Available:*
Library | Call Number | Status |
|---|---|---|
Searching... R.H. Stafford Library (Woodbury) | TEEN FICTION KIN | Searching... Unknown |
Bound With These Titles
On Order
Summary
Summary
X-Men meets The Breakfast Club in this darkly humorous adventure
The Vindico are a group of supervillains who have been fighting the League of Heroes for as long as anyone can remember. Realizing they're not as young as they used to be, they devise a plan to kidnap a group of teenagers to take over for them when they retire--after all, how hard can it be to teach a bunch of angsty teens to be evil?
Held captive in a remote mansion, five teens train with their mentors and receive superpowers beyond their wildest dreams. Struggling to uncover the motives of the Vindico, the teens have to trust each other to plot their escape. But they quickly learn that the differences between good and evil are not as black and white as they seem, and they are left wondering whose side they should be fighting on after all . . .
With fast-paced action, punchy dialogue, and sarcastic humor, this high-stakes adventure from a talented new YA voice pulls you in from the first page.
Author Notes
Wesley King lives in suburban Oshawa, Ontario, Canada, where he spends most of his time in imagined universes of superpowered children, dying stars, and dystopian fantasy realms. This is his first novel.
Reviews (5)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Five teens are kidnapped and trained to be supervillains in King's high-concept but one-dimensional debut novel. The titular group of villains wants a new generation of teens to help them fight the League of Heroes, so they kidnap five generally good kids (James, Lana, Hayden, Emily, and Sam). As the teens endure a rigorous training regimen, they confront their own insecurities, faults, and fears; a romance blooms between two of the captives, and a rivalry is sparked. The flaws in the Vindico's plan soon become apparent as the captives challenge the villains' authority and their new mission, resulting in a hasty conclusion. King's characters are reasonably well-drawn; the book's most compelling elements revolve around the reasons why each teen was selected to become a supervillain and the psychological tactics that the Vindico use to make them emotionally vulnerable and susceptible to coercion. But narrative tension is lessened by scant world-building, lackluster dialogue, and conventional plot elements, resulting in an entertaining but predictable story. Ages 12-up. Agents: Brianne Johnson and Susan Cohen, Writers House. (June) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Horn Book Review
The nefarious Vindico are hell-bent on destroying the League of Heroes. Their plan? Kidnap five kids and train them to be the next generation of supervillains. Nabbed in quick succession in the book's first five chapters, the teen (and tween) protgs-to-be aren't exactly thrilled at their fate. Their responses range from terror to bemusement: "What if we don't want to fight the League? They are superheroes, you know; good and just and all that." As it turns out, the kids don't get much of a say in the matter (surprise, surprise). Each is assigned a mentor who oversees his or her superpower training. And this is where things get interesting. One of the teenagers forms a strong bond with her trainer. Another recruit, after learning about the League's history and its mandates concerning natural versus artificial superpowers, begins to question whether the good guys are really so good after all. With the Vindico characters' backstories, King grays the line between good and evil even further. At book's end, King does retreat from some of this thought-provoking ambiguity (spoiler: the protgs ultimately align with the League), but he never loses his knack for humorous -- and teen-friendly -- dialogue, e.g., "If you turn a bunch of kids into supervillains, you can't expect them to follow the rules." tanya d. auger (c) Copyright 2012. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Booklist Review
Here's a debut that will knock middle-grade superhero fans on their butts. In a fresh twist, five ordinary teens are recruited to learn superhuman powers by the villains. Headquartered in a secret lair (naturally), the members of the Vindico are a who's who of big-time baddies: Sliver, Rono, Avaria, Leni, and the Torturer. Each gruff marauder trains one of the reluctant teens in the arts of fighting, mind control, weaponry, and general badness. The internationally beloved League of Heroes, they say, has been lying to the public about the nature of superpowers. The teens a cross section of pranksters, braniacs, shy kids, etc are surprised to find themselves not only believing much of what the Vindico says but enjoying their newly bestowed powers. By minimizing the numbing action scenes so common to this sort of book and focusing instead upon the interplay of the witty, appealing kids, King deepens the reader's experience by turning each character yes, even the Torturer! into more than the typical black-and-white placeholder. A bit messy at times, but kids are going to gobble this up.--Kraus, Daniel Copyright 2010 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
Gr 7 Up-Five seemingly average teens are sent to a sort of supervillain summer camp in King's action-packed debut. James, Hayden, Lana, Emily, and Sam are coerced into joining a villainous group fighting against the League of Heroes. Each one is paired with a villain, and the proteges are surprised to find that they respect and in some cases even admire their "evil" mentors. But once they go on actual missions with the Vindico, seeing firsthand the effects of their actions, the teens start to wonder if they are on the right side. The author skillfully plays around on the good guy/bad guy continuum, showing readers both sides of each camp and blurring the lines between hero and villain. And where many action/adventure novels sacrifice character development for the sake of quick pacing, this is a nonissue for King: his teens are vivid, funny, and relatable, but their growth never comes at the expense of story or plot development. Add in descriptions of cool weaponry and superpowers, a healthy dose of clever one-liners and snappy dialogue, and plenty of chases and explosions, and you've got all the ingredients for a hit series that teens will love. King is definitely an author to watch-let's just hope he uses his literary superpowers for good, not evil.-Sam Bloom, Blue Ash Library, Cincinnati, OH (c) Copyright 2012. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
Four teens and one preteen of disparate backgrounds find themselves forcefully recruited into a league of super-villains in this pallid series opener. They are plucked from lives that range from fairly unsatisfying to downright unpleasant and taken to the secret headquarters of the League of Heroes' sworn enemies, the Vindico. There, the super-villains use a variety of predictable tactics (humiliation, terror, the promise of power) to mold the unlikely kids into protgs. Though each kid has a separate potential superpower, they bond enough, given the bizarre circumstances, to work together against their mentors when one of them is threatened. What could be an enjoyable comic-book romp is fatally hamstrung by the author's regrettable tendency to tell, not show. The third-person narration shifts perspective from kid to kid and occasionally to the villains, a tactic which should develop distinct characters but here does not. With a couple of notable exceptions (a sarcastic-but-charismatic older boy virtually abandoned by his mother and a computer-genius girl reared in an unloving home), the kids' back stories are largely uncompelling. Giving readers access to the thoughts and plots of the super-villains serves to leach rather than build tension, and a credibility-straining series of double-crosses causes the climax to drag rather than thrill. Finally, the super-villains' motive for villainy underwhelms, resulting in huge suspension-of-disbelief problems. For real super-villain fun, skip this and go back to Catherine Jinks' Evil Genius (2007) and sequels. (Adventure. 10-14)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
CHAPTER 1 James tiredly slid his legs off the bed and looked around in disgust. His room was a mess. Half-finished glasses and plates covered his desk and dresser, while clothes were cattered in a tangled layer across the carpet. Crumpled and ripped photographs had been haphazardly thrown on top of the clothing, along with their now-empty frames. Only the walls had escaped the chaos, and they were almost entirely taken up by posters of his favorite League members. Thunderbolt had his arms crossed on the far wall by the closet, looking down on the room in disapproval. James wasn't usually so messy; he'd accumulated all this in the last thirty-two hours. He'd spent thirty-one-and-a-half of those in his bedroom. After digging around for some passably clean clothes, James shuffled into the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he frowned. He focused on his nose in particular, which was small, a bit pointy, and covered with faint freckles. Growing up, his pet name from his mother had been "my little weasel." He'd never found it quite as endearing as she had. James walked into the kitchen and found his two younger sisters sitting at the table. They both looked up, wearing the same patronizing smile. "Still moping about Sara?" Ally asked. "It's only been two days," James said defensively. He went to get himself a piece of plain bread. It was the only thing he'd been able to keep down. Jen snickered. "Kids these days." "I know you like to forget," James said, taking a bite, "but I am your older brother. Older. " Jen put down her spoon. "Did you know this?" she asked Ally, sounding shocked. "Of course," Ally said. "Look how mature he is." James rubbed his forehead in exasperation. He wasn't getting a lot of sympathy from his family, and he somehow doubted it would be any better at school today. "Are you hassling your brother?" their mother asked as she hurried into the kitchen. "Give him a break, please. Jen, put the news on. I just heard something on the radio." She glanced at James. "You're going to want to hear this." Jen got up and turned the TV to the news station. Thunderbolt stood behind a raised podium, looking somewhat old and tired as camera flashes lit up the stage. There were bags under his dark-rimmed eyes. James frowned, his ownproblems forgotten for a moment. Thunderbolt hadn't held a formal news conference in over two years. Thunderbolt leaned forward as someone asked a question. "As I said, the exact details are still unknown. All we can confirm is that Nighthawk is missing and has been for about a week now. We wanted to be absolutely sure before we released this information to the public." James hurried over to the TV. If a League member is missing, he thought, that can only mean one thing. "At this time, we suspect that the Villains may be involved," Thunderbolt said gravely, confirming James's guess. This piece of information elicited a new rush of questions, and Thunderbolt held up his hands. "There's no need to panic. The League, combined with local and federal authorities, has been put on alert." He looked out into the cameras. "As before, we want to stress that the public is not a direct target of these individuals. All of the casualties in the past, including the tragic Night of Ashes, were unfortunate results of attacks on League members. But this time, the League is ready, and we will do everything in our power to ensure that there are no more civilian deaths." There was another flurry of questions, but Thunderbolt just shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "I have no idea why they've returned now." The screen suddenly went black. "Hey," James protested. "I wanted to see . . ." "You're going to be late for school," his mother said, putting the remote back on the table. "I'm sure you'll hearmore about it there. And just to be on the safe side, I want you all inside well before dark tonight." "Maybe we should stay home from school, you know, just to be safe," Jen suggested. Their mother glared at her, and the three of them quickly went upstairs. Messing a little gel into his chestnut hair, James grabbed his backpack and headed out into the cool September morning. He could worry about Nighthawk's disappearance later: there was a more pressing concern on his mind. He had made a fateful decision last night, and it was time to follow through. James walked through the front doors of Cambilsford High, and the whispers started immediately. The story had already spread. He narrowed his eyes and started down the hallway. Everyone watched carefully as he passed, and the whispers grew louder behind him, intermingled with muted laughs. He felt his skin prickling. "James!" He glanced to the right and saw his friend, Dennis, abandoning his still-open locker and hurrying toward him. James didn't slow down. He had to stay focused. "Did you hear the news?" Dennis asked excitedly, almost jogging to keep up. "Yeah," James said. Dennis grinned. "We guessed it, remember? When we saw that footage of the Flame returning to League headquarters alone? We knew that Nighthawk had been with him! Can you slow down?" "No," James replied firmly. "I bet the war's starting up again," Dennis said, grabbing his arm. "The League is going into panic mode, you can tell. Will you stop so we can talk about this?" "I don't have time right now. I have to go." Dennis scowled and pulled him to a stop. "You don't have time for a missing League member? Is this about Sara? You have to get over it! So she cheated on you. And okay, it was with your former best friend. But it happens. She got hotter, and now she thinks she has to date a football player . . ." "I'm marching toward my own impending death," James said quietly, continuing down the hallway. "It's slightly more important." "I hope you don't mean what I think you mean!" Dennis called after him. James spotted Mark at the far end of the hallway, standing with a group of his football teammates. All right James, he told himself. Time to face your destiny. He walked up to Mark, grabbed his arm, and spun him around. James's right hand tightened into a fist, and with a sudden, unexpected movement, he launched a surprise attack at Mark's chin. I'm doing it! James thought excitedly. I'm beating up Mark! Then his knuckles made contact. The punch slid awkwardly off of Mark's broad chin, and pain flared in James's wrist and forearm. To make matters worse, Mark didn't seem the least bit affected. He just smiled calmly, and James knew he was dead. Mark drew back his fist, and James watched in resigned defeat as it sailed toward his left eye. He felt the punch and the floor seemingly at the same time, and everything slipped into darkness. Principal Gorm paced back and forth behind his desk, his round cheeks flushing pink with agitation. "This is the third time you've been beaten up this month, James," he said, wagging a pudgy finger. "I'm not sure I'd consider them all as being 'beaten up' per se," James muttered. He was perched uncomfortably on a stiff metal chair, where he'd been escorted soon after his bleary awakening on the hallway floor. "Were you not in my office last week holding an ice pack to your eye?" James shifted his current ice pack. "Well, that time, sure. But the time before that, I just had a split lip." The principal shook his head. "You need to stop picking fights, James." "He started it!" James protested. "I talked to Mark already," Principal Gorm said. "He says you walked up to him and punched him, spraining your wrist in the process. And then he punched you, and you collapsed like a sack of potatoes." He winced a little. "Those were his words." "You should be a counselor, Mr. Gorm. You're really boosting my spirits. And my wrist is fine. So he's a liar." Principal Gorm sighed. "You can go home for the day and rest up," he said. "Keep the ice on. Tomorrow you have detention." "For getting beaten up?" James asked, outraged. "I'm going to have to sit in the same room as Mark!" The principal hesitated. "Well, no, actually. Mark has a game tomorrow. He won't be able to serve detention." James glared at him. "Maybe I'm busy too." "You don't play any sports." "I almost made the badminton team." "I'll see you at three." James opened his mouth to retort but instead turned and stormed out of the office. He threw open the front doors with his left hand, since he was fairly sure his right one was sprained, and started down the steps. Thankfully, the bell had rung about twenty minutes earlier, and the parking lot was empty. James hurried down the street. He was so upset that he didn't notice the gray van pulling out to follow him. Fifteen minutes later, James crept into the house, slipped off his shoes, and tiptoed up the stairs. "Is that you, James?" his mother called from the kitchen. "No." "Your principal called me about the fight. Are you hurt?" "Only emotionally." "That's good. Well, go lie down. We'll have a family discussion later." "Can't wait!" James shouted, and slammed the door. He stepped over the piles of clothing and collapsed face first on his bed. He spent the rest of the day in that position, getting up only to use the bathroom and nibble on the bread from the turkey sandwich his mom left by the door. The only positive was that he convinced his parents to postpone the "family discussion" until the next morning, claiming dizziness. Finally, after everyone else had gone to bed, he got up and went to brush his teeth. When he finished, James shuffled back to his bedroom but stopped at the door, feeling a breeze. That's odd, he thought. I could have sworn the window was closed. He stepped into the room and flicked on the light. There, standing right in the middle of his bedroom, was the biggest man James had ever seen. He had to be almost seven feet tall and at least four hundred pounds. Enormous arms protruded from his forest-green T-shirt, like two tree trunks. "Hello, James," he said. Then something hard smacked James on the back of his head. "Ow!" he cried, clutching the spot. A bump was already forming underneath his hair. James spun around to see a handsome young man in dress pants and a button-down shirt. He was holding a strip of hard leather and looking somewhat embarrassed. "What did you do that for?" James asked sharply. "I thought that worked?" the younger man said to the giant, ignoring James. "I told you I should have just done it my usual way." The large man folded his arms. "I don't want you screwing with his mind. You just didn't do it right." "Well, it's not the same if I just hit him again." "I agree," James cut in. He knew he should probably be afraid, but he was already feeling a little woozy from the bump on his head. "How about no hitting?" "Fine, I'll do it," the giant said. James turned just in time to see a massive fist heading straight for his already-swollen eye. This really isn't my day, James thought, and once again, there was blackness. Excerpted from The Vindico by Wesley King All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
