Villains Deception

by M. K. Gibson

  The Cybex’s head exploded out the right side of its skull, spraying the captain with hot oil and electro-fluid. The Rathian tried to pull the blade from his hand, but the larger Krellian captain swiped out with a large hand, chopping the Rathian in the throat. In the confusion, the elf-like Plyomar snagged the pill, swallowed it, and jumped away from the table.

  “Ha!”

  Myst walked up and grabbed the Plyomar by his neck and squeezed. “Lucky you. Now, do as you’re told and you’ll live a little longer. Boss, the natives are getting restless from the kerfuffle over here. Are we about done?”

  “Almost,” I said, turning my attention to the captain.

  The tall, demonic-looking Krellian wiped the dead Cybex’s fluid from her face and stared up at me. “Who the fuck are you?”

  I put my fists on the table and leaned over the corpses of her crew. “You stole a child from a starship in Frontiersman space.”

  “What of it? It was just a job.”

  I reached over quickly, grabbed the dying alien by her horn, and slammed her head against the table. “That was my child, you fucking knockoff plot device.”

  “I . . . don’t--” the Captain tried to say, but I pushed her head down harder.

  In moments, her body began to shudder. Because of her general size and composition, the poison took slightly longer to hit her system. But now, she only had seconds left.

  I watched the life leave her eyes. “When you see Y’ollgorath in the Never Realm, tell him the Shadow Master said hello.”

  The captain let out a gasp and she died.

  I stood up and looked back at Myst.

  “That was cold, boss.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled.

  Myst looked back at the cantina full of now incredibly enraged Gunjaar Horde pirates.

  A thought occurred to me and I snapped my fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

  I turned back to the captain’s corpse and used a portion of my limited power to pull her spirit back to her body, if only for a moment. As I did, her body gasped, and she sat up, looking around, confused.

  “Oh, I know this is awkward,” I said, “but do me a favor, will you? Ask Y’olly to look for my cufflinks. I’m pretty sure I lost them at the orgy. They were a gift from Lydia, and it would mean a lot to me if you did.”

  The Krellian looked at me as if I were crazy. But they were really nice cufflinks. I snapped my fingers, releasing my power, and once again the captain fell face down on the table.

  “Now we can go,” I said, then turned around . . .

  . . . only to see the entire cantina pointing weapons at Myst, the Plyomar, and me.

  Huh. Maybe I should’ve let the cufflinks go?

  “Uh . . . boss?” Myst said as she stared down her weapon at the Gunjaar.

  “Well, I’ve always wanted to say this,” I admitted. I reached up to my earpiece. “Sophia, three to beam out. Energize.”

  A swirl of crackling blue energy swirled around the three of us. As we began to teleport away, I couldn’t help but give the remaining Gunjaar two middle fingers and a big shit-eating grin.

  Chapter Fourteen and a Half

  Where The Joke’s on Me and I Ponder Exercise

  Aaaaand we reappeared about thirty feet or so away on the other side of the cantina. The Gunjaar, and all their damn guns, simply turned around.

  “Sophia,” I growled.

  “Apologies, sir. The ship’s . . . system is being temperamental.”

  “Then kick ‘the system’ in the dick a few times and get us out of here.”

  “Wraith Knight’s trying, sir. He’s really laying into it, but he’s not getting any response.”

  “Yeah, considering how often we’ve been doing that, WK might just be stomping a big wad of callus by this point.”

  “Agreed. Oh, sir?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is there still a bar full of aliens with weapons drawn on you?”

  “It’s a cantina, but yes.”

  “Then perhaps you three should run?”

  All the Gunjaar weapons cocked, powered up, and came online all at once, foot-stomping Sophia’s point.

  “You know how I feel about running, Sophia.”

  “I do, sir. But I also know how much you love breathing. According to the binding cosmic law, you technically can’t use your powers against them.”

  “They are going to shoot me,” I said as Myst gave me a sideways glance. “Us. They’ll shoot us. I’m defending myself against lethal aggression.”

  “They are responding to a fight you started.”

  “I didn’t start it.”

  “Myst poisoned the Gunjaar on your orders. Technically, you did, sir. The One’s decree strips the bulk of your power.”

  Well . . . shit. Chalk that mistake up to fatherly worry clouding my thoughts and actions. That aside, the Shadow Master does not “run away.”

  “Boss?” Myst asked, her voice sounding nervous.

  “I’m considering my options.”

  Blaster fire opened up.

  “Ah, crap,” I muttered, ducking out of the way. “Myst, you know my stance on this situation.”

  “I know,” Myst sighed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Where I Drop Knowledge on Running, Exploit a Loophole, and Run into an Acquaintance

  Running. It is no secret how I feel about the subject. Anyone who read my second recorded adventure, Villains Pride, will know my thoughts. But for the newly initiated, let me spell it out for you.

  It’s dumb and you’re dumb for doing it.

  Aside from the damage it does to your body, what does running do for you? Personally, I get my cardiovascular exercise from martial arts and combat training. In that glorious dance, we are taught the value of engagement. It teaches you that despite size and strength, the mind, and the human will, will triumph. Trust me, once you’ve been punched in the face, literally and metaphorically, you learn what you’re made of.

  Running, though? It only teaches you that running away is acceptable.

  But what about reaching your goals, or the runner’s high, you ask? What about the endurance and fortitude one gains from running?

  I tell you this now: complete hogwash. Reaching your goals? What goal, past one foot in front of the other, do you need to accomplish? I learned that at eighteen months old. If you were trying to get somewhere, then you should have driven or flown. I quickly get to my destination and accomplish my goals while you plod along, suffering shin splints and chafed nipples.

  And if it’s a high you’re looking for, then there is an entire pantheon of recreational drugs to try. A couple are even legal.

  But you go on telling yourself that running clears your head and refreshes you. Enjoy watching the world pass you at a snail’s pace. We, the ones who actually accomplish things, will be over here being winners.

  Running, both as a lifestyle and as exercise, is the mindset of those who already plan to retreat.

  But as I was facing an entire cantina full of heavily armed space pirates, retreat was what was required of me. Fortunately, discovering and exploiting loopholes to rules, even my own, is what I do.

  ********

  “I truly appreciate your efforts,” I told Myst. “It is a fundamental principle of mine, you understand.”

  “U-under . . . s-stood . . . boss,” Myst huffed.

  Having shifted into the form of the large, four-armed alien, Myst ran full speed back to the ship with both me and the Plyomar under her arms. I may not be a runner, but there is nothing in the rule book that precludes using your minions to carry you away from danger.

  And yes, we were both facing backwards with our butts leading the way. Not very dignified, I know, but it allowed me to return fire. From my unique perspective, the alien spaceport seemed to blur around me as Myst chewed up ground. Even carrying both of us, she had tremendous speed in this form.

  She must be in the form of this planet’s version of a Kenyan.

  “Sophia,”
I said into my earpiece, “we’ll be approaching the ship in a moment. Please be ready to greet our guests.”

  “Standing by, sir,” she said back.

  Stray plasma blasts shot past us, hitting the various structures of the Oflon Tau spaceport. The Gunjaar Horde were right behind us. Dozens of the garishly garbed sci-fi fucks were running, slithering, and partially galloping on their various leg-like appendages. I returned fire as best I could, but my neck and arms were starting to cramp up from holding them upright.

  One of the Gunjaar with a humanoid torso and a snakelike lower body shot ahead of the pack and attempted to flank us. Leading the scaly prick, I managed to tag him in the shoulder. The creature spun to the side with a painful hiss.

  “Aw, not Haassa,” the Plyomar said. “He owed me credits.”

  “He’ll live,” I snapped back.

  “You know you’re going to die, right?” the alien said as he looked over at me. “This entire port is Gunjaar controlled.”

  “Shut up,” I said, in as dignified a manner as possible for one who was being carried like a sack of potatoes. I fired another couple of blasts into the Horde, but they kept on coming.

  “Will you please shoot back at them?!” I demanded.

  “They’re my clan!” the elfin alien said. “If I shoot at them, I’m dead!’

  “You already shot two of your own crew,” I countered. “I’m sure that’s recorded on some holo-drive somewhere in the cantina. You’re dead already.”

  “Fine,” the Plyomar said. He pulled out his small energy pistol and took half-hearted shots with it at the pursuing horde.

  “Shoot like you mean it!” I scolded the impish Gunjaar. “Or so help me I’ll make sure they know you killed your captain. I bet that comes with a hefty penalty.”

  “But you killed the captain!”

  “It’s called lying,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Duh.”

  The Plyomar sighed and resumed his attack on his former horde-mates with a newfound vigor.

  “I don’t know what the fuss is about,” the alien said. “We took that kid weeks ago.”

  “Weeks?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You said a job we did near Crissus in Frontiersman space? Yeah, that was almost two weeks ago.”

  Oh, damn it. Stupid relative time differential. That meant my poor Evie had been gone for weeks. Anger boiled up inside me. The time I’d spent in the Never Realm hadn’t passed, but everything else had.

  “Oh, crap!” Myst said as we entered an open-air market junction.

  “What--” was all I managed to ask before all three of us were tumbling tits over teakettle. We landed in a painful heap amid the strange bazaar.

  “What happened,” I groaned.

  “That guy,” Myst said, shifting back to her human form.

  Looking over, I saw a strange, large beggar man in ragged clothes. The massive being had his hood up, masking his face. Beside him was an offering plate and a sign that read “Gods Walk Among Us!” Peering past the hood, I saw blue skin.

  “Magnus? Is that you?”

  “You!” Vaanath Magnus said with a gasp. “A god in the form of mortal flesh walks among us! See! Bear witness!”

  “Boss, who is this?” Myst asked.

  “Long story,” I said, pushing myself to my feet, then offering her a hand up. “Good seeing you again, Magnus. How’s it going?”

  “They walk among us! Beings from beyond the veil. Your lives are preordained. Do what thou wilt, for it is already decreed among the stars!”

  “Ah,” I said with a nod, “bat-shit insane street preacher. Well, good luck to you.”

  I turned to Myst. “How far off are they?”

  “They’ll be here any second,” the Plyomar said. “And then we will all die.”

  “Look . . .” I said and paused, realizing I didn’t know the alien’s name.

  “Algren. Algren Yaat.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes?” the alien said.

  “That is, without a doubt, a stupid name,” I declared, then sighed. “But apt for this stupid subgenre. Okay Al, here’s the deal. You’re going to take cover right there behind my pal Magnus. If you move from that spot until I tell you, I will make it my life’s second mission to kill you . . . once I have my daughter back. Do you understand?”

  “Yes?”

  “Good.” I nodded, then inclined my chin for him to move. I heard the screams and roars of the Gunjaar as they closed in. I tapped my earpiece.

  “Sophia.”

  “Here, sir.”

  “We’re not going to make it to the landing platform.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Ran into an old friend. Literally. Long story short, locate on my signal and put Operation Anvil in effect.”

  “You got it, sir. It’ll only take a few minutes. Can you hold out until then?”

  “Is my ace in the hole still in play?”

  “You know it, sir,” Sophia chuckled.

  “Then I think we’ll be fine. But just to be safe, please do hurry.”

  “Already airborne, sir. See you soon,” she said, and the comm-link switched off.

  Myst came to stand next to me. She held her plasma rifle at the ready. “Orders, boss?”

  “Our ride’s on the way,” I said. “Just look intimidating and let me handle it.”

  In moments, the Gunjaar Horde entered the bazaar. As in a kung-fu movie, they came from multiple angles and streets, blocking off all escape routes. They had their weapons drawn and were advancing slowly, positive that they had us cornered.

  A vulpine Doxian stepped up with his over-under dual-barrel thermal grenade launcher aimed at me.

  “Nowhere to go now.”

  I smirked at him and lit a cigarette. “If you’re here to surrender, I accept.”

  The Gunjaar all began to laugh. I smiled with them, continuing to smoke my cigarette.

  “But seriously, I’d surrender if I were you,” I said. “I was bending the rules poisoning that particular group. And yes, your vengeance is earned. But if you press this, it will not work out well for you. Besides, I really have somewhere to be. So what do you chaps say? Let bygones be bygones.”

  “Kill him,” the fox-looking leader said.

  To my side, Myst shifted nervously. “Boss?”

  “Don’t worry.” I smiled. “I have an ace in the hole. They’ll never touch us.”

  The Gunjaar opened fire.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Where I Suffer a Gunshot, Work on My Marriage, and Make It Rain

  Let it be known, one does not earn a name like the Shadow Master without being devious. More so, one must also plan several steps ahead at all times. If you think you have a foolproof plan, then you are doomed to fail. Likely, your “foolproof” plan will go the way all plans go when they first encounter a hiccup or engage the enemy.

  But that’s good news for me. Otherwise you’d be the Shadow Master and I’d be the one reading this craptacular indie book.

  Sucker.

  In all situations, I prefer to have the deck stacked in my favor. Which is why I made sure I had one helluva ace in the hole ready for just such an emergency. And that was why I felt it was okay in that moment to look over at Myst and give her a quick wink of confidence.

  The fox-like Gunjaar’s opening salvo struck me dead in the chest so hard it knocked the cigarette out of my mouth, and me on my ass.

  “Boss!”

  Gods above and below, I hate it when my plans rely on others.

  The bazaar erupted in screams. The open-air market was suddenly a war zone of chaotic weapon fire. Simple traders and merchants, now in a state of panic, ran in every direction. The upside was that we now had a plethora of human shields.

  Hmm . . . alien shields, perhaps? Regardless, the metaphor still stood. The Gunjaar had a difficult time targeting us among the scared-shitless street vendors.

  Myst shifted into the form of a diamond-hard, crystalline Cellibax. Pulling me to partial cover, s
he did her best to shield me with her body.

  I took the moment to reach up and feel at my chest. I was grateful to notice the distinct lack of a hole. I was doubly grateful that my personal energy shield deflector had managed to absorb the impact. I was, however, not overly thrilled that my contingency plan seemed to still be mad at me.

  “Something wrong, love?” I said into my comm-link.

  “Weeks?!” Lydia’s voice seethed. “Evie’s been gone for weeks?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t know that, dear. It was a surprise to me as well.”

  “Still,” Lydia said. “You should have suspected something. Isn’t this your . . . hobby?”

  “Do you mean my job?”

  “Well, that’s what you call it,” Lydia said. “Mostly it seems like you traipse around the multiverse making fun of people and acting smug.”

  “Are you going to help at all, or are you just going to berate me?”

  I looked over Myst’s diamond form to see one of the Gunjaar lurching for me with a jagged, hooked blade in his hand. Just as the purple-skinned alien reached back to stab down at me, his head exploded in spray of bloody brain and pink mist.

  “Both,” Lydia said into my earpiece.

  From high atop one of the spaceport’s buildings, Lydia had found a perch for herself and her Widowmaker Mark VII high-energy sniper rifle.

  It was a gift I gave her to show her how much I cared. What can I say? I’m sentimental like that.

  The Widowmaker fired again and again with a distinct crackling sound. Each blast from the incredibly lethal weapon tore through one of the Gunjaar Horde who was attempting to find and/or kill me.

  As the former leader of a thieves guild known as The Forgotten Bastards, Lydia’s innate martial skills gave her an incredible advantage with accuracy-based weaponry and stealth tactics. For you D&D nerds, she was a Rogue/Assassin. For you non-tabletop RPG folks, she was . . . well, one helluva woman.