Villain (Book 1): Villain 1

by Laddusaw, Cole

  Behind him, Terry, Glenn, and Harold finished putting together the flying craft. Deimos had used the navigation and control components from the crashed drone so that their flying craft could be controlled via the tablet. Glenn grabbed the tablet when Deimos was finished with it and installed it into the dashboard above the egg-shaped standing platform. The three henchmen, along with Professor Paws, stood on the platform as Terry opened the drone software on the tablet. An array of controls and flight options were displayed and Terry hit the ‘Ignite’ button.

  After a brief, tense moment of silence, the fan blades began to spin. Then, the thrusters began to whine in an ever-increasing pitch. Terry looked nervously to Glenn and Harold before sliding his finger upward on one of the control sliders. The aircraft steadily rose into the air and hovered there, perfectly steady. The men cheered and high-fived each other while Professor Paws barked in congratulatory yelps.

  “Hey fellas, mind if I join you?” Deimos called from below them.

  The men looked over the side of the craft to see Deimos standing without the assistance of his hand crutches for the first time in thirty years. He had transformed his leg braces into a pair of reinforced, robotic legs. He crouched, and the microthrusters he had installed powered up. When he jumped, they released a quick burst of exhaust, propelling him upwards onto the open platform of the flying craft.

  The henchmen exploded into cheers. They embraced their beloved boss, weeping tears of joy.

  “Alright, alright. That’s enough,” Deimos insisted. “We only have another two hours and there is still work to do. I have one more thing I need to make.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Crymson Tech headquarters stood directly in the center of Downtown Los Rebeldes. The four main roads of the city all led into a roundabout encircling a courtyard at the base of the tower. Decadent marble fountains and rare foliage adorned the immaculately designed court space. A sleek, black path traveled the circumference of the courtyard and intertwined between small pop-up shops and food courts in an elegant design.

  When Deimos arrived at the courtyard at 7:55 p.m., he was surprised to find it completely empty. This was usually a popular hangout spot on the weekends, with events and giveaways going well into the late hours of the night. He noticed signs posted throughout stating that the courtyard would be closed that night for remodeling. Deimos knew that was simply a cover. It was clear that Hans wanted them to have the place to themselves for their little reunion.

  He looked up. The black and white tower spiraled high above the city. All of the lights in the building were off except for the top floor, which shone brightly in the night like the beacon of a lighthouse. While the majority of Los Rebeldes citizens adored this communal area, Deimos was never a fan. He had always thought that the Crymson Tech tower looked like a giant butt plug, except now he knew that this butt plug had an asshole on the inside instead of the other way around.

  Deimos hobbled to the entrance on his hand crutches. He wanted to hide his new improvements from Hans, which was why he was also wearing baggy cargo pants and had an old pair of leg braces secured over the outside of them. They didn’t fit properly with the added girth that his new robotic legs added, but he was certain that Hans wouldn’t be able to notice.

  Deimos entered the lobby, which was covered in pristinely white marble with undertones of silver and gold streaked throughout. He looked around for Hans but the lobby was vacant.

  “Hello?” Deimos called out. His voice echoed in the chamber-like room back at him.

  An intercom crackled on.

  “Hello, Deimos. I’m glad to see you made it,” Hans said over the intercom. “I sent everyone home so that we could have some privacy. Why don’t you meet me on floor one hundred and fifteen? The elevator is to your right.”

  As he finished speaking, an elevator in a long line of others chimed open at the opposite end of the room. Deimos grumbled as he hobbled the long distance to the elevator. The doors closed behind him and the elevator automatically began to rise. A piano rendition of “Blame It On the Rain” by Milli Vanilli began playing and Deimos let out a long, annoyed sigh. This was exactly the kind of pop music crap he figured Hans would be a fan of.

  Deimos attempted to take his mind off the music and focus on his task at hand. The plan was complex with alternative measures taken into consideration for multiple scenarios, which was exactly the way he liked it. Luck was a dead man’s game, and he wasn’t there to play.

  He turned to look out the elevator window. It climbed higher and higher above the city at a speed that was probably not permitted during normal business hours. From this vantage point, Deimos couldn’t help but be impressed by the fact that Hans was able to clear out the entire building and courtyard in half a day’s notice.

  The elevator slowed to a halt at the floor below the penthouse. It chimed and the doors opened. To Deimos’ surprise, standing before him unarmed and unaccompanied was Hans Goenn. He stood several inches above Deimos with a much more powerful frame. He looked as if he were ready to attend a formal event, wearing a sleek pressed white and silver suit with black leather gloves.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight to behold,” Hans said, chuckling. He looked down at Deimos’ legs. “Jesus. I watched the fight but didn’t think it was this bad. What happened to your legs?”

  “You threw me off a building thirty years ago,” Deimos replied coldly.

  Hans dropped his head back and laughed a deep, hearty laugh.

  “Yeah, we got each other pretty good that night.”

  He raised his right hand and slowly removed the black leather glove. Underneath was a smooth, metallic robotic hand. It glinted in the light as he clenched and unclenched it.

  “I am typically not a fan of the creations that come out of my robotics department,” Hans said. “You might know from my company’s history that I prefer to heal the body through genetic manipulation. However, I am a sentimental man and this seemed a fitting tribute to remember that night by. I thought it was something you might have done.” Hans looked down at Deimos’ leg braces and raised his lip in disgust. “Apparently I was wrong.”

  It took everything in Deimos’ power to not burst out in laughter.

  “But enough about the past. I brought you here to talk about the future. Walk with me, Deimos. Well, as best you can!” Hans said and bellowed another hearty laugh.

  Hans led Deimos down a curved hallway lined with windows on either side. On the right side, the windows revealed the sprawling Los Rebeldes cityscape, while the left showed the interior to one of Hans’ vast research facilities. A fantastic array of high tech lab equipment and computers lined the floor. Tall glass walls separated the interior rooms of the facility, making the entire floor visible from any given angle. Despite the obvious peacocking taking place, Deimos was entirely unimpressed.

  “Where is Siren?” he asked angrily.

  Hans pulled out his cell phone and opened a live feed from one of his security cameras. Deimos saw a dark room with a single light shining in it. Illuminated by the light, bound to a metal chair that was welded into the floor, was Siren. Her collar had been removed and her mouth was taped shut. She was conscious but appeared livid. Deimos hadn’t seen her that mad since the time he left the front door open and they thought he lost Professor Paws. Remembering the choice words Siren chose to scream at him that day, Deimos felt Hans was smart to gag her.

  “She’s in a closet on the third floor,” Hans stated. “You’re free to get her once we’re done. I hope you don’t mind the condition we left her in. My associate you met earlier is the strongest man alive and even he was having a hard time with her.”

  The third-floor closet, Deimos thought. That was all the information he needed. Now Deimos simply needed to distract Hans long enough for his henchmen to carry out the rest of the plan.

  “Yeah. She’s a firecracker, that one,” Deimos said laughing.
“Speaking of your associate, why did you send him to attack us? Couldn’t you have sent a limo or something?”

  “I needed to be sure it was you and that you were still-” Hans looked Deimos up and down, “-capable. At least one of those is true. Plus, I wanted you to see what I’ve been working on in action.”

  The men arrived at a door at the end of the hallway. Hans tapped his robotic hand onto a sensor by the door and it unlocked, swinging inward automatically.

  “Deimos…” Hans said overdramatically as the door opened. “It is my honor to introduce you to Triceratop, the world’s first supervillain.”

  Standing alone inside the dimly lit conference room stood the giant man that attacked Deimos earlier that day. Triceratop was wearing the same black body armor from before except his miniguns had been removed. The horned helmet he wore brushed the ceiling and Deimos couldn’t help but notice a few puncture holes in various places where he must have lifted his head too high. Seeing this massive costumed man in such a professional setting was incredibly amusing to Deimos and he had to fake a cough to cover up an inescapable chortle.

  On a small table near the door, Deimos spotted Siren’s choker. He inched toward it, his eyes trained on Triceratop.

  “What do you mean super?” Deimos asked skeptically, keeping the choker in the corner of his eye.

  “He’s been modified. I mean sure, he was big and strong to begin with, but I souped him up. He’s taller, stronger, faster, more ferocious. He has been genetically modified to take his already impressive features to their most perfect form.”

  This part was unexpected. It wasn’t as if Deimos hadn’t already figured Hans was busy playing God in his little corner of Earth. Hell, half of the blimps over Los Rebeldes had advertisements stating that very fact, but this was something different. This was inhumane. However, Deimos maintained his cool and looked Triceratop up and down.

  “You are aware he tried to kill me and my friends a few hours ago, right?” he asked.

  “I only meant for him to scare you, I assure you. His orders were to hurt, not to kill, but he isn’t the brightest tool in the shed.”

  Deimos couldn’t help but snicker at Hans’ botched rendition of a similar joke he made earlier that day.

  “But that is all fixable,” Hans continued. “And he is only the first.”

  “Wait, are you saying you’re making more of these abominations?” Deimos questioned.

  Hans’ lips curled into a tight, evil smile.

  “Many, many more. All with their own purposes and abilities. Don’t you see? That is what I’ve been doing here, Deimos. Learning, testing, tinkering, all to obtain the most perfect form of each special individual I can find. Crymson Tech’s motto is ‘Creating A Better You.’ The public doesn’t know the extent of it yet, but they will soon enough. With your help.”

  “Why do you need my help?” Deimos asked.

  “I’m building an army,” Hans stated. “An army of supervillains. I want you to help me lead them.”

  Deimos was floored. In his wildest dreams he never could have predicted that this was Hans’ grand design, but looking at all of the pieces now it certainly made sense. The man standing beside him had more power and influence than anyone else in the world. He had access to research and technology not privy to those outside the inner circle of the world’s elite. All of that paired with the fact he commanded the leading company in genetics research began to paint a picture of a villain on the rise.

  “I don’t understand,” Deimos said, buying himself more time. “You killed countless other villains. You tried to kill me. We were enemies.”

  “Enemies? Oh God, no. That was just a job. I hope you don’t think I had any vendetta against you,” Hans said.

  “What? You were hired to kill me? By who?”

  “Oh, who knows anymore. It was the eighties. There was so much nonsense happening it was impossible to keep track of it. But that’s beside the point. When you used your weapon on me that night, I felt such fear that I remembered thinking I would have done anything to make it stop. I saw the true value that villains had. Fear. Fear is the only true master of the universe, and nobody knows fear like villains, right Deimos? You taught me that. So I realized then and there that if I could control the villains, I would control the fear.

  “Aspirations for world domination is a funny thing. I never thought I had it in me, but those next few months killing villains was a total blur. You see, I had to take out the competition if I wanted to start out on the ground floor.”

  Deimos was disgusted. He felt genuine rage beginning to boil inside him.

  “Wow, you missed the whole point of the Villain Movement. Do you really think you can control an entire civilization of people simply on fear? Our society is a bit more complex than that.”

  “Not just fear. Annihilation. It’s the next step you and your companions were never willing to take. Now that villains are nothing more than a fanciful memory, the stage has been set for us to rise up and take the world by storm. Once my supervillains kill a few million people they’ll be viewed as gods, gods that I control and can rent out to the highest bidder until all of the feeble governments of the world have crumbled, leaving only me and those I deem worthy to survive.”

  Deimos stood staring at Hans, utterly dumbfounded. It had become increasingly obvious to him that he was talking to a crazy person. These were the ravings of a madman, unhinged by years of poor decisions surrounded by powerful yes men. He would have felt bad for Hans, but if anyone was actually capable of accomplishing such a plan, it would be him. Despite Hans’ clear lunacy, Deimos needed to find out as much as possible before he left.

  “So these people you’re turning into supervillains, do they want this too? You’ve been saying control quite a lot. What do you mean by that?” Deimos probed.

  “We have our ways of making them cooperate. Look, you need to quit obsessing over the little details and look at the big picture here.”

  Deimos furrowed his brow. It wasn’t going to do him any good. This man was riled up and he was going to continue spouting his new world order bullshit until Deimos started drinking the Kool-Aid.

  “Originally, I wanted Triceratop leading them,” Hans continued. “Simply as a figurehead, of course. I would be making all the decisions from the sidelines. But as soon as I found out you were alive… Deimos don’t you see? Your inventive brilliance used to weaponize my league of supervillains would make us unstoppable! The world would be ours!”

  Deimos had heard enough. There was no convincing someone this far gone. He simply wanted to get the hell out of that building and back into the arms of his wife.

  “No thanks,” Deimos said flatly.

  Hans paused his pontificating and planted himself in front of Deimos.

  “What do you mean, no? You’re a villain. This is what you’ve always wanted and I can give it to you.”

  Deimos hobbled around Hans and headed for the door.

  “You’ve lost it, Hans. You have no idea what villains want. You call yourself one but you’re just a rich thug who wants to bully the world. There are a thousand other losers like you and I want nothing to do with this.”

  Deimos pushed on the door but it wouldn’t budge. Triceratop snarled from the other end of the room, watching Deimos’ movements carefully. Hans walked back to Triceratop and patted him on the shoulder.

  “I must say, I am very sorry to hear that, Deimos. Unfortunately, I can’t allow you to leave. You see, you never really had a choice. I’m afraid you’ve fallen into my trap.”

  Deimos stopped fiddling with the door. Luckily, he was facing the other direction otherwise Hans would have noticed his overt eye roll.

  “So either join me, or I kill your wife and make you join me,” Hans continued.

  Deimos couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. Hans stared at him, puzzled.
He turned to Triceratop and shrugged but Triceratop was incapable of understanding the intricacies of conversation and continued staring forward with a blank expression on his face.

  “Oh man, just mediocre stuff there, Hans,” Deimos said through bouts of laughter.

  Hans’ confusion grew to anger.

  “I’m serious!” he shouted. “I will kill her.”

  “No, no. I know you’re serious, but that’s why it’s so funny,” Deimos sputtered.

  Hans was growing redder by the second.

  “And what, exactly, do you find so funny?” he seethed.

  Deimos wiped away his tears.

  “Well, first off, this isn’t a comic book. You want to kill millions of people to do what exactly? Control the world? Make people worship you? Did you run that idea past anyone? You have a multi-billion dollar company. You already rule the world, dumbass. What you’re talking about is having a god complex. It’s a mental disorder. Maybe get a CAT scan and see if you have a tumor or something.”

  “I… What?” Hans stammered.

  “Second, don’t telegraph your ‘traps’ by telling me to come alone. Jesus, man. I was a villain for seven years. There were toys made of me! You didn’t think I would figure it out and plan ahead?”

  “I will not be spoken to-”

  “And third!” Deimos said, revealing a small microphone hidden under his jacket. “Way to go and reveal your master plan, you dimwit. That’s like, the one thing you’re not supposed to do.”

  Deimos threw down his crutches. He turned and the microthrusters in his robotic legs powered on, burning bright red holes in his cargo pants. He kicked one leg forward with such force that it blasted the door backward off its hinges and into the hallway. His false leg braces shattered and he tore away the smoking cargo pants, revealing his robotic legs. Hans stared, amazed, unable to speak.

  Deimos laughed maniacally. He grabbed Siren’s choker and darted off down the hallway faster than Hans had time to react. Hans finally blinked, regaining his composure, and turned to Triceratop.