I ran down the hall where I’d seen my cape disappear and burst through some swinging doors into a large laboratory, darkened except for some blinking lights on equipment I couldn’t make out. With the infra-red vision of my visor, I immediately spotted my cape and buttons; they lay lifeless on the floor just a few feet into the lab. For a moment, I feared my cape was dead.

I picked them up and shook the dust off. I slung my cape around my shoulders and snapped buttons back onto my uniform at the clavicles. The buttons responded by flashing magenta lights, and my cape fluttered.

“Good; you weren’t killed,” I said. “But something shut you down as soon as you entered this place. What…?”

The automatic lights came on. For the first time I could see how vast the space was. Unlike the relatively small laboratories Dr. Joe Levitch puttered around in when I’d previously visited the underground Megatonic University, this was a huge, almost factory-like space.

On tables and conveyor belts were dozens—scores—of lifeless robots in various stages of assembly. Most of the ones nearest to me were lifelike replicas of the security guard who’d stopped dead in her tracks after her power cord detached. Faces and hands were made of some brown plastic material; compartments on the metallic bodies revealed wiring and pneumatic servo motors. A rack of uniforms hung nearby, along with shoes, socks, and ID badges.

Presently, Rubber Brother, Domina, and the Phantom Jungle Girl burst into the lab behind me.

“You’re fast, Ms. Megaton Man,” Fanny remarked. “We almost didn’t know which corridor you turned down.”

“I replayed my cape’s last recorded moves,” I said, tapping the temple of my visor. “Sorry, I should have waited up for you guys.”

“Just as I thought,” said Jasper, his rubbery neck craning around to take in the entire room. “First, they’re building a labor force to help run Megatonic University. But then what?”

“There must be at least a dozen robotic security guards here,” said Dana, examining one of the life-like heads that awaited attachment to a cybernetic body. “Presumably, one for every entrance to Megatonic University. That means the spiral stair hidden in the kiosk we just came down must not be the only way in or out.”

“Secret Agent Preston Percy said he used the underground corridors to get around town at night,” I said. “To avoid the ruffians who like to beat up gay guys. The entrances must be well-hidden all around Ann Arbor.”

The Phantom Jungle Girl ventured past the facsimile guards to examine some of the other robots under construction.

“These Bots look bigger and meaner,” she said. “You’ll notice there’s no attempt to make them appear like realistic humans, unlike our friendly security guard model.” She pointed to stockpiles of what appeared like rifle-appendages awaiting attachment to robotic bodies. “They’re more like soldiers intended for some futuristic battlefield. Looks like they’re building an entire army’s worth. But to what end?”

We slowly worked our way through the big lab, taking in the dazzling array of gadgetry. Several of the robots looks all but complete; others were being boxed in custom-built containers, perhaps to be shipped somewhere. I supposed that only because it was the dead of night, the assembly line was idle.

“They’re not just building a mechanized labor force to populate Megatonic University,” said Jasper. “They’re working on something big—maybe a contract with the Pentagon.”

“That, or Dr. Joe’s gone rogue,” said Dana. “You know his twin brother is Julius Levitch. He was one of Megaton Man’s greatest foes—a megavillain called Doctor Software—now serving time in federal prison, I understand.”

“She speaks the truth,” said Jasper. “Doctor Software is the evil genius who built the Contraptoid, a cybernetic tough-guy who gave Megaton Man a run for his money.”

“But Dr. Joe couldn’t…” I sputtered. “He’s such a sweet, bumbling, incompetent, absent-minded professor. I can’t imagine him hurting a fly. Besides, if there was some urgent production schedule, wouldn’t you think this place would be working around the clock? You can’t even tell day for night down here; nobody would even know they were working on the night shift.”

“Maybe they got a union, just like Arbor State,” said Jasper. “Or maybe mad technologists are hard to find—not enough can be had to work in shifts. Besides, he haven’t seen anything that looks like a living space down here, have? They probably have a small crew of humans who live above disappear into academic buildings on the surface but come down here for their working day. All you’d need is a skeleton crew to run this place—the machinery appears fully-automated, like one of those high-tech auto plants.”

“Then for heaven’s sakes, don’t touch anything, Rubber Brother,” said Dana. “The way you’re stretching yourself all about, Jasper, you’re liable to hit the wrong button, and the whole place might come alive.”

“This complex is so big,” said Fanny, “maybe one of Joseph Levitch’s underlings is building this army of Bots right under his nose. You said yourself, Clarissa, that one of Dr. Joe’s trusted assistants, Mervyn Goldfarb, was mixing Mega-Soldier Syrup on the side in his bathtub and selling it on the street to college jocks and frat boys looking to beef up quickly. Face it, the days of one mad scientist creating one megahero at a time are over; they’ve scaled up operations considerably here at Megatonic University.”

“Fanny makes a good point,” said Dana. “This is only one room. If Megatonic University is as big and sprawling as the Arbor State campus above ground, they’re could be a dozen spaces like this down here, doing all different things—manufacturing robots, creating the next generation of megaheroes, developing weapons, and God knows what else.”

“Which reminds me,” said Jasper. “Aren’t we supposed to be looking for your friend, Missy?”

“Audrey!” I cried. I’d almost forgoten about Audrey Tomita, whom her roommate, Hadleigh Reese, had tearfully reported had been missing for a week. She was the whole reason we were rummaging around this top-secret facility in the middle of the night. “I swore I spotted her boyfriend, Wilton Ashe down here,” I said, tapping the temple of my visor. “Although something about this place make my equipment unreliable. But if Audrey’s anywhere, I’m betting she’s down here with him.”

“Kidnapped,” said Dana, her teeth gritted. “Another male predator, just like Chuck Roast.”

“We don’t know that,” cautioned Fanny. “Their covert relationship may violate Warren Woodward non-fraternization policies, and it may have begun when they were minors. But that doesn’t mean any crime has taken place.”

“Sure it does,” said Dana. “The girl found out her boyfriend was moonlighting as a tech for Megatonic University, so he kidnapped her to keep her quiet.”

“Let’s find Audrey first,” I said. “We can figure out why she might be down here later.”

We found the exit at the other end of the robot room and came to another corridor. This one was markedly more dank and unfriendly, with a barrel-vaulted ceiling lit by harsh side lights. Wiring stuck out of the walls at intervals next to perches meant for closed-circuit TV cameras which hadn’t been installed yet. We walked down the corridor several hundred feet before we came to more doorways, all unlocked. Megatonic University seemed to rely solely on its remote location deep underground for security, but not much else. I saw no sign even of the laser security system I recalled from my first visit.

We stuck our heads in some of the rooms for a quick peek and fully explored others. They were of various size, and in various states. Most were vacant or nearly so; some contained only a few unopened crates, no doubt containing pieces of scientific equipment awaiting assembly. Other spaces looked like they hadn’t been used in years. A few looked brand new, or recently remodeled. Most gave the impression of anodyne academic facilities that lay dormant over the summer months.

“It will take years to fill up all these spaces,” I said. “Meanwhile the campus up on the surface is overcrowded, with a dearth of office and classroom space.”

“Not necessarily years,” said Jasper. “They could be planning to move operations from elsewhere down here, or maybe it’s just auxiliary space they’re saving for a rainy day.”

“They could survive a nuclear war down here,” said Fanny. “I’m guessing that’s the idea. Whatever they’ve got going on down here, it’s of the highest priority so somebody.”

Before long, we came upon another fully-equipped laboratory. This one was by no means as big as the factory-sized Bot lab, although it was also devoted to robotics. There were maybe half a dozen machine-like robots—by which I mean there was no attempt to make them appear human—laying on what appeared to be dissection tables. All of them were badly damaged.

“A robot morgue,” said Fanny. “Looks like they’re cutting up the competitors’ models to figure out how they work.”

“The Recovery!” said Jasper. “Looks like robots from the Recovery.”

“The Recovery?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“It was a legendary UFO incident in the 1950s in New Jersey—an Unidentified Flying Object—that crash-landed in farm country. No one knew whether it was from the future or extraterrestrial in origin. Supposedly, it was manned by robots. But nothing was operable; everything was too badly damaged in the crash. The recovered materials were supposed to have gone to the Doomsday Factory, but went missing. Do you suppose…?”

“They ended up here?” asked Dana. “Well, some of these fellows do look fairly alien.”

Around us were at least three lithe, vaguely insect-looking robots, in various stages of disassembly, scattered around on several workbenches. They were made of a dark blue and grey metal, with lifeless red eyes made of glass or crystal. The parts appeared badly twisted, shredded, and scorched in places.

“Who’s this big, golden guy?” I wondered. “The others seem lithe and agile, but this one’s roughly the physique of Megaton Man.”

“Speak of the Devil,” said Jasper. “That’s none other than the Contraptoid itself. Wondered what happened to him after the melee in Central Park. You’ll notice he has no head or arms, and only one leg.”

“They’re over here, on this side bench,” said Fanny, prodding a piece of one of the Contraptoid’s missing limbs with her jungle javelin. “They must be backward-engineering all these specimens and applying the lessons learned directly to the new Bots they’re building down the corridor. Just like I’ve seen them do at Federal Motors—they have special labs where they just tear apart European sports cars, just to learn their secrets.”

There was still no sign of Audrey, and it was getting later. After we quit the robot morgue, the four of us discussed possibly splitting up so as to cover more ground, but we realized we had no shared means of communication. Alone, we’d be more at risk, so we decided to remain together and continue exploring room by room as a group, even if it took us all night.

Since I couldn’t rely on the computerized schemas Secret Agent Preston Percy had downloaded to my visor, we were essentially lost in the maze-like layout of corridors and laboratories far underneath Arbor State campus. The only one with any sense of direction at all was the Phantom Jungle Girl, who relied on what she called her “jungle sense.” At least she seemed confident we weren’t going around in circles, although all the corridors were beginning to look the same to me.

In the next fully-functional lab we stumbled across, we finally found what we had been looking for.

The overhead lights came on. Two figures sleeping under blankets on separate cots sat bolt upright, fully clothed.

It was Wilton and Audrey.

“Clarissa! What are you doing here?” asked Audrey, squinting and rubbing her eyes as she adjusted to the light. “You scared the Holy Bejesus out of us!”

“I should be asking what you’re doing here, Audrey,” I replied. “Hadleigh and Nancy are worried sick.” I just threw Nancy’s name in there for emphasis, although I had no idea if she was concerned or not.

“Your predatory boyfriend’s abducted you,” said Domina. She pulled Wilton up by his shirt collar. “What kind of sex-dungeon are you running here, anyway?”

“Are you people nuts?” said Wilton, after Dana unhanded him. He tossed his blanket on the cot and straightened his shirt. “It’s four o’clock in the morning. You’re not even supposed to be here—this is a high-security government installation.”

“Guarded by a robot who doesn’t have a long enough extension cord,” said Jasper, who was stretching around the lab to take in view. “Without so much as door locks or security cameras, at least in this section. You must not be working on anything important—maybe some science fair project. What are you working on here, anyway?”

“For heaven’s sakes, don’t touch anything,” said Wilton. “Everything in here is either delicate or classified or both.”

“If we had touched anything, you’d have heard us a mile away,” said Jasper. “We’ve been through a couple labs already, filled with some deadly looking robots. I was too scared to breathe, lest we might have set something off.”

“This is the deadliest looking robot of the bunch,” said Fanny.

The Phantom Jungle Girl was using the tip of her jungle javelin to lift up and peer under a sheet that covered a massive mechanical figure sitting motionless on a workbench in the middle of the room. Hoses and wires ran down from the ceiling to its head, which was little more than four pairs of camera lenses on a rotating mount under a large, glass sphere. More wires splayed out from its midsection, connecting it to various monitors and computer banks that blinked quietly.

“Careful!” said Wilton, who leapt between Fanny and the robot. “Rusty’s particularly touchy and unpredictable!”

Rusty looked like he was built to land on the moon. Dark, massive, top-heavy like Megaton Man, and even bulkier than the Contraptoid, the mechanical monster seemed like he probably could have taken a punch from the Man of Molecules himself and just rolled with it, then got up and fired back. His massive arms and legs seemed of hold a number of compartments that I assumed concealed weapons—laser beams, artillery shells, the works. On one of his pectorals was a video screen; on the other, the letters “B-50” and the word “Hybrid” shaped like a logo.

“The Hybrid Man,” I said. “But hybrid of what?”

“A hybrid of present and future technologies,” intoned a voice behind us. “The best of both worlds.”

A man in a lab coat had appeared in the doorway we had just entered. He was hunched over and seemed to have one lame leg. Round, thick, pop-bottle lenses were set in thick, black frames perched on his ample nose; his teeth were uneven and his face unshaven. He had short, black hair pasted down on his skull. He might have been a younger, less healthy version of Dr. Joseph Levitch himself.

“Grady Levitch!” I said, recognizing him from my first visit to Megatonic University. “You’re Dr. Joe’s nephew.”

“I go by Grady Grinnell,” the misshapen figure responded. “Mother raised me, after all. Father, if he’d had his way”—he swallowed hard—“would have me go through the entirety of my already miserable life as Leningrad Levitch. But Father always had a rather perverse sense of humor. You’ve heard of my father, haven’t you? My father, Doctor Software?”

Grady fingered something in the pocket of his lab coat.

“Watch out, Crime Busters,” I called out. “He’s got some crazy gizmo-gun that shoots paralyzing, violet light! He zapped me and Kozmik Kat with it, the first time I was here.”

“Don’t worry,” said Grady. “I have strict orders from Uncle Joe not to harm you—this time.” Through is pop-bottle lenses, he glanced over at Wilton and Audrey, who had instinctively positioned themselves in front of the hulking robot, protecting it. “But I can hardly overlook the fact that none of you are supposed to be down here—especially the two of you.”

“Why are you two down here?” I asked of Wilton and Audrey.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Audrey. “Wilton’s been helping to build Rusty for several months—not with this unoriginal goon, but a real scientists, who just went missing.”

“Only, we made him too good,” Wilton continued. “Rusty’s too efficient a killing machine. We can’t inflict him on the present—he belongs on a future battlefield. Hopefully, a battlefield that will never happen.”

“We’d been up for seventy-two hours straight,” said Audrey, “getting ready to spirit him away before the Pentagon could seize him and use him as a prototype to make hundreds of knock-offs. But Rusty’s got a soul—they’ll kill him to make copies. You saw how they are dismembering those robots from the future in our morgue…unfortunately, Clarissa, you seem to have led Grady right to us.”

“It’s true,” said Grady. “I suspected this little project was going on, but damned if I could find the right lab. You’ve been using some kind of distortion field, haven’t you?” He said this to Wilton, accusingly. “The simple act of walking down a corridor has become all but impossible down here—I’ve been walking around in circles for the past few weeks.”

“Do you live down here?” I asked.

“Of course not, Ms. Megaton Man,” Grady replied. “I live on the surface, like a human being. Only lab rats live down here…lab rats and other vermin. But like I said, none of you afre supposed to be down here, and thanks to your own distortion field, nobody knows you’re down here. Hence, nobody will know you’re missing. And like the rat and vermin you are, you’re all about to be exterminated.”

“Rusty won’t respond to your orders,” said Wilton confidently. “We’ve programmed him only to respond to voice commands from Audrey and me. The only way to override that is—” Wilton looked about on the nearby workbenches for something. “Audrey!” he said. “Do you have…?”

“This?” said Grady, a hideous smile showing his uneven teeth. He slid his hand from the pocket of his lab coat, producing what looked like a television remote control.

“He still won’t obey you,” said Audrey. “We’ve imparted to him something you would never understand—a moral conscience.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Grady. “B-50—kill these intruders.”

He pointed the device at the giant robot sitting on the bench and pressed a button. The head jerked and swiveled around; the red lenses of its camera eyes suddenly lit up.

A hollow, artificial voice sounded from deep within the robot’s chest.

“B-50, fully operational,” it announced.