Max stood onstage in the center of Madison Square Garden, the world’s attention focused on him.

His heart raced from the spotlights shining on him. A sea of faces in the 19,000-seat arena looked agog at him with worshipful approval. A battery of microphones was before him, conveying his words to an eager world.

Beside him loomed Knight Templar, whom Max had always idolized. The fact Max shared a stage with one of the world’s greatest Heroes was surreal. The larger-than-life Hero looked resplendent in his world-famous outfit, a striking blend of a futuristic superhero outfit with a knight’s armor. The metallic-blue armor shimmered under the lights. Knight Templar’s white cape, emblazoned with a large red cross, billowed behind him like a banner of hope.

Knight Templar’s world-renowned voice boomed into the microphones.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Max Blackwood played the pivotal role in exposing the existence of Prometheus Academy. Because of him, a hotbed of supervillainy has been eradicated. We owe him a debt we can never repay. His bravery and resilience set an example for us all.”

Max felt a surge of embarrassment mixed with pride. The packed crowd erupted in applause, their cheers echoing throughout Madison Square Garden. In the front row was a line of young women, all beautiful, busty, and braless. On each of their tight white t-shirts was printed in glittery letters The Future Mrs. Blackwood. They blew Max kisses, bouncing and squealing as if he were a rock star.

Turning to Max, Knight Templar shook his hand enthusiastically, his whalelike hand swallowing Max’s like it was Jonah. A warm smile split the Hero’s matinee idol face as he beamed down at Max. His teeth gleamed so white, they were almost blinding to look at.

“Max, your resourcefulness and courage have not gone unnoticed. I would be honored to sponsor your admission to the Hero academy of your choice. I know The Crucible—my own alma mater—would be delighted to have you. And, upon your graduation, I would like you to consider becoming my sidekick. I could really use a man with your mettle at my side.”

Max’s eyes widened with disbelief and excitement. “Really? I . . . I don’t know what to say. That would be incredible, sir!”

The hero nodded approvingly, pumping Max’s hand all the harder. “You have a very bright future ahead, Max. Together, we will make a real difference in this tired old world.”

Max’s dreams were finally coming true. It all made the hell he had been through since running afoul of Stiletto worth it.

A sudden commotion erupted. Female ninjas, swift and silent in black robes and armor, boiled out of seemingly nowhere. They swarmed the stage.

No, they weren’t merely female ninjas.

They were all Stiletto.

Hundreds of identical replicas of the Villain surged onto the stage like cockroaches from an overturned trash bin. The crowd screamed as the Villains overwhelmed Knight Templar, dragging him down, burying his massive body under their stabbing and kicking ones.

One of the Stiletto clones, her emerald eyes gleaming with malice behind her mask, spun ominously toward Max. Advancing, she raised a mace, aiming it at his head.

If Max was going to go down, he would go down swinging.

Fist clenched, he threw the hardest punch he had ever thrown at the Stiletto doppelgänger.

Before the punch could connect, someone grabbed his arm.

Thrashing, Max tried to free himself. He felt his elbow connect with someone’s face.

“Max!” someone said urgently. “Max, calm down! It’s all right.”

The environment around Max blurred and melted, fading away to nothingness.

He blinked, and suddenly realized he was seated. He was sitting up in a bed. Damian was holding him, trying to restrain his flailing arms.

“Easy, Max! It’s okay, you’re safe!”

Max, panting, confused, looked around frantically, struggling to separate where he had been an instant before from where he was now. His head throbbed with a dull ache, adding to his disorientation.

Damian turned to Gene, who stared at Max wild-eyed. “Gene, go get Dr. Asclepius. Quick!”

Gene fled the room like she was being chased. Max watched her go, still trying to piece together what was happening.

Knight Templar was gone. The Stiletto clones were gone. His future wives were gone.

All of Madison Square Garden was gone, replaced by the sterile environment of a hospital room. Max realized he had been here before. This was the same room Edgar had been confined to before the speedster’s discharge.

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It was the infirmary. Prometheus Academy’s infirmary. Max was still on Villains Island.

Max’s brain seemed to be booting up like an obsolete computer. It slowly sifted fact from fiction.

Escaping Villains Island. The press conference. Meeting Knight Templar. The Hero offering to get him into The Crucible.

None of it had been real. It was all a dream.

The Capture the Flag tournament had been real, though. The last thing Max remembered from it was sinking to the ground, enemy flag in hand, just inches from victory.

Those inches might as well have been miles.

Max went limp with dismay. He felt as deflated as a Macy’s Parade balloon the day after Thanksgiving.

Seeing that Max had calmed down, Damian released his grip on him. Concern shone on his roommate’s face.

Dr. Asclepius burst into the room, his white lab coat fluttering behind him. The silver-haired medical man with thick silver bands encircling his head, waist, and wrists moved with brisk efficiency, pushing Damian out of the way of Max’s bedside.

Dr. Asclepius activated the holographic display that projected from the band around his head, scanning Max intently. “Let’s see if anything’s changed since my initial examination,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else in the room. Tentacle-like metallic extensions swiftly stretched from the band around his waist, gently probing Max’s head, emitting a soft blue light that danced across Max’s skin.

After a few moments of examination, Dr. Asclepius nodded with satisfaction.

“Well, Mr. Blackwood, you’ve had quite a knock, but you’re healing nicely from my initial treatment. No concussion, no lasting injuries. Just a nasty bump on the head and a bit of a shock to the system. You should be fine with some additional rest. Thank your lucky stars you’re as thick-headed as the typical Prometheus Academy hooligan. I’ll keep you overnight for observation, but after that, you’re free to go.”

Max touched the tender spot on the side of his skull the doctor had been examining, winced, and snatched his hand away.

“What happened?” Max asked dully.

“You tripped and fell during the Capture the Flag tournament,” Damian said. “Hit your head on a rock. You’ve been out cold ever since.”

“I was the one who found you.” Gene was round-eyed. “You were splayed out like a drunk who’d hit his head after passing out. Blood was everywhere. I thought you were dead.”

A spark of hope rekindled within Max. “The flag, Gene,” he said intently. “Did you plant Damian’s team flag after you found me?”

Gene sniffed contemptuously. “I wasn’t worried about the stupid game when I found you. I thought you were dead. The smack to your noggin must’ve affected your hearing.”

Seeing the dismayed look on Max’s face, she added, “Our team wasn’t going to win the tournament by that point, anyway. The victory klaxon sounded before I found you, declaring another team had already snagged first place.”

Max slumped into his pillow. He hadn’t cried since his father died, but he felt like crying now. He had been so close to getting off this damned island. So close.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. The flag, the quiet sound that made him turn, the pain. He remembered all that, but didn’t remember stumbling over anything.

“You say I tripped,” he said slowly, cudgeling his brain. “I don’t recall tripping.”

“You hit your head pretty hard,” Damian said. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

“Short-term memory loss is common with head injuries,” Doctor Asclepius agreed.

“There was a big rock stuck in the ground right by your foot,” Gene added, “and a smaller bloody one by your head. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what happened.”

Max was dubious. He still had no memory of tripping. “The drones overhead were recording everything. I want to see the footage of me tripping.”

“I already examined the drones’ footage,” Doctor Asclepius said. “Unfortunately, Mr. Blackwood, the accident occurred under the thick canopy of a tree. It shielded you from the drones’ view. They did not record the incident.”

Max gave the doctor a sharp look.

“Why would you examine the footage?” he demanded, sitting up again. “Why would a doctor need to do that? What’s that got to do with treating me?”

Doctor Asclepius drew himself up to his full height.

“Mr. Blackwood, when we first met, you told me your bandaged hands were fine when they weren’t. Now you’re questioning how I go about practicing medicine. I see your South Park Elementary Medical School degree has completely gone to your head.”

Something about the way the medical man wouldn’t totally meet Max’s gaze gave Max pause. The doctor was eccentric, there was no doubt of that, but this was the first time he had struck Max as furtive. He had evaded answering what spurred him to review the drones’ footage.

“What about Molly?” Max asked. “She was supposed to be protecting home base, but I didn’t see her there. What happened to her?”

“She says she stepped into the bush to go to the little girl’s room,” Gene said. “Since she was still imprinted on you at the time, she knew you were returning with the flag and were so far ahead of Damian’s team, there wouldn’t be any harm in her leaving her post to tinkle.”

“Why wasn’t she the one to find me instead of you?” Max asked Gene.

“The blow that knocked you out also knocked her out,” Gene explained. “Because of your psychic link. I found her, too. Lying on the jungle floor just like you were, looking like a corpse.” Gene made a face. “A shame she wasn’t, considering how she kissed you without consent. That’s sexual assault. Imagine the nerve!”

Seeing the skeptical look on Max’s face, Damian added, “There’s a lump on Molly’s head right where yours is, Max. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.”

Max turned to the doctor, feeling like a detective investigating a crime.

“Did you examine Molly too, doc?”

“Indeed I did,” he responded haughtily. “I hope that meets with your approval, Doctor Blackwood. Ms. Tanaka’s injuries were not as severe as yours, so I treated and released her. She’s back to the usual Prometheus student hooliganism. As she explained it to me, the injury she suffered due to being psychically linked to you when you fell is akin to someone under hypnosis manifesting a burn blister simply because they’re told they’ve been burned. Doctor-patient confidentiality applies, so I’ll say no more about Ms. Tanaka.”

Looking frazzled, Doctor Asclepius excused himself in a huff. Damian and Gene left shortly thereafter, Max making it clear he was in no mood for chitchat.

Once everyone was gone, he stared at the ceiling. He was moping, feeling sorry for himself. But there was a good bit of thinking sprinkled in with the moping.

He had been kidnapped and kept at this school against his will. Then, just when he was on the cusp of getting off the island, he had tripped and knocked himself out. Conveniently, there was no footage of this supposed accident.

There were two possibilities:

Max was the unluckiest person on the face of the earth.

Or, the conspiracy that brought and kept him here had worked its black magic again.