi, Leyna, John, and Sarah. He had a record of four wins, four losses. “We will now take a short break,” Charles announced.

The short break took about five minutes. After that, it was Sylvester’s turn to spar. During the break time, a scoreboard had been set up near the ring. Biff’s face appeared on a slot near the top of the board, along with his win/loss record and the names of those he’d beaten or lost to. It wasn’t looking very promising for our hapless heroes.

Sylvester proved to be a better competitor than Biff. His style was wilder, but he had more control and better techniques, pulling off a tornado kick Mr. Vasher would have been proud to see. His contact control was excellent, and he had somehow mastered a perfect right hook kick to the face.

There was one thing our heroes had counted on, though, and that was the probability of eight-to-one sparring. Sylvester had to spar eight of them; they only had to spar one person. Sylvester, with his great control, excellent kicks, and snazzy blue dobok, was exhausted after sparring Boli, his third opponent. Sweat dripped from his pale face and onto his dobok.

“He’s getting tired,” Sarah whispered. “Send in the rock band to tire him out some more. They may not win but at least they’ll sap his strength and we can finish him off.”

Leyna, who had already sparred Sylvester, along with Claire, who had not, nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“And he always leaves his torso open for a punch,” Mandi added to Claire, who would be sparring Sylvester after Amy Lee.

After Amy Lee, Sylvester appeared to be dying. Sweat dripped off him in puddles. Biff patted his fellow henchman on the back. Charles even appeared worried. The only one not noticing Sylvester’s sweating problem was Hubert, who simply mopped off Sylvester’s face and saluted. “Continue, Sylvester, or you will have to forfeit,” Charles said worriedly.

“No, sir, I will not,” Sylvester said, breathing heavily. Hubert slopped some water onto his pale, sweaty face and saluted once more.

“Well, continue if you can,” Biff said, patting Sylvester’s back again.

“Master must continue,” Hubert added, sounding scarily like Gollum.

Sylvester nodded, looking with a longing gaze at both Biff and Hubert. Then he snapped to attention, saluted, and headed back to the ring. It was Claire’s turn to spar him, but she had been watching him closely, saying nothing. Sarah noticed the glint in her eye and smiled. Claire had one doozy of a plan up her sleeve. Or something.

They bowed to Charles, to each other, and fell into fighting position. Claire’s first shot was to Sylvester’s groin, a quick shot which he had no hope of catching. That was her first point. Her second was a neat, quick kick to the upper torso, which again he could not catch. Sweat was falling from Sylvester’s pale brow in torrents. That was Claire’s second point, and she bore it well, only a hint of a smile crossing her face. Pushing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes, she stood back on the duct tape line, waiting for the command to fight.

There it was – a careful punch to Sylvester’s silvery headgear.

Charles called for point, and the judges – ethereal, fog-like creatures near the edge of the ring who could not be focused upon – gave it to Claire. 3-0, and the match was over.

The rest of the sparring tournament went comparatively easy. John LeCompt scored two points on Sylvester before the dripping man beat him. Sarah beat Sylvester easily with three quick punches, much in the manner Claire had. Mandi beat Sylvester, too, and by the end of the round, Sylvester’s total was two losses (John LeCompt and Amy Lee), six wins.

It wasn’t looking good for the evil side.

Charles appeared to know this. As Hubert finished tallying up the score, Charles shook his head at Sylvester. Then, without any warning, he took off across the gym.

Our heroes glanced at each other.

Then they all took off running too.

Outside the Merillat Center, they found a horse and buggy. Considering all they’d been through that day, a horse and buggy was nothing. They leapt in and took off in pursuit of Charles, who was also in a horse-drawn buggy.

Now, I know what you must be thinking. Yeah, it did look a little odd to have a horse-and-buggy pursuit down the streets of Adrian. But hey, it’s a little safer than having our hapless heroes drive some cars down the streets, and it’s almost impossible to exceed the speed limit with a horse. Besides, it’s a fairly funny visual image, as most of this story is.

“He’s going too fast!” Boli said, grabbing the reins from Mandi, who was not proving to be an excellent driver.

“He can’t go that fast,” Sarah told him. “He’s driving a horse-drawn buggy, for Pete’s sake.”

“Drive faster!” Leyna exclaimed, giggling.

Claire grabbed onto the sides of the buggy and yelled, “Gid-up, Sugarplum!”

To everyone’s surprise, the horse began to trot faster.

“How did you know his name was Sugarplum?” Sarah asked.

Claire shrugged. “It’s just one of those things that comes with being a double-promoted fox, I guess.” She grinned at Sarah.

Amy Lee had also grabbed onto the sides of the buggy. “Excuse me,” she said. “I hate to be rude, but is there any chance we’ll be driving through Lansing? We’re supposed to play a show there later today.”

In front of them, Charles’s buggy took a wild left turn. Boli yanked the horse’s reins to the left and their buggy went flying after.

“I’m not sure,” Mandi answered. “I’ll let you know when the chase scene is over.”

“Thanks.”

Charles took a right turn, heading for M-50. To everyone’s surprise, the roads were empty. Boli followed, yelling, “Charles! Stop! This is crazy!”

As is true for most chase scenes, yelling did nothing to slow the criminal – or in this case, the mastermind. Claire scooted up into the front seat of the buggy and said, “Give me the reins.”

“What?”

“Just… here.” She took the reins from Boli and leaned forward, effectively coercing the horse into running faster. “Hi-yup, Sugarplum.”

The horse trotted faster. Charles cast a quick glance over his shoulder and swung the buggy wide into the Wal-Mart parking lot. “After him!” Boli directed.

“Don’t be such a back-seat driver, dear,” Mandi chided.

Charles slowed his buggy as he reached Wal-Mart and leapt out. The horse stopped a few feet away and bent its shaggy head to nibble some germaniums planted in a terra-cotta potter. Claire reined in Sugarplum and our heroes went tumbling out of the buggy.

Well, except for Amy Lee. “John, Rocky, we’ll just stay here and let these guys handle the situation.”

Her two band-mates nodded. Boli shrugged and said, “Okay. Watch Sugarplum, will you?”

Without waiting for an answer, they all ran after Charles, into the Wal-Mart.

Bright lights flashed and somewhere, someone was applauding. “Welcome to Wal-Mart’s only quiz style game show, Wal-Mart Quiz! Please, take your places.”

“Is anyone else confused?” Claire asked.

“You’ll only need to answer ten questions to save the world,” the announcer continued. “Please, don’t be shy! Take your buzzers and we’ll begin.”

Our heroes looked at each other, then stepped forward, towards the bright lights. The Wal-Mart had been set up like Jeopardy!, with buzzers and a large bank of television screens. On one side of the aisle, Charles stood, clutching his buzzer. Immediately in front of our heroes was a bank of buzzers – five, to be exact. Surprisingly enough, each buzzer had a piece of masking tape with a name on it. Our heroes took their name, and the still-invisible announcer began his shtick.

“All right, contestants, we’ll start with Charles on my right. Charles, choose a category.”

“I’d like Kings of Germany for one, please.”

“This king ruled from 800 to 814 A.D.”

Mandi rang in.

“Mandi?”

“Who is… Charlemagne?”

“Correct for one point. Our heroes now need nine points,” the announcer intoned. “Mandi, please select a category.”

“I’ll take Spanish Poets for one, please.”

“All right. This poet published Las Afueras, or The Outskirts, in 1997.”

Claire rang in, surprising herself. “Uh… who is Pablo Garcia Casado?”

“Correct for one. Claire, pick a category.”

“Famous Race Horses for one.”

“The clue is – This horse won the 1948 Triple Crown.”

Charles rang in. “Who is Citation?”

“Correct for one point. Our heroes need eight points, and Charles needs nine if he is to take over the world. Charles, please select.”

“Let’s try American Presidents for one, please.”

“All right. This president won with the largest amount of popular votes since 1872, and his term ran from 1897 to 1901.”

It was Boli with the correct answer. “Who is William McKinley?”

“That’s correct for one. It’s your turn to select, Boli.”

“Famous Buildings for one?”

All right. This architecture school was designed by John Andrews and is located in Cambridge, Massachusetts.”

Sarah rang in. “What is Gund Hall?”

“That’s correct for one. The left side now has four points, and the right side has two. Sarah, please select.”

“Famous Court Trials for one.”

“This famous case, which took place in 1960, was the first case in which a newspaper was part of a Supreme Court trial.”

Mandi rang in again. “What is the case of the New York Times versus Sullivan?”

“Correct for one. Please select.”

"Constitutional amendments for one.”

“Passed in 1791, this amendment prevents an alleged criminal from having to take the stand against himself.”

Charles rang in. “What is the Fifth Amendment?”

“Correct. Please select.”

“Famous Buildings for one.”

“This house, designed by architect Frank Lloyd Wright, is built on the Youghigeny River, and is not far from Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania.”

Sarah rang in. “What is Falling Water?”

“That’s good for one. Please select.”

“Spanish Poets for one.”

“This female poet was adept in regionalism, and her Cantantes Gallegos are wildly popular.”

No one rang in. A buzzer went off, and the announcer said, “Sorry, that would have been Rosalia de Castro. Sarah, select again.”

“Famous Mathematicians for one.”

“This female mathematician was also German.”

Claire rang in. “Who was Emmy Noether?”

“Correct for one. Select again.”

“European Waterways for one.”

“This Norwegian river is southwest of the city of Trondheim.”

Surprisingly, it was Leyna whose hand hit the buzzer first. “What is the Orkla?” she said proudly.

“That’s correct,” the announcer said. “Our current score is – left side eight, right side two. Leyna, select.”

“Superheroes.”

“All right. Name any two superheroes from the British group The Knights of Pendragon.”

Boli rang in with a broad smile. “Who are Union Jack III and Grace?”

“Good enough for one. Left side needs one more point. Boli, select.”

“Let’s see… Kings of Germany for one.”

“This ruler was in power from 887 to 899 A.D.”

It was Claire who rang in. “Who was Arnulf?”

Bells went off and balloons and confetti fell from the ceiling. “That’s correct, for your tenth and final point. Now, all you need to do to save the world is… walk down a hallway.”

“Walk down a hallway?” Leyna hooted, giggling.

“That’s right,” the overhead announcer said. “Walk down the hallway to your immediate left, and push open the door, and the world will be saved from Charles.”

“This sounds ridiculously easy. What’s the catch?” Mandi asked.

“There is no catch!”

“Right.”

But what else could they do? They turned and walked down the hallway. At the end of the hallway was a large metal door. “On three?” Claire suggested.

“One,” Sarah said.

“Two,” Leyna continued.

“Three,” Mandi and Boli said as one, and Claire pushed.

Flashes went off, and voices were coming from everywhere. “How does it feel to be part of one of the largest publicity stunts in the history of America?” “What are your feelings on whipped cream?” “Are you going to see the Evanescence show in Lansing?” “Are you in favor of Matt Goble’s promotion to third degree?” “Where is Famous Byron?”

They all stood there, stunned. With a cat-in-the-cream smile on his face, Matt Goble stood near the door they’d just come out of. “Sorry, guys,” he said, grinning larger.

“What is this?” Mandi asked.

“It was a publicity stunt,” a short, bald man standing next to Matt informed her.

“Aren’t you Hubert?” Sarah asked.

“That’s my stage name,” the man answered. “In real life, I’m an accountant and my name is Walter Stites.”

“And what about Biff and Sylvester?”

“Also accountants, named Anderson Wilde and Doug Meyers.”

Claire was still staring at Matt with a puzzled look. “A publicity stunt? Publicity for what?”

“Why, my third degree testing, of course.”

“What are you talking about?”

“By having you guys perform all sorts of dangerous stunts, it showed the public that Black Dragon’s Den students can do anything,” he replied smugly.

“The public?”

“You didn’t notice the hidden video cameras?”

Hubert – well, no, Walter – nudged him. “Those were hidden. Doug’s also a whiz with technology.”

“Oh,” Matt said.

“This has got to be the most ridiculous thing ever,” Boli exclaimed. “We were put through all sorts of mental and physical tests, ended up in a horse-and-buggy, found the members of Evanescence…”

“Wait,” Sarah interrupted. “Where are the members of Evanescence?”

Matt looked at Hubert (Walter), who said, “Oh, someone came to pick them up. They’ve got a show tonight.”

Hubert-Walter then turned to the press and said, “Thanks for coming, guys.”

With smiles and waves, the press began to pack up. When they were finally alone with Matt and Hubert-Walter, our hapless heroes faced them angrily. “You have got to be kidding. Did everyone else know about this?” Mandi asked.

“Yeah, they did,” Claire said suddenly. “Remember Famous Byron? He thought it was hilarious when we told him Charles was taking over the world.”

“Yeah, Charles was my right hand man on this,” Matt said. “Well, besides Walter here.”

“This is ridiculous. Let’s go,” Boli said.

“Good idea,” Sarah said, casting a mean glance at Matt and Hubert-Walter.

Boli slung his arm around Mandi’s neck and they turned from the platform where Matt and Hubert-Walter were still standing. “Those crazy kids,” Hubert-Walter said, watching them go.

“Yeah…” Matt agreed. “Wait until they figure out we’re really in Missouri…”

“Sarah. Hey. Hey, Sarai’i. Wake up.”

Sarah’s eyes flicked open restlessly, and she looked up blearily into Mandi’s face. “What?”

“Wake up. Matt’s up for his third degree.”

“What time is it?” Sarah asked.

Mandi looked across the room. “It’s almost three o’clock. Claire left to go on her date with Luke.”

“Where’s Boli and Leyna?”

“Boli had to work today, and Leyna went with my mom to the mall.”

“No, they were here,” Sarah contradicted.

“No, they weren’t,” Mandi insisted. “Boli said he was sorry to miss the testing, but they really weren’t here.”

Sarah sat up slowly. “You mean… Wait. What about the flags? And the whipped cream? And the sparring match? And Evanescence? And sparring Biff and Sylvester?”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

Sarah glanced confusedly down at her gi top. For there, stuck into the extra-wide sleeve, was a Peruvian flag. “Oh… nothing. Let’s go watch Matt test.”