The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Boy, Book One: The Hero Revealed by William Boniface

thing we saw as we entered the arcade was the huge sign that said: THE USE OF SUPER POWERS IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. That’s what I always liked about this place. Everyone else was on an equal level with me. In fact, I usually had an advantage, because most people in Superopolis are helpless when they can’t use their powers.
    The second thing I noticed was the box of Amazing Indestructo Collector Card packs that was sitting smack at the front of the prize display case. I went up to the counter to talk to Fly Guy, the manager of Aunty Penny’s Arcade. Of course, he isn’t actually a fly. In fact he looks completely human—except for his eyes. They bulge out from his head, and each one has dozens of facets that allow him to see what is going on all over the place. He also sort of buzzes when he talks, but he only does that to scare

    the littler kids into thinking he really is a fly.
    “How long have you had these available?” I asked, pointing at the cards.
    “I just put ’em out today, kidzzz,” he buzzed. “Only thirteen prizzze tickets will get you a pack.”
    “How many packs are there total?”
    “Thirty-six,” he answered. “You could be the first to claim them azzz a prizzze.”
    “Fantastic!” I said. “We’re going to win every one of them!”
    “Just make sure you don’t use any superpowerzzz,” he added suspiciously, “or I’ll toss you out of here on your buttzzz.”
    I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, there won’t be any danger of that.”
    I returned to where the rest of the team was waiting and explained to them that we could get a pack for every thirteen tickets we won. Unfortunately, if the right pack was the last one in the box, it would ultimately require 468 tickets to get it.
    “It stinks that we can’t just sneak a look at them and find the one we need,” Stench said.
    “That’s not all that stinks,” added Plasma Girl, as she, Tadpole, and Hal began backing away from Stench.
    “Sorry.” He shrugged, reaching for one of his canisters of deodorizer. “That happens sometimes when I get upset.”
    “Unfortunately, we can’t get a look at them unless we win them,” I explained. “Why don’t you go over to the Anthill of Terror, Stench, since you’re always good at that. And we’ll go try some of the games over here.”
    “Yeah, yeah. I can take a hint,” Stench grumbled. Turning, he stalked off in the opposite direction, fuming in more ways than one.
    From a safe distance, I kept one eye on Stench as he wandered over to where an anthill rose about five feet off the floor. It had a three-foot-high plastic wall surrounding it and scary-looking neon letters mounted above that proclaimed: THE ANTHILL OF TERROR!
    Stench picked up a fishing pole that had a magnet swinging at the end of its line. He dropped a quarter into a coin slot next to the game. The anthill immediately started rumbling. A few seconds later dozens and dozens of plastic ants began pouring out of the top and sliding down the sides. The ants were made out of plastic, but some of them also had a metal ball bearing inside. These were the ones that Stench was after. He swung his line over the plastic wall smack into a pile of the churning critters, then reeled it back in with one of the ants sticking to the magnet.
    Lifting it over the wall, he removed the ant and quickly recast his line. Ants were still pouring from the hill, but they were also disappearing into a channel in the base. His second cast landed in the biggest pile of the tumbling “terror” ants. But each time he raised his line there was nothing attached to it. After two attempts, he only captured one more ant.
    The number of ants now coming out of the top began to dwindle. Stench had never gotten fewer than five ants. He threw his line once again into a mass of the seething insects, and once again came up empty. The ants had now stopped emerging, and the ones that were still visible were quickly reaching the base and vanishing. In a last