“What the hell is happening?” she shouted. “Is everyone okay?”
“Boss is just enjoying his new legs,” Glenn said nonchalantly.
Siren looked around and noticed the smashed plates and cracked tiles on the kitchen floor.
“Jesus, babe. Take it easy.”
“Sorry,” Deimos said, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. “I was only having a bit of fun before I have to go back to being paralyzed all day.”
Siren gave Deimos a weak smile. She kissed him on the cheek, grabbed a napkin, and wiped the lipstick off her face.
“Just stay off my counters,” Siren said as she headed back into the bedroom.
Deimos beamed and sped off doing quick laps around the house. Terry watched him gleefully as Deimos ran past again and again at ever-increasing speeds.
He leaned toward Glenn, “Sure is great seeing the boss like this again, huh?”
Glenn furiously rubbed his napkin over the spilled juice stain on his shirt.
“Oh yeah. A real hoot,” he grumbled.
Terry looked over to Harold sleeping in the living room. They were going to war with the richest man in the country and were bound to have many more sleepless nights. If Harold was already struggling to keep up after one small fight with a genetically modified supervillain, then this was going to be a difficult couple of weeks for him.
Terry whispered to Glenn, “We’re supposed to be out all day looking for recruits, right? Do you think Harold will be okay?”
Glenn tilted his head to peak at Harold. They had been through worse together, but they were all far from their prime and Harold wasn’t in the best shape to begin with.
“I don’t know,” Glenn whispered back. “This might be too much for him.”
“I was too much for your mom!” Harold shouted back from the living room.
Glenn’s face contorted in shock.
“What?” he gasped.
Harold’s face drooped. He buried his head back into his pillow.
“Before the cancer took her,” he continued solemnly
“Quit bringing up my dead mom!” Glenn snapped.
“We’re worried, Harold. That’s all,” Terry interjected. “Are you sure you’re going to be up for this? We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
Harold tossed the pillow off his head. He sat himself up and waved Terry away, turning on the TV.
“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry about me. Shit, I’m barely older than Glenn.”
“If by barely you mean over a decade,” Glenn retorted.
Harold froze. His eyes were fixed on the TV. He pointed at it and motioned for the others to come over, unable to find the words.
“It’s actually almost eleven years,” Glenn continued.
“Shut up, you moron!” Harold shouted finally. “Look at the news!”
Harold turned up the TV and Glenn and Terry rushed beside him. Deimos came to a screeching halt next to the couch and Siren ran in from the bedroom. On the TV was a looping video of Triceratop sprinting down a side street in Los Rebeldes. Siren was clearly visible bouncing on his shoulder, face down and struggling against the supervillain’s grip. The news anchors were discussing the video as it had gone viral the night before, amassing millions of views in a few short hours.
There was speculation on the video’s legitimacy as no security cameras or CCTV had any footage of the event. Yet there were reports pouring into the station by the hundreds of civilians claiming they had seen a beast barreling down back alleys while carrying a woman. Many of those claims stated that whatever it was had been running straight for Crymson Tech headquarters. The anchor reported that the station reached out to Crymson Tech but had not received a response.
Deimos and the others were dumbfounded. The civilians of Los Rebeldes had completely handled their concern of ousting Hans all on their own. They might not even have a fight on their hands if things continued to progress as they were.
“First off, babe, you look fantastic,” Deimos said. “They definitely got your good side.”
“Shut up,” Siren said coyly.
“Secondly, we shouldn’t get our hopes up,” Deimos continued. “I’m sure there is an army of publicists and lawyers ready to cover this up so we need to continue with our plan. Terry, Glenn, Harold, I still want you three out today to see if you can find anyone around from the old days. Start with The Buzzard, at least we know he’s still around, then work your way out from there.”
The henchmen nodded and they set to it. Terry called them a cab so they could pick up their cars they had left at Gizmos the day prior. Meanwhile, Deimos and Siren finished getting ready. Their part in this plan was boring but necessary.
While the henchmen had no problem dropping their other lives for a few days, it was important for Deimos and Siren to keep up appearances for as long as they could. They would be Hans’ top priority. If he was able to handle the PR nightmare Triceratop had given him, then Siren and Deimos needed to close any gaps that would give away their identities at work. With some difficulty, they pushed the events from yesterday into the back of their minds and returned to the mundanities of their everyday lives.
CHAPTER TEN
Hans was seated at his cracked desk with his head in his hands, exhausted and fraying. He had given up on the notion of sleep somewhere between peeing his pants while being electrocuted and receiving a call that his most secret project had gone viral. He thought his connections with the Chief of Police would be enough to keep any security footage of Triceratop from leaking, but he had overlooked the fact that just about everyone in town had a cell phone and Internet access.
It was a stupid mistake, and Hans couldn’t help but think back on what Deimos had said about getting a CAT scan. He had been having issues with his long-term memory outside of his obsessive memory of Deimos. He was also making rash judgments, and of course there were the mood swings. It weighed on Hans’ mind enough that at 2:00 a.m. he ordered his chief scientist Doctor Isaac to come in early to perform a scan on one of their private CT scanners.
While waiting for his results, Hans was devising a plan that would hopefully get him out of this mess. If Deimos really had recordings of him unveiling his master plan, then there was no point in waiting to play defense. He would need to go on the offensive, and soon.
A loud DING jolted Hans’ head up toward his computer. It was another email from a board member. They had been piling up all morning regarding the recent press Crymson Tech had been receiving. Hans turned off his computer. He had a meeting scheduled with the board for later that morning and could deal with them then. In the meantime, he needed to think, and to breathe.
Ahead of Hans, Triceratop was sweeping up the debris from his battle with Deimos. His horn that was damaged in the fight had been mended and coated with graphene. Hans watched him for a brief moment and chuckled quietly to himself. The sight of the eight-foot-tall, muscle-bound supervillain hunched over a tiny broom and sweeping his office instantly boosted his mood.
There was a knock and Hans turned to see Doctor Isaac standing in the open doorway. The scrawny, greasy-haired man was wearing round, wire-framed glasses and a long, red lab coat. Hans had foregone the traditional white lab coats as there was a significant amount of blood involved in Doctor Isaac’s work and it saved money on dry cleaning.
As he entered, Doctor Isaac fiddled with a transparent tablet that was displaying the day’s news.
“Um, sorry to bother you,” Doctor Isaac said.
He cautiously stepped around Triceratop, who snarled menacingly at him, and made his way to Hans’ desk.
“What have you got for me?” Hans asked absentmindedly.
“A few things,” Doctor Isaac replied. “First, I have the results from your scan this morning.”
“And?” Hans pressed.
Doctor Isaac gulped.
“Well, it’s not great, but it’s not terrible either. There is a small tumor located in your frontal lobe. It appears benign, but I would like to run some more tests to see when it developed.”
Hans didn’t react. He continued staring coldly through the spot Doctor Isaac was standing in.
“Sir?” Doctor Isaac continued. “Did you hear me?”
Hans clenched his fist and slammed it down on his desk.
“Yes, I heard you. God dammit! How could you have let this happen? You’re supposed to be the best geneticist in the world and you let me get a tumor? Do you know how embarrassing this would be for me if word got out?”
“I-I’m sorry sir,” Doctor Isaac mumbled. “These things happen. There’s no way to tell when or how without-”
“It’s your job to tell me when and how!” Hans yelled furiously, standing up to tower over his cowering scientist.
Triceratop stopped sweeping and looked up at the two. Doctor Isaac turned to him nervously then looked back at Hans.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Doctor Isaac said. “If you’d like I can remove it later today.”
Hans settled back down into his chair.
“No. No, we have too much to do today,” Hans replied calmly.
He looked off absentmindedly out the broken window and Triceratop returned to his sweeping. Doctor Isaac stared at Hans, befuddled. He didn’t consider this a normal reaction for someone being told they had a brain tumor, but maybe it was normal for Hans. Doctor Isaac had no idea how long it had been since the tumor manifested. Given the location, it could have already severely impacted his cognitive abilities.
After a long, tense moment, Doctor Isaac cleared his throat.
“Another thing, sir. It’s the board. They’ve been in the conference room for almost an hour and are threatening to come up.”
Hans snapped back to reality and squeezed his temples. He could have sworn he had more time. He leaned to the right drawer of his desk and opened it, pulling out a brick-shaped device protruding with wires and silver buttons. It was a powerful timed explosive his chief robotics engineer Doctor Rudolph Vinterberg had whipped up that morning. Even though Doctor Vinterberg was in the middle of another project, he always had time to throw together a quick explosive or two for Hans.
Hans looked at the explosive longingly before slipping it into his jacket pocket. He had hoped he could come up with a better plan before this meeting, but the time seemed to have slipped away from him. He now wondered if that was on purpose. Perhaps he didn’t think of something else because he always wanted it to come to this. As Hans ruminated on that thought, he stood and headed for the door. Triceratop dropped the broom and began to follow him but Hans stopped him.
“Not yet. Finish sweeping this up. When you’re done, head directly to the fifth floor using my private elevator. Do you understand me?”
Triceratop growled angrily and forced a nod. He bent over to pick up the broom and returned to sweeping. Hans exited and headed straight for the elevator.
The entire fifth floor was under construction and devoid of employees. Bare concrete walls and a dusty, unfinished floor led Hans to the only furnished room—a retro-futuristic designed conference room. A sleek, blue marble desk sat in the center of the room surrounded by white chairs. Ahead of it, a round television that seemed paper-thin was mounted against the wall. The entire room itself was encompassed in sparkling glass walls that were completely soundproof, which meant the six angry board members inside were not able to hear Hans approaching.
When Hans opened the door, the board members were heatedly talking around a bar cart located at the rear of the room. They turned and all of their angry expressions fell into embarrassed surprise, that is all except for one. The youngest and best dressed of the group, Harry Kemper, put down his drink and stomped around the table. He immediately shoved his finger in Hans’ face.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kemper shouted angrily. “This is the worst PR nightmare our company has ever seen and you’re nowhere to be found! This is absolutely unacceptable!”
Hans brushed Kemper aside and headed straight for the bar cart. The other board members watched him in silent fury as Hans calmly poured himself a scotch.
“Really? You have nothing to say for yourself?” Kemper raged. “And what is the deal with setting the meeting here, anyway? What’s wrong with the conference room we usually meet at?”
Hans didn’t answer right away. He took a long sip from his drink, eyeing Kemper the entire time. Then, he placed the drink down and sat at the head of the conference table.
“I thought we could use the privacy,” Hans said, leaning back in his chair. “We have some sensitive topics to discuss.”
The other board members obediently took their seats around the conference table. They were undeniably pissed, but unlike the younger, entitled Kemper, they knew how to retain a modicum of professionalism while in a business environment.
Kemper watched the board members in disgust as they compliantly took out their notepads.
“Fine. If you all won’t say it, I will. Hans, we know about your little pet project with the government,” Kemper fumed. “We’ve known for a while, actually, but we didn’t say anything because it kept you quiet and out of the way. But this time you’ve gone too far. That monster we saw plastered all over the news is your responsibility! If you don’t come clean to the public, we’ll vote you out of the company and hang you out for the dogs!”
If Hans was perturbed by Kemper’s comments, he didn’t show it. He kept his cool and took another long sip from his scotch before firmly setting it down.
“What a brutish idiom,” he said finally. “It must be getting pretty serious out there for you to be threatening to kick me out of my own company.”
“Our company,” Kemper hissed. “That’s what you never seem to understand, Hans. We are as much in control as you are. Hell, eighty percent of daily operations are approved through us.”
“True,” Hans replied. “I suppose I’ve been a bit distracted with my, how did you say it, pet project? Funny thing is, Kemper, the government hasn’t been involved in that for years.”
Hans smiled wickedly and shot back the rest of his scotch. Kemper stood at the opposite end of the table, bewildered. He looked to the other board members who were equally confused.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kemper asked.
“I’m talking about what you’re talking about. Project Hercules, right? The government-funded project to create supersoldiers using my gene-altering technology. I’m afraid you have some bad intel because the government hasn’t been involved for quite some time.”
The elevator dinged down the hall. It was followed by a loud, crunching step. Both sounds went completely unheard by the board members due to the soundproof glass. They may have never even noticed that someone else was on the floor with them if it weren’t for one portly board member’s severe aversion to conflict. He had been trying so hard to avoid eye contact with Hans and Kemper that he was staring anywhere but the two arguing men.
The portly board member’s eyes opened wide and his face drained of all color. He pointed shakily toward the elevators, his tongue tied in a jumbled mess in his mouth. The other board members turned and their faces froze as Triceratop’s gargantuan frame lumbered out of the elevator and faced them. He slowly approached the room in methodical, heavy steps.
“Th-th-the monster!” the portly board member stammered in an inadvertent Scooby-Doo impersonation.
He fell backward out of his chair and crawled to the corner of the room. The rest of the board members followed suit, shouting in fear. Several of the members had the acumen to take out their cell phones but found they no longer had service.
Hans turned nonchalantly toward Triceratop as the behemoth slowly opened the door and entered the room.
“Oh, is this who you
were saying was that monster on the news? I guess you all haven’t been formally introduced. Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Triceratop. Or as Kemper so aptly put it, my pet.”
The board members remained frozen in the corner, unmoving. Their eyes were locked on the imposing supervillain standing before them.
Hans cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you all take a seat so we can properly start this meeting?”
Kemper found his voice and marched defiantly toward Hans.
“I won’t do a damn thing until you explain to me what this thing is doing in our building!”
In an instant, Triceratop grabbed Kemper by the back of his neck and slammed his head into the table. He then pushed the woozy board member into one of the chairs. The other members quickly found seats of their own without further coercion. Kemper’s head lolled forward. He spit out a mouthful of blood.
He mumbled through a row of broken teeth, “You fucking dick…”
Hans gasped sarcastically, “Kemper! Watch your language, the meeting has started.”
The portly board member shakily raised his hand and Hans nodded at him. The man glanced between Hans and Triceratop, cautiously clearing his throat.
“Hans, please,” he began. “If you could explain what is going on, I’m sure that we would be more than happy to help you.”
The other board members nodded rapidly, trembling in their seats. Hans looked around at each of them coolly.
“Explain myself?” he asked. “Reveal my master plan? No thanks. I learned my lesson.”
Hans pulled out the explosive device from his pocket and began pressing its buttons in quick succession.
“All you need to know is that this is a very important meeting. Our last meeting, in fact.”
The board members began to panic. One had the courage to try and make a dash for the door but Triceratop was immediately behind him with his hand on his neck. Triceratop yanked the man back with ease and threw him into his chair.
Villain (Book 1): Villain 1 Page 10
