Part 1 of The Follies of Baby-Face Finlayson series: Weather Machinations, Roger the Dodger x OC

Storyline taken from original Beano comics, with sampled and edited scripts.

A geek. A nerd. A suck-up and a goody-two-shoes. I've got all the usual nicknames of a hardworking student.

The most famous kids in Beanotown have reputations of being bad. When Dennis makes mischief, people know what he's done sooner or later. But me? I've got the reputation of being good; I'm never caught.

You might say I'm invisible, sitting here in the Inventors Fair with my heated gloves and scarves laid out in front of me, my table sandwiched between Cuthbert Cringeworthy and Walter 'the Softy''s stalls, but he's not. My eyes are drawn to him as soon as he walks in.

I didn't expect him to be there, but why shouldn't he have been? He clever and yet he's careless, smart and casual... I blame my infatuation with him on the romance novels I read, with the bad-boy always falling for the good girl. But as I've said before, I'm a far cry from good.

He's here with his Mother. It surprises me for a moment, but then I deduce that it was her who dragged him along. He's walking as far apart from her as he can, casting an unimpressed eye over the other inventions.

I suddenly feel like my half-assed attempt is too weak. I'd nabbed the heated gloves and scarves from the supermarket and passed them off as my own, to get into my teacher's good graces - you see, if your teacher likes you, they don't care if you or your homework is late. One afternoon at an inventors fair, a hundred late passes on homework. Sounded like a good trade to me.

But I digress. He was slowly coming up to my stall - I could just about hear his mother talking.

"This is amazing!" She exclaimed, gesturing to a homemade portable speaker on another table, small enough to fit into a thimble. "Wouldn't you like to do something clever like this?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, right. Like I want to hang out with a load of swotty spods and nerdy geeks."

His mother sent him an amused look. "You've really got a clever mind, you know, Roger."

Roger scowled and looked away. "I know, mother. And thanks for patronising me."

She sighed. "Why don't you do something worthwhile with it, instead of your silly little dodges?"

He smiled then. "Because dodges help you get on in the world. Dodgers win," he replied proudly. "Hel-lo..."

He broke away from his mother and approached Walter's table.

"Hello, Softy!"

Walter turned to face Roger with a tiny frown. "Actually, the name's Walter."

Roger ignored him. "So, Softy, what's this do?"

Walter's chest puffed up with pride as he stepped aside to reveal a large machine with all kinds of buttons and levers, and a screen at the top.

"WALTER: Mark 1 predicts the weather," he explained importantly. "If we look at today's weather, there will be-" Walter pulled a lever and read out the verdict from a receipt-like piece of paper that was ejected from the machine. "-Snow!"

As if. It was the middle of June and as warm as my scarves.

"Yeah," Roger said with a wry grin. "I think it needs a little work."

He turned away, his eyes travelling up to meet mine.

"Oh, hi Squirt," he greeted nonchalantly.

"Hi," I replied with what I hoped was my brightest smile.

He walked over and glanced down at my stall. "Nice stuff. How much for the scarf?" He pointed to a blood red one with a black stripe at the hem.

"Three pounds each, but I can do it for less for you," I offered.

He patted his pockets. "I've got nothing - hang on. Give me a minute."

He sauntered over to Cuthbert.

"Here, spod-boy. I need change. Could you lend me a fiver?"

Cuthbert checked his pockets and brought out a couple of coins. "But I only have four pounds," he complained.

Roger gave him a winning smile. "No worries. You can owe me the pound."

Cuthbert narrowed his eyes as he handed over the coins. "Are you trying to swizz me, dodger? You'll pay me back, won't you?"

"Of course. Actually, that pound you owe me: can I have it now?"

Cuthbert shook his head. "I don't have any more money on me now."

"Huh! Well if you're going to be like that have back your flipping four quid!" Roger tipped the money back into Cuthbert's hand. He then took one of the pound coins. "Minus the pound you owe me, obviously. Trouble is, I still need that fiver. Are you sure you can't lend me it?"

"N-no," Cuthbert stammered. "I only have three pounds now, somehow."

Roger shrugged and took the money. "Well give me that then, and you can owe me the two pounds."

"Wait a minute!" Cuthbert exclaimed. He put us hands on his hips. "You are swizzling me! Give me back my three pounds!"

"Okay, okay! Here's your three quid." Roger put the money in Cuthbert's hand, and then took two of the remaining three pounds. "Minus the two pounds you owe me, obviously."

Cuthbert screwed up his face and shouted: "TEACHER!"

The Teacher from Bash Street School hurried over. "What appears to be the problem, gentlemen?"

Roger crossed his arms. "Nothing. This swot just owes me some money, that's all."

Teacher turned to Cuthbert. "Do you owe Roger some money, my prized pupil?"

Cuthbert's forehead wrinkled. "No... I'm almost certain I don't!"

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Well, hang on. You owed me a pound, and I gave you four pounds. Then you owed me two pounds and I gave you three pounds. By my reckoning you owe me three pounds - and you've plenty to spare with all I've given you!"

Teacher's foot began to tap. "Is this true, Cuthbert?"

Cuthbert seemed very confused. "Yes, but no, but yes, but-"

Teacher took the money from Cuthbert's shaking palm. "You can't argue with logic, Cuthbert. Here, Roger, here's your money."

"Thanks, Teacher."

Roger moved back to my table. "Here you go," he said, holding out the three pounds.

I stifled a giggle and took the money, handing him the scarf.

"Any reason why you want a scarf in June?" I asked, slipping the change into my pocket.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Oh, yes. You'd better kit up and stay inside for the next few days. There's a storm coming Squirt, in the shape of Dodge 894."

He walked off before I even had the chance to reply, leaving me puzzled and watching his back closely as he approached Walter.

"Here, tell you what, Walt. Let me borrow your machine and I'll see what I can do to fix it."

I swallowed thickly. What could Dodge 894 have to do with Walter's weather machine?

I didn't have long to wait. I was watching the Beano News 24 while I ate breakfast the next morning, as per usual. Winston the cat had rescued daft Smiffy from a tree, and the Mayor had awarded Cuthbert the Inventor's Contest award for dedication to STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Maths).

"Now it's over to Maxie with the weather."

The blonde weather-woman nodded. "Thank you, Nick. As you can see, today will be sunny all day, with-"

"Rubbish!" Someone hissed from behind the scenes.

Was that..?

Maxie continued, although she seemed slightly disgruntled. "Erm, with a few light clouds in the afternoon-"

"Piffle!"

"- and temperatures of twenty to twenty-five-"

"Balderdash!"

What does he think he's doing? Or, more importantly... What is he doing?

"And a pleasant outlook for-"

Roger popped his head onscreen and shouted, "Poppycock!"

Maxie practically growled at him. "What is your problem?"

Roger sidestepped into full view, his hands moving expressively as he spoke. "Viewers, this woman is a charlatan! She knows nothing about weather predicting!"

"Now that's poppycock!" Maxie stamped her foot. "Security!"

Roger shook his head. "I can prove it."

He beckoned to the camera and it followed him as he walked to the right, off of the set. He stopped in front of none other than WALTER: Mark 1.

I put my spoon back into my cereal bowl and watched the TV intently.

"This is the Weather And Local Temperature Electronic Locator - WALTER for short - and it predicts that today..."

He pulled the lever and read the piece of paper. "Today there'll be storms!"

"What rubbish!" Maxie cried. I must say, I was inclined to agree with her.

What is he up to?

"Yup, hurricanes, in fact. Tree-toppling, roof-rattling, high-sided-vehicle-knocking-over whirlwinds!"

Maxie looked directly at the camera. "He's wrong, you know! I studied meteorology and everything! Oh, come on, folks. You can't believe a schoolboy over me?"

The camera slid over to Roger. There was an evil-looking glint in his eye that made me highly uncomfortable. "Let's just have a look outside then, shall we?"

The footage switched to that of a local reporter on the street. As I watched, his hat was snatched from his hand, and he seemed to be struggling to stay on his feet.

My mouth fell open. What in the world..? WALTER was a dud last time I saw it! What did he do to it?

I could barely hear the reporter introduce himself over the howling wind, and when the camera turned I could see why. Three twisters were snaking towards him, ripping off tiles and hurling them at those who were caught out. People were running into buildings and others were barring their windows. Leaves were whipping through the air and being sucked up into the whirlwinds, and the rain was slowly making the image blurry.

Switching back to the studio, an argument was ending between Nick and Maxie.

"You said there'd be no storms! You said you'd studied meteorology!"

"It's impossible!" Maxie babbled. "It should be sunny! It's a freak storm hitting Beanotown and nowhere else!"

Nick threw his hands in the air. "Oh, well, that's alright then! We need a proper expert. Call Roger the Dodger!"

Security lugged Roger back on set and set him back on his feet. He wrinkled his nose and dusted off his red and black chequered shirt.

"So, Roger, what does WALTER say, you clever young chap?"

Roger glanced at the paper. "It says the storms will be over by tonight," he announced.

Nick mopped his brow. "Phew. That's a relief."

"But tomorrow there will be a plague of mosquitos!"

"No way! You got lucky with the storms, but there's no way we can have mosquitoes!" Maxie turned to the screen. "I promise you! Mosquitos live in particular climates, and June is just not mosquito season!"

I turned the TV off and grabbed my schoolbag. I was going to find out what he was up to, if I was the last thing I ever did!

At Beanotown high there was little room to breathe, there were so many teens. My year - year eleven (that is to say, sixteen-year-olds) - was already full to capacity, so it was no wonder that I usually managed to stay under the radar. Naturally, Roger was the talk of the town now, and while everyone else was soaked to the skin - me included - he was wearing a long waterproof coat. I was the first to spot him as he walked through the doors to the school, but he was mobbed before I even took one step towards him.

Peering over the heads of my fellow students, I could just about see him. He pushed a hand back through his dark hair and laughed at what someone just said, shaking his head, then pushed forwards through the crowd without answering any questions.

I knew I had to get him alone some way if I had any chance of getting him to spill the plans for Dodge 894. But how to go about it?

As it turned out, it was relatively easy. He complained about feeling sick in chemistry, and without a pause the teacher selected me to escort him to the medical room.

I jumped up, knowing it was my chance, and as soon as we were out of the classroom I rounded on him.

He was no longer holding his head dramatically. Instead, he was sporting a wicked grin that made me all the more inquisitive.

He leaned in towards me, and I fought the need to lean closer. "I can see you're desperate to know," he whispered darkly, his eyes searching my face.

I bit my cheek. "Then why don't you tell me what you're up to?"

He smirked, still uncomfortably close to me. "Where would be the fun in that, Squirt?"

"I'm serious, Roger. Whatever you're doing to the weather is dangerous, I know it!"

He finally stood back, but his smirk didn't fade. "I'm glad you're so concerned, but don't you worry. I've always got a dodge up my sleeve."

I scowled. "And I always have polos up mine. Really, it's not-"

He glanced at my jumper curiously. "Polos?"

"Yes, polos. But look-"

"Is that why you always smell like mint in class?"

I flushed scarlet. "Yes! Now will you listen to me?"

"Nah, Squirt. I rather like frustrating you."

I poked a finger in his chest. "I'm warning you, if this does go wrong, don't say I didn't warn you!"

He shrugged. "Alright. I've got to go - but one thing: don't leave school until later than the others."

"Why?"

He winked. "A plague of mosquitoes is due in exactly half an hour... When the bell rings. See you around."

"I hate you!" I whisper-yelled at him as he jogged down the corridor.

"I'm counting on it!" He shouted back.

I went back into the classroom with my cheeks flaming red. I got several looks and a few sniggers as I walked back to my seat and sat down.

When the bell rang I bolted out of my seat and took the stairs two at a time into the library, which had a prime view of the school entrance.

As the students started to flood out of the gates, a few started to slap their necks and exposed skin. After a few seconds, the crowd descended into uproar as people seemed to be being stung left and right, yelping and yelling as they got bitten. It seemed no one was safe out there, and it just served to confound me more.

How is he doing this? How could he predict it so accurately... If it isn't a dodge? Dodge 894, to be exact. But then, how is he simulating the bites?

When the entrance cleared of rampaging students I deemed it safe to go and left the safety of the school. To further prove my theory that this was all a clever ruse, I wasn't bitten once on my way home.

As soon as I got home I turned the news on. Sure enough, BEANOTOWN WEATHER flashed up on the screen and I perched myself on the edge of the sofa anxiously.

Nick, Maxie and Roger stood in the centre of the screen. Nick seemed excited, Maxie incredulous and Roger looked wholly indifferent to the situation.

Nick looked at the camera and then, after the signal that they were live, smiled at Roger.

"So, what else does your machine say, Roger?"

Roger's smirk was coy. "Do you want the good news, or the bad?"

Nick frowned. "Give us the bad."

"Thunder, lightning, wind and rain, tidal waves," Roger recited. He glanced at the paper again. "Oh, and a flood."

Maxie let out a little squeak of indignation before composing herself. "And the good news?"

"You can now buy heated scarves and gloves from Libl! Scarves £3.99, gloves a fiver!"

He smiled at the screen, and my fingers tightened around the sofa arm.

Maxie's shoulders sagged. "Out of interest, how much would you be selling this WALTER machine for?"

"As I say, the machine's not mine to sell. Roger shrugged. "But I can introduce you to its inventor, Walter the-

Nick interrupted quickly, casting a worried glance at the camera. "Walter! Just call him Walter."

"Yes." Roger raised an eyebrow and rested his hand on the machine. "Well, I'm sure you'll be able to come to some deal with Walter. He's very reasonable."

A new voice cut in. "We're still on air," they reminded.

Nick's face dropped and he nodded. "Uh, yes! So, we'll keep you up to date on the thunder, lightning, wind, rain and tidal waves, viewers."

"And the flood," Roger reminded.

"Um, yes. That's all for today's weather, folks!"

The broadcast cut to interviews of students hit by the Beanotown mosquito plague.

I wasn't listening, though. I was working through all the places Roger was likely to be now the weather report was over. If the weather people wanted it, he'd have to go to Walter's house in order to seal the deal and sell it. Most likely they'd drive him there, and he'd be walking home afterwards, right? Walter's house was on the other side of town, about an hour away by foot but only fifteen minutes by bus.

I checked the bus timetable on my phone as I slid my feet into my school-shoes, grabbed my wallet and locked the front door behind me.

I sprinted to the stop and arrived just as my bus was pulling up. I waved my pass at the driver and sat right at the front, checking my phone obsessively.

And then, ten minutes in, there it was.

BREAKING NEWS, the alert read. BEANOTOWN WEATHER MACHINE SOLD.

I was so engaged in the report that I almost missed my stop. I jabbed the red STOP button and jumped to my feet, thanking the driver before getting off.

I only had to walk for a minute before I literally bumped into Roger. I was walking so briskly that I walked into him as I rounded the corner.

"Woah," he said, grabbing my arm. He looked up and saw it was me; his nose wrinkled adorably. "Squirt? What are you doing skulking around here?"

I frowned and removed his hand from my arm. "I could say the same to you, Dodger." I glared accusingly down at the wodge of cash in his hands.

"Oh, this? It's from the weather machine."

"You sold it."

"It wasn't mine to sell. They bought the machine from Softy, and I took my twenty-five percent for brokering the deal."

"And when they realise the machine doesn't work?"

He gave me a sharp look. "You caught on quick," he said. I couldn't tell if it was shock or praise.

"You weren't exactly secretive with me. So..?"

He shrugged and pocketed the cash. "When they twig it doesn't work, that's Walter's problem, not mine."

"Hm." I ran a critical eye over him. "Where there's a dodge there's a con, but I'm still trying to work out how you managed to bring the weather to Beanotown and nowhere else."

He smirked widely. "Trade secrets, I'm afraid."

"Enough with the secrets! Don't you trust me?"

"Not as far as I can throw you."

"Want to test that out?"

He ran a hand up through his hair exasperatedly. "Fair enough. Alright. Can you keep a secret?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes!"

"Then here's how I did it." He pulled me back from the road so our backs were to the thick holly hedge. "For the first storms, I just begged a simple favour from Billy Whizz."

"Oh, I should've been able to guess that one!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry, am I going to explain or what?"

"Sorry. Continue."

He glanced around furtively and spoke quickly. "As I was saying, I begged a favour from Billy Whizz and got him to run in circles to make the hurricanes and tornadoes. For the mosquitoes, I told Minnie about an upcoming pea shooting competition and that part of it is staying out of sight. Hence the 'mosquito' stings. But to make thunder, lightning, tidal waves and a flood required a very special team and a very special dodge."

The corner of my mouth lifted involuntarily. "Dodge 894?"

Roger nodded. "Exactly. The Reservoir Dodge, involving Min, Fatty, Billy and Calamity James."

"Let me guess," I interrupted. "Billy created a cyclone that sucked up all the water from the reservoir. That was your wind and rain."

He incinerated his head. "Very good..."

"And... Fatty jumping in the sea created the tidal wave, and the flood."

"Naturally."

"But I don't understand how Minnie or James come in?"

Roger pushed his hand through his hair again. I silently wished he stop doing it, the action kept distracting me from my investigative work - I kept getting the urge to run my fingers through it myself.

"It's a little outside the box, to be sure," he said, startling me from my thoughts. "See, I got Minnie to drink a bottle of pop - then she burped into the microphone. When I played that back through the tannoy, voila! That's your thunder."

"And James?" I questioned.

He smiled. "The one and only walking Calamity. All he had to do was hold a toaster and stand in the middle of Beanotown. Lightning was sure to strike him with all Billy's storm clouds around."

I stifled a giggle and turned my smile into a vague grown. "Now that's just cruel."

"Perhaps. But it was a perfect dodge." Roger gave me a sidelong glance, daring me to say otherwise. I didn't. "Everyone's happy - except maybe Walter when they discover it doesn't work."

My eyes roved over Roger's shoulder and widened as I saw a blue jumper. "He's headed this way!"

Roger shrugged. "It's fine, I can deal with whatever Softy throws at me."

Walter was running towards us, hands in the air, waving to catch our attention. Roger span on his heel rather gracefully to face Walter.

"Hi, Walt, about your weather machine. I forgot to mention, it doesn't-"

Walter was holding a stack of money far greater than what Roger had stashed in his pocket. I cast a wary eye around for onlookers - there were none.

"Great news Roger!" Walter cried as he ran up to us. "I've sold it!"

I cut a look at Roger and hissed, "He doesn't know you sold it?"

He chose to ignore me, instead he sighed and spoke to a breathless Walter. "Yeah, I know. To the telly people. I arranged it."

Walter shook his head whilst he clutched his heaving chest. "No, no. I got a better offer at the last minute. This businessman paid ten times as much." He held out the money. "I'll count out your share."

Rogers eyes bugged. "Wow! What a dodge-tastic result!"

"Who was this businessman, anyway?" I asked dubiously.

Walter was counting notes, and didn't quite register the question. "Fifty, sixty, seventy -Oh, uh, I think his name was Finlay-something. Weren't you the girl at the science fair?"

I heard a gulp. Roger's Adam's apple was bobbing intermittently, and he seemed to be struggling to speak. His hand shot out and gripped mine, as if he needed support. "F-Finlay-something?"

Walter nodded, oblivious. "That's right - ninety, one hundred, one hundred and ten-

Roger gripped my hand even tighter. "Not Baby-Face Finlayson!" Roger gasped. "Tell me you didn't sell it to Baby-Face Finlayson!"

"I think that was the name, yes," Walter replied.

I frowned, utterly lost. "Sorry, but who is he?"

Roger glanced down at our hands and let my aching fingers go, and gaped at me as if shocked at my lack of knowledge. "He's the meanest gangster in history!" He spluttered. "When he finds out the machine's rubbish he'll discomboom erate Walter! And me!"

Walter rolled his eyes, not looking up from his money. "You mean discombobulate, and you didn't get the context right. Discombobulate means-"

Growling in frustration, Roger glared at Walter. "Baby-Face will blow us up, erase us, kill us, torture us, we will be in deep trouble! Come on, Walter!" He tugged at Walter's sleeve to get him to start walking. I trailed behind, trying to make sense of the situation.

Exactly how dangerous is this 'Baby-Face' anyway? With a name like that...

Another thought hit me like an icy wave, and a shiver wracked down my spine. Roger is scared of no one.

Walter, up ahead, glanced up. "Uh, what did you mean when you said my machine's rubbish?"

"Later! Walk faster! We've got to get out of Beanot-"

I followed Roger's gaze. Up ahead, a black van was approaching, with more people on the pavement.

Roger paled. "Uh oh. Other way!" He grabbed my arm. "And you get out of here, Squirt! Cross the road!"

My eyes widened. "But-"

He pushed me away. "Now! Do as I say!" He ordered. The wild, desperate expression on his face was enough to make me turn tail and run, but only to the end of the street. I took a right and ran down the parallel street as fast as I could, weaving past the odd tree, postbox or pedestrian, before coming to a house with a holly hedge surrounding the back garden and some of the front. Thankfully there wasn't a car in the drive, so no one was at home.

Praying that they hadn't moved since I left, I slid through the gate into the back garden and went up to the hedge.

My prayers were answered. I could hear Roger frantically instructing a confused Walter as to what to do and what to say. He sounded even more panicked than before, and I just wanted to pull them through the hedge by the scruffs of their necks and high-tail it out of there.

A nasally voice heralded Baby-Face Finlayson's arrival. "Roger the Dodger and Walter the Softy, I presume?"

"N-no, we're not Roger and Walter," Roger denied shakily. "We're their cousins! That is to say, I'm Rodgrico - hello - and this is-"

Baby-Face snorted. "Shut up! I know you are. You double-crossed Baby-Face Finlayson, Dodger. And nobody double-crosses Baby-Face Finlayson!"

I let out a breath through clenched teeth. "You're in a nappy-full of trouble, Dodger," I muttered to myself. In any other situation I would have laughed at my joke. Instead it had a bitter taste in my mouth and I felt as though I'd just jinxed the pair.

"So," Baby-Face said conversationally. The volume of his voice raised as he continued: "I look inside this weather machine of yours, and what do I find? It's just cardboard, sticky tape and butterfly clips. This thing couldn't predict a sausage!"

Roger seemed to find some buried confidence. I even saw what I presumed to be his shape take a brave step forwards. "You've found a fault with WALTER? No problem. Allow us to give you a full and instant refund, and we'll say no more about it. Walter, your purse please?"

There was a sudden and loud crash and the sound of tearing and banging. It went on for a few seconds before it stopped and went deathly quiet.

"I don't want a refund," Baby-Face hissed menacingly. "I want revenge! Now, tell me, who was the girl who ran at the sight of me?"

Roger did a great job of playing dumb. "Who? What girl?"

Unfortunately, Baby-Face wasn't as stupid as his name. "The girl you were talking to just now. She ran off. A brunette."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Roger declared. "Maybe she just walked past us while we were talking and we didn't register it?"

"Well, if you don't know her, you won't mind if we take her in for questioning, will you?"

"What's the need? We don't know her."

"Then why are you protecting her, Rogerico?" Baby-Face's tone was smug. "You, man, follow her, bring her to HQ."

Roger growled. "No! Leave her alone! She doesn't deserve-"

The rest of his sentence was muffled, and I heard the sound of a small scuffle before Roger went quiet. I stuffed my hand in my mouth to stop myself from crying out as I heard a muted scream, my teeth digging little squares into my skin and cause if tears to leak from my eyes.

"Thank you, he was starting to annoy me," Baby-Face said. "Now, what do you bet, Mr Wilkes? Was she a stranger, friend, or girlfriend?"

My heart began to thump wildly and I dried away my tears. I had to do something to help the two. But what? There were at least two men out there, and another one searching for me.

Someone else, who I assumed was Mr Wilkes, spoke. "Girlfriend, sir, most definitely."

Baby-Face was quiet. Then: "Hmm. I bet... I bet he hasn't asked her on a date yet." He let out a guffaw and I heard something scrape along the floor. "We'll question her later."

A car door opened, and there was more scraping and huffing before the engine started. My eyes widened and I peeked through the hedge, knowing I wouldn't be able to follow a van on foot.

"There isn't enough room. You stay here, see if the girl comes back this way in the next ten minutes. Then come back to HQ."

"Yes, Sir."

I held my breath until the van drove away. It was a waiting game for the next ten minutes, the silence broken by the goon's tuneless whistling and humming.

Finally, after I was sure I'd die from fright, he took off at a fast walk down the pavement. I ducked out of the garden and followed the parallel street until I came to an alley between two houses and followed it through. At the end I checked both ways to see where he was, and upon seeing him further down the street I walked slowly after him, my head bent over my phone but my eyes flickering up every now and again.

I briefly entertained calling the police, but decided against it. After all, who knew who was in who's pockets in our society today? The police could be being paid to turn a blind eye. If he's so ruthless that Roger's scared of him, then surely the police would have dealt with him by now if they could - or would.

Baby-Face's hideout was a nondescript warehouse not twenty minutes walk from Walter's. The goon walked in, completely unaware of my presence, and didn't notice as I slipped in behind him into the large room. I immediately hid behind one of the pillars that supported the roof and peered about.

At one end of the room there was a huge tank of water, full of fish with a scaffolded platform next to it - curious. A domino trail, a see-saw and stage lighting had been set up too. Stranger still was the rope rigging set up next to the fish tank, to which was tied - Roger and Walter!

The two were sitting back to back on wooden chairs, tied thoroughly to them, with the backs of the chairs attached to the rigging. Both of them were out cold, their heads lolled forwards like limp puppets.

Baby-Face approached the goon, not ten paces away from me in my spot behind the pillar. "Did you find her?"

"No sir. Jones hasn't seen hide nor hair, neither. She slipped away."

"Brat!" Baby-Face spat "Spoiling my fun. Monitor the police lines. If she calls the police, track her and deal with it."

My blood ran cold.

"Yes sir, right away sir."

Baby-Face muttered to himself. "I don't suppose it matters, anyway. I don't need her for the plan."

"But we won't find out the outcome of the bet if we don't find her!" Mr Wilkes complained.

"True, true," Baby-Face said thoughtfully. "I'll just tell Roger we've got her in detainment. He'll soon tell us then."

Or not, you nappy-faced scum.

"Marvellous plan, sir. Most dastardly."

"Why, thank you!"

I skulked about the sides of the room, almost getting spotted several times. There was no way to get to Roger and Walter in the middle of the room without getting noticed. There were people milling about everywhere, and every man had some kind of weapon.

"Hm? Where am I...?"

My eyes snapped over to the boys. Roger was lifting his head, blinking and trying to lift his arms to rub them.

"Roger?" Walter asked groggily.

"Walter? What are you... Oh, rats!"

Roger woke fully, his eyes bright and alert. He scanned the room, taking in the men with guns with a similar reaction to mine: fear.

"Uh..." Walter said uneasily.

Roger carefully crafted his expression into one of calm. "Okay, Walter, I know this looks bad, but I'm the smartest kid in school. I'll be able to dodge our way out of this."

"Oh yes?" Walter asked hopefully.

"And monkeys might fly out of my bottom," I muttered angrily.

"Probably," Roger said.

"I should have listened to mummy!" Walter started to bawl. "Don't play with that Roger, she said! He's a wrong 'un, she said!"

"Shh! Don't worry, Walter, I'll save us. Somehow..."

"But how? Think Rog, think like your never thunk before!"

Upon seeing the two awake, Baby-Face approached them with a wide grin. "You'll never get out of this one, Dodger. Softy. My plan is foolproof."

Roger faced Baby-Face and offered a lazy smile. "Oh yeah? I think you've forgotten who I am, Baby-Face. I have friends, connections, even enemies who won't be very happy with my going missing."

Baby-Face snapped his fingers. "Oh, yes! Speaking of friends, I've got one of yours in detainment at the moment. Pretty little thing, she is."

Roger's eyes bugged and he suddenly tugged frantically at the ropes. "No... No, I told you to leave her! Let her go!"

I held my hands to my mouth in shock. Baby-Face was playing dirty, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. But who knew Roger would react like this..?

Walter attempted to calm him down. "Rog, I'm sure she's fine-"

Baby-Face rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Softy. She is not fine. The brat refuses to talk."

"What have you done to her?" Roger snarled. "Let me out, and I'll kill you!"

I couldn't believe what I was seeing or hearing. Roger, defending me?

"No, you won't kill me," Baby-Face said pointedly.

"Let her go!" Roger shouted. "I'll do anything!"

"Roger!" Walter hissed.

"Two tiny little things?" Baby-Face half out his pointer fingers, close together to emphasise the 'tininess' of the 'things'.

"Don't, Roger!" Walter warned. "You don't know what he'll ask!"

Good boy, Walter. Now Roger, listen to him!

Baby-Face sent Walter a glare and then sighed theatrically. "Or I could just go and dispose of her..."

Roger nodded slowly. "I'll do anything, Baby-Face. Just swear you won't hurt her."

Baby-Face grinned. "That's more like it. Now, here are the two tiny things: one, if your other 'friends' come to help you, you turn them away, quick-smart, or else she dies."

Roger gave a single nod to show his understanding. Walter was gobsmacked.

"Secondly, I have a bet with my man Wilkes..." Baby-Face's grin widened. "What is she to you?"

I felt like I was going to be sick. I lent my head against the cool painted concrete of the pillar, but it did nothing to cool the headache blossoming in my forehead, borne of the thundering pace of my heart.

Roger raised an eyebrow. "What is she to me?"

"Don't dodge the question," Baby-Face threatened.

"A- a friend."

"Are you sure?"

A pause. "Yes."

"No... Romantic attachment?"

A pause. "No."

Baby-Face's foot started to tap. "I'm not stupid."

Roger looked down at his lap. "Fine. I like her, okay? That's it."

"Aw, young love," Baby-Face cooed. "Such a shame you won't be able to tell her how you feel before you die!"

Walter's glasses almost slipped off of his nose. "Die? You're going to kill us?"

"Of course, what did you think when I said I wanted revenge?"

Realisation dawned on Walter's face. He started to shake. "M-money? I can give you lot of money-"

"Shut up! I don't want money, I want you dead!"

Roger cut into the conversation, his mask of calm now firmly back in place. "How exactly are you going to kill us, Baby-Face?"

Baby-Face smiled, showing mismatched, yellowed teeth. "See, Walter? That is an example of an educated question. Now, an educated answer: I'll tell you when the audience arrives."

"Audience?" Walter asked hopefully.

Roger shushed him.

I was torn. Go for help, or wait to hear Baby-Face's plan? If the dominoes have anything to do with it, his methods must be elaborate, and showy if he's invited an audience.

Even as I thought about it, people started to come through the double doors at the end of the warehouse. I was shocked to see yet more villains - Bully Beef, a vampire, Cyborg, The Joker - and still more that I couldn't identify, filing in and grouping for villainous chats.

Baby-Face spread his arms dramatically in welcome. "Ah, my fellow villains! Come in, come in. You're going to enjoy this one."

My chest tightened, on the verge of panic. How was I supposed to get out, let alone free the boys right under these Super Villains' noses?

Even as I watched, Baby-Face instructed Mr Wilkes to raise Roger and Walter. Wilkes hit a switch and they were suddenly pulled into the air and suspended over the tank. Roger followed the path of the rope with calculating eyes, and Walter looked to be faint.

Baby-Face clapped once. "Your attention, please! Just a quick debrief on the proceedings this evening. Ahem. So, to start off my devious little plan, I will push over this first domino, toppling the others to form an amusing image of my gorgeous face."

There was a smattering of applause.

Self-centred, nappy-loving, mafia-wannabe man-child!

"The last domino will fall on this see-saw, which will catapult Winston into the air," Baby-Face continued. He peered around at the audience for a reaction. "Do you see what I did there? Cat-apult?" A few awkward laughs. "Oh, please yourselves. So, the cat will stick its claws into this sack of catnip, and his weight will pull on this cord, raising this hatch..." As I watched, the lights switched on, illuminating said hatch. The beam swung around to illustrate each of Baby-Face's points. "...Out of which comes this candle, which will light up as it strikes this sandpaper. It will then come to rest under this rope, which burns through... Dropping Roger and Walter into this tank of deadly piranha fish!"

Piranha fish? I could hardly hear myself think for the applause and the pounding of my heart. How was I supposed to get them out of that? Save them from drowning, perhaps, but not being eaten alive.

I needed help.

I hugged the walls and sidled back the way I came. I kept my head high despite my terror, and though a few gazes slid my way my posture gave an impression of confidence and they assumed I belonged and thought nothing of it.

As soon as I was out of there I began to sprint. My trainers beat the pavement in a steady thrum, one two three four one two three four, my unsteady breathing the melody to go with it.

Only a minute into my run I spotted a bike leaning against a wall with no one around. I murmured an apology and nabbed it, vowing to take it back later. I needed it more in that moment.

Minnie was the first one I came across. She was shooting peas at people's open windows, and when she saw me cycling towards her she grinned and started shooting at me.

"Minnie, stop!" I shouted. "I've come to help you! Roger owes you money!"

She stopped. "What?"

I skidded up to her, hopped off the bike and proceeded to bend over, panting. "Have you... seen it? In the paper?

"What?" She repeated.

"Baby-Face Finlayson - paid a fortune for Roger's weather machine."

She frowned in thought. "The one that predicted those storms and that plague of mosquitos?"

I nodded eagerly. "That's the one."

"So... Why does he owe me money?"

"Who owes money?"

I turned to see Calamity James wandering over, Alexander Lemming by his side.

"The Dodger, she says." Minnie jabbed a thumb my way.

I nodded. "He owes you too, James."

James' eyes widened. "Me?"

"Him?" Minnie asked incredulously.

"Yes, and Billy and Fatty too."

Minnie looked me up and down with her arms folded. "You haven't said why yet."

"No, I haven't," I agreed. "Think about all that running and peashooting he asked you to do. Don't you think it was suspicious that he might ask you to do those things?"

"Yeah, so?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and put my hands out to show I was telling the truth (that was the idea, anyway). "He told me that the things he asked you to do was the weather. The wind and rain was Billy, the mosquitos were Minnie's peas, the flood was Fatty jumping in the sea and the lightning was attracted to James."

Minnie's eyes widened. She opened her mouth and screamed: "Bil-LY!"

Billy Whizz blurred past me to stand in front of Minnie. "You called?"

Minnie quickly caught his attention. "Look, have you seen it in the paper? Baby-Face Finlayson has paid a fortune for Roger's weather machine. The one that predicted those storms and that plague of mosquitos!"

Billy nodded. "Yes, why?"

"Well I've been having a think-"

Billy raised an eyebrow at her. "You? Think?"

James put up his hand. "I helped!"

Billy's eyebrow rose higher. "You? Help?"

James' face fell. "And Alexander Lemming here did too," he admitted.

Alexander waved. "Hiya."

Minnie stamped her foot. "Let me speak! Now all that running and jumping and peashooting Roger made us do was what made the weather, which means: I reckon Roger owes us a share of the dough!"

"Right on, Sister!" Billy exclaimed - although he still seems to be sorting through some facts in his head.

James followed the pair as they stalked away. "Wait for us!"

"Hold on!" I called. "He's with Baby-Face now! In the third warehouse on the industrial estate."

"Thanks, dweeb," Minnie said as she walked past me.

"You'd better hurry before he leaves!" I said. "Run!"

So they did. The four of them thundered down the pavement, money on their minds, and I threw myself on the bike and pedalled like I'd never done before, a stitch in my side and my heart in my throat.

What if it's already over?

I overtook them and speeded to the warehouse, swinging my leg over the side and throwing the bike to the ground when I got there.

I went in the same way as before, shouldering past the bouncer. That seemed to be all that was needed for him to let me in, which I was thankful of.

I got behind my pillar again - the one closest to Roger and Walter. Though the lights were on them, Baby-Face hadn't started it yet, and he seemed to be socialising before the big finale. Drinks were being handed out - champagne, oil (for the Daleks), and the vampire held a glass of what looked suspiciously like blood.

Finally, after a few minutes, Baby-Face returned to the stage.

"So, villains and villainesses, if you could all take your seats, I shall begin!"

Roger's eyes were drawn to the doors hopefully, but then he frowned. "Walter, in the door, is that...

"Minnie, Billy and James?" Walter finished excitedly.

Roger grit his teeth. "Oh no, they've come to rescue us!"

"Fantastic! Do they know we're here?"

Roger rolled his eyes. "I hope not!"

Walter twisted round to look at Roger sternly. "The life of that girl is not worth both of ours!" He berated. "I'd never even seen her before the fair!"

Rude. But true.

Roger's mouth turned down into a frown. "So?"

"So what's got you so wrapped up in her?" Walter asked. His eyes narrowed. "Do you have a crush on her?"

"No!"

Baby-Face scowled up at them. "What's all the commotion up there?"

"Nothing, nothing! You just carry on as you were," Roger called down.

Walter let out a noise of frustration. "The one time you think of someone other than yourself, for once, and it's when you're about to be eaten by piranhas!"

Roger shrugged. "Is that such a bad thing? Haven't I repented my sins?"

"No!" Walter said exasperatedly. "Because I'm here about to die with you!"

Baby-Face approached the dominoes with a flourish. "So, without further ado, I push the first dom-"

"Not so fast!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Minnie was there.

That was too close.

"'Ello 'ello 'ello, What's all this, then?" Billy asked, grinning.

"Curses! Brats!" Baby-Face bawled.

"Minnie!" Roger shouted. "Go away!"

Walter shook his head. "No, stay!"

From their shouting, Minnie's attention was drawn up to the piranha tank and the boys. "I see. You were about to eliminate our pals in a devious yet over-elaborate trap, were you? Well think again, nappy-features! We're going to stop you and teach you a lesson!"

I face-palmed. What could I do to help the quintet of idiots now? Nothing. Nada.

Baby-Face laughed. "Oh, I don't think you are."

Minnie replicated his laugh mockingly. "Oh yeah? And who's going to stop us?"

"Idiots," I muttered.

In less than five minutes, the villains had Minnie, Billy and James strung up with Roger and Walter. Billy gave them a run for their money, but with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide (plus the fact that they threatened to shoot him with a machine gun), he gave up pretty quickly.

"Nice work, guys. Brilliant rescue," Roger deadpanned.

Minnie scowled. "Shut up and start thinking! We're thirty seconds away from being fish food!"

James craned his neck to look down at the piranhas and gulped. "How did Baby-Face Finlayson say this trap works?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Roger said.

Walter was kind enough to fill them all in. "These dominoes topple, the last one drops on the see-saw, that flings Winston up in the air, he grabs the sack, that pulls the rope that lifts the hatch that lights the candle that burns the rope that drops us in the tank of piranha fish!"

James nodded wisely. "Yes. I thought that's what would happen."

Baby-Face, upon redelivering his speech, pushed the first domino.

I watched, helpless, as the dominoes click clacked down, starting to form the shape of Baby-Face's ugly mug.

"Come on," Roger encouraged. "We should be able to think of something! There's five of us now."

"Six!" James corrected.

Minnie head-butted him. "Shut up, Calamity! There's five! Me, Walter, Roger, Billy and you. Five!"

"And Alex. Six," James repeated.

Roger stared at James. "Alex? Who's Alex?"

"Alexander, my pet lemming. He came along too."

Billy glanced about. "What lemming? I can't see any lemming up here!"

But I could see a lemming down here. He dodged a waiter and raced over to my hiding place.

"Alexander!" I exclaimed. "We've got to help them-"

"I've got a plan. Stay here," Alexander instructed. He scampered away and I watched him disappear through the throngs of feet.

James' face was wrought with distress. "Oh woe is me! I truly am the unluckiest boy in the universe! About to be eaten by fish, and now I lose my best friend!"

Roger (quick-witted as he was) was the first to catch on. "Wait a minute! If Alexander lemming isn't up here, he must be - yes!"

I followed Roger's gaze to where Winston the cat sat on the see-saw. "Excuse me, Winston? Would you mind awfully coming here for a moment?" The clever lemming pulled the bewildered cat off of the see-saw just in time.

"Yes! He did it!" Roger cried. "Without Winston the whole trap's defunct! We're saved! We just need to get down so I can-"

I extracted myself from the safety of the pillar and darted off toward the scaffolded platform next to the fish tank, with the intention of reversing the mechanism in the confusion - but then Baby-Face turned to see why the villains were gasping and stomped his foot as he saw his ruined plan "Why, you rotten spoilsports! You don't get out of it that easily! I'll just climb up there and cut the rope myself!"

He climbed the stairs to the started toward the rope, but I was already there at the top, facing him boldly with my feet planted firmly on the wood.

"Oh, flipping will you?" I asked with a grin.

I heard Roger cry a startled: "What?" and Walter say: "But-" from behind me, but I didn't dare take my eyes off of the glinting metal of the scissors in Baby-Face's Chubb fist.

Baby-Face scowled and motioned with the scissors for me to move aside. "Curses! Not you! Move!"

I lifted my chin. "Make me!"

"You don't know what you're doing!" Roger yelled desperately. "Get out of here!"

"Shut up!" I called back, without turning. "I'm concentrating!"

I heard muttering from behind me as Baby-Face slowly approached my front. "Roger, why are you red?" Minnie asked teasingly.

"Listen to your boyfriend!" Baby-Face sneered. "Move out of my way!"

I hardened my expression, setting my jaw. "No."

"Well then..." Baby-Face narrowed his eyes and smiled smugly. "Chee-arge!"

Baby-Face rushed the last few metres, the scissors pointed straight at my stomach. As he approached I snapped my arm out and caught the wrist with the scissors, pulling him toward me. I moved at the last moment and his momentum and my hand pulling him past me caused him to lurch out over the tank - by then it was too late.

By some stroke of bad luck he grabbed Walter's foot and dangled there above the water, whimpering, the scissors lying out of his reach at the bottom of the tank.

Relief and elation swept through me as I regained my breath. Adrenaline was pushing me to a new high, and I couldn't help but grin like a maniac.

Minnie leaned forwards and stuck her tongue out at the terrified mafia boss below her. "Take that, you dummy-sucking demon!"

Walter was less pleased about the situation. "Let go of me, you little rat!" He cried, shaking his foot.

"Never mind that," Baby-Face squeaked. "Wilkes, what are you doing? Stop!"

Down below, Mr Wilkes held a pocket knife to the rope. He paused and looked up at the faces peering down at him, and smiled almost sweetly. "Just carrying out your orders, Sir."

And then he slit the rope.

"NO!" I screamed, reaching for the rope as it whizzed past me. I gasped as the rope burnt my palms and I involuntarily let go, tears leaking from my eyes.

Gone, gone, gone-

Surprised yelps met my ears and I turned back to the tank.

A smile spread over my face. Billy Whizz - the incredible boy - was flapping his feet, keeping them hovering. I knew they were too far down to pull up, so I raced down the stairs and found Alexander, giving him a few quick instructions.

Minnie blinked. "Where was the splash?"

James looked up, then down. "Why are we floating?"

"Guys," Billy groaned. "I can't keep this up much longer... I'm flapping my feet so fast they keep us hovering, but my legs are straining! About... To... Drop..."

"Alexander!" I called. "Quickly!"

Like an avenging angel-lemming, Alexander came into view, driving a huge forklift. He wedged it underneath the tank and lifted his side; the imbalance tipped the tank towards the villains, who squealed and started to run. Piranha-infested water sloshed from the tank and flowed away from us, towards the fleeing villains, chasing them out of the door with a wave of flesh-eating fish at their heels.

Once Billy lowered the five of then to the ground, Baby-Face took one look at their thunderous faces and fled, running over the piranha-scattered floor.

"Ouch - ow! You lousy kids haven't heard the last of Baby-Face!" He cried over his shoulder. "Ow, my bum!"

Alexander and I set about freeing the others from their chairs.

Once they were free, Minnie stretched and smiled triumphantly. "Well done us! The villains all scared away and our lives saved. You know, we don't make a bad team."

Roger hummed in response. His eyes strayed to me. I blushed - heavily. "With my brains and your... whatever, we should do this again some time."

"Yeah, maybe we should be a super team!" Billy said excitedly. "We should call ourselves the Whizz Kids!"

Look away from me, Roger, please.

Minnie shook her head. "Minnie's Minions!"

I couldn't blink.

"The Calamity James Gang!"

Why is Roger walking towards me?

"The AleX-Men!" Alexander piped up.

"No no no," Roger said, his eyes finally leaving mine when he got to my side. "I think The Dodgers, don't you?"

Minnie huffed. "Get out of it. There's no way I'm joining a team named after you!" She rolled her eyes and marched away without a goodbye or even a thank you. Typical.

He glanced secretively at me. "Devin's Dodgers, I think we'll call us."

My name. He knows my name. He didn't call me Squirt!

I forced a smile. "Minnie still won't join it," I pointed out, a slight wobble to my voice.

Roger shrugged. "Do we need her?" He asked softly.

"Well..."

"After her awful rescue attempt, I wouldn't recruit her," he admitted. He frowned and turned to face me fully. "Hey, how did you manage to Dynamo your way out of there, anyway?"

I smirked. "Trade secrets, I'm afraid." Funny how my voice exuded confidence, but my chest felt insubstantial to cage my heart.

Roger cocked his head. "Seriously."

I shrugged. "Seriously, he never even had me to begin with."

Roger closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "That scheming..."

I nudged his arm to catch his attention. "Leave it. It's over now."

He opened his eyes and pinned me with a stare. "That was reckless, what you did."

"I don't know why you're complaining," I said. "It did the job, didn't it?"

"Yes, but you could've gotten hurt-"

"But I wasn't."

"He was going to stab you with the scissors!"

I let out a disbelieving huff. "Are you really that worried about my wellbeing?"

Billy appeared at Roger's shoulder. "He was practically bawling for you while you stood up there-"

Roger span around to hit Billy, but the boy was too quick and danced out of reach.

"Billy!" Roger said. "That's a lie!"

"No it isn't," Billy disagreed. He made a disgruntled noise as Roger picked up a piranha by the tail and flung it his way, and mock saluted us before speeding away, making me laugh.

"I can't believe they were so stupid as to walk straight in," I mused, still smiling.

Roger nodded thoughtfully. "I still haven't asked how they found us."

"Easy," I said. "I followed Baby-Face here, heard his plans, then fetched the others. They were just stupid enough that they thought they could rival guns with pea shooters. I mean, come on!"

"Yeah, idiots," Roger agreed. "Uh... Wait. So you were there... Until he explained the plan?"

I scuffed my toe. "Yes..."

"And before he knocked us out? Before, before?"

"Mmm-Yes."

He wrinkled his nose. "Rats. Look, what I said-"

My spirits sank.

"I know."

He stared. "You do?"

"Yeah," I sighed, giving a slight shrug. "I need to head home anyway. I had fun, by the way. It was good."

He caught my arm as I went to turn away. "What are you on about?"

I tugged away from him. "Um... You didn't mean what you said? So I'm going home now."

He shook his head slowly. "No, Devin, you've misunderstood me. I did mean what I said."

"You... You did?"

He dipped his head. "Yep. Everything."

"Woah." I muttered. "Okay..."

I was stunned to be pulled by the arm towards him. My feet stayed where they were but my torso leant into Roger's chest, and all at once I was enveloped by his warm chequered jumper and cradled by his arms, my head on his chest.

It was only a second or so, but it was enough to let me hear the quick thu-thump of his fox-trotting heart.

He pulled back first. "Sorry. I should've asked first."

I blinked dumbly for a moment. "Ah... No, I don't mind. I mean- Can I-?" I motioned between us, and he nodded.

"Let's."

I raised my chin and met him halfway, my lips pressing against his in a sweet, naive gesture.

"Oi!" Minnie shouted.

I pulled away instantly, a blush spreading up my cheeks.

"Don't you go soft on me, Dodger!" She threatened.

Roger shot a glare at Minnie, who peered around the doorframe with a disgusted expression. "Don't you pry into my private life, Minx!"

He glared at her until she left, then turned back to me. I was still flush against his chest, one of his arms wrapped around the small of my back.

"Shall we try again?"

And we did.

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