Villains Deception

by M. K. Gibson

  How rude. “Sadly, I can’t,” Morakesh said. “My supervisor, Ms. Sophia, left explicit instructions. All acts of assistance had to be approved by her. It is right here in my employee handbook: ‘All actions of assistance regarding the god known as Jackson Blackwell, AKA The Shadow Master, must first be approved by Blackwell Villain Consulting Agency Co-Founder and Executive Assistant, Sophia Rose DeVrille.’ You see, my hands are tied. I respect you, sir, but I cannot break the sacred bond of supervisor and supervisee.”

  “You want me to beg?” he asked.

  “Beg?” Morakesh asked. “No? Not really. And, frankly, isn’t that a little beneath you?”

  “Can you do me one favor?” he asked.

  Morakesh looked around the empty waiting room of the agency and shrugged. “Well, as long as it’s not rendering you aid, I don’t see why not. What do you need?”

  “The prophecy. The one concerning the child of the god who was not meant to be,” Mr. Blackwell said. “It was written in the Fifth Tongue. Language of the djinn.”

  “Oh, you mean the prophecy of the child who can unmake reality?” Morakesh said, his mood brightening. “Of course, I have access to Ms. Sophia’s files on her computer. Lucky for you, I speak fluent Fifth Tongue. You have to, you see, being a Lich and all. People think it’s all about phylacteries and amassing arcane power. In truth, it’s mostly about studying. Back when I was mortal and was seeking to become a lich, I had to scour endless books, scrolls, and tomes. Each one required another language in order to read it. I can’t tell you how many times I had to have three books open, translating a single ancient word from one dead language to another just to understand what was written. In fact--”

  “You mind just cutting to the chase?” Mr. Blackwell asked.

  Morakesh sighed. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Bossy-Pants, for adding a little context to the life of a lich. Okay, here we are. The Coming of a Child Who Can Break The World. Wow, no offense to Ms. Sophia, but this translation is really . . . wrong. She must not have spoken her native language in many years. Give me a moment to clean it up. Hmm . . . change this and this. Fix the accent here. Okay. I’ve got it,” Morkesh said, clearing his throat.

  “There may come a time when a god who was not meant to be will rise to great power. Should that god sire a child through mortal union, the universe shall tremble. The coming god-child could enact a great and terrible change upon all existence. For the child shall have the power over creation. To make or to unmake. Fate will be decided in the presence of The All in the Hall of The None. But a choice of the child’s sire shall also be presented. To break the shackles and free the child of its fate, a decision must be made. To set aside the power taken and walk the world of a mortal once again, or to retain his power and watch the god-child perish along with the weave which holds the universe together.”

  Morakesh scratched at his open nasal cavity. “Wow, heavy stuff. So, if I’m reading this right, you have a choice to make, Mr. Blackwell.”

  “It seems I do,” he said.

  “So what will you decide? Give up your godhood to save your daughter and the universe, or keep it and watch her and all we know unravel? That being said, there’s no guarantee either you or Evie would survive once you gave up your power. And on the other hand, if you kept it, there’s no guarantee that your universe would survive the great unraveling. Man, I don’t envy you.”

  “Fine,” Mr. Blackwell said. “If this is the end, then let it be the end. I don’t care anymore.”

  “Seriously?” Morakesh asked. “You’re really ready to give it all up? Being a god, being powerful . . . being the Shadow Master?”

  “Apparently so,” he said.

  “Well, oddly enough, there is a section in the back of the handbook called Operation: Götterdämmerung. It says: ‘In case of most extreme circumstances, the following protocols are in place to terminate all rights, ownership, and powers thereof for leased Blackwell pocket dimension’. It seems all I have to do is send a quick email to the dimension owner and cancel the lease. Huh . . . that’s stupidly easy and contrived. But . . . there it is in my manual. Do you want me to proceed?”

  “I do,” he said coldly.

  “Well, okay,” Morakesh said. “Aaaaaaand, done. The email is sent. Oh, it looks like it was already received. Oh, you have a reply. Wow, that is amazing response time. I wish my internet provider had such customer service. Okay, the response email reads: ‘While I am saddened that you’ve decided to terminate our arrangement, considering your current circumstances, it is understood. Let it be clear, as you are no longer the proprietor of the dimension, you are NO LONGER a god. However, out of courtesy for your past patronage, you are given one week to vacate the premises and are afforded all powers and abilities to remove your belongings. Anything remaining in said pocket dimension at the end of the week will be considered forfeit and no longer your property. I wish you luck in your future endeavors.’ It’s signed ‘MKG.’ Who is that?”

  “An all-powerful being,” Mr. Blackwell said.

  “Well, what’s done is done, I suppose. I guess I am allowed to help you as you are no longer a god,” Morakesh sighed, tossing the handbook over his shoulder. “So glad I took the time to memorize that.”

  Morakesh looked longingly along the wall, the one with nearly infinite framed pictures of Sophia, each of them reading “Employee of the Month.” Morakesh rubbed a bandaged finger under his sunken eye socket.

  “I was so close,” he sniffed.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Where I Stare Down My Enemies, Open Fire, and Fly

  “Jackson,” Valliar said from within his respective ceremonial circle. The summoned power still maintained each of their makeshift prisons. “You cannot do this.”

  “Watch me,” I said, aiming the gun at him with one hand while I worked on releasing Evie’s bonds.

  “We will come for you,” Dmitrius said.

  “Blow it out your ass, you overgrown hood ornament,” I told the celestial as I undid the last latch.

  My daughter jumped off the table and into my open arm.

  “Daddy!” she said, burying her head into my neck.

  “It’s okay, dear. I’ve got you.”

  I looked down at The One on the stone table. It looked tired. It looked at Evie, then at me with a look of understanding, and dare I say respect, for what I had given up. Robbed of its chance to retreat into oblivion, the supreme being shook his head and vanished.

  “Huh,” I said. “I guess even the most powerful of beings still sulks when it doesn’t get its way. The One took his ball and went home.”

  “Okay, I’ll break,” Y’olly said. “How’d you do it?”

  “Trade secrets,” I said, taking several steps back.

  “I--I feel strange,” Myst said from within the energy barrier. A moment later her form began to shift. In place of my red-haired femme fatale and former minion stood Doris, the slightly plain housewife I’d liberated from the Comic Universe.

  “Hiya Doris,” I said.

  “My power . . . it’s gone.”

  “Oh, oh bravo,” Sophia said, starting a slow clap as she looked from Doris to me. “Well done, Jackson. In a million years, I never would have thought you’d go through with it.”

  “I did what I had to.”

  “What?” Doris asked as she banged against the wall of tangible light. “What did he do?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Y’olly said with a smile. “You really did it, didn’t you?”

  “What?” Doris asked again, this time with a slight quaver in her voice as she looked at her fellow captives.

  My formerly fearless spy was now feeling mortal, standing among gods. That is to say, she was afraid. I too was now a man among the gods. But I was not afraid.

  I was pants-crapping terrified.

  I had no exit strategy. And since I was winging it, I had no idea how long those prisons would hold. But when those shields came down, they’d be releasing five enemies.

  �
�He relinquished his godhood,” Valliar said, answering Doris. “Thus, Evelyn Blackwell is no longer a demi-god, and our plot is over. That is why The One retreated.”

  Sophia smacked herself on the forehead. “Morakesh. You were talking to Morakesh.”

  “Exactly,” I said with a smile.

  “Damn my organizational skills and the need for thorough training materials,” Sophia cursed. “Who would have thought a job qualifications sheet would have been my undoing?”

  I shook my head. “Yeah, whatever. So anyway, when you are all free, I won’t shoot you provided one of you sends Evie and me back to the Prime Universe. After which we all go our separate ways.”

  “No!” Doris screamed. “I was to be the new Shadow Master! I was going to run the new criminal underground. All we had to do as kill one stupid kid and--”

  Doris never finished her statement. The sleek, polished chrome laser gun in my hand had fired off a single pulse. The crimson energy of the weapon’s discharge had ripped a hold through the cylindrical barrier of light and straight through Doris’s forehead, leaving minimal crimson mist through the entry and exit wound. Her eyes went glassy and her body slumped over.

  And in truth, I didn’t pull the trigger. I thought about it, but I didn’t.

  “Call my daughter a stupid kid and see what happens, you bitch,” I heard the fragment of Lydia’s soul say from the weapon.

  Thanks a lot, dear, I mentally sent the gun.

  “What? You know damn well she had to die.”

  True. But now the rest of them know they can break out of their prisons.

  “Well, they were going to find out sooner or later,” Lydia’s soul countered.

  Goddamn it. Even in death she could still press my buttons.

  Valliar was the first to slam his fist against his prison. Dmitrius and Y’olly followed. Sophia, on the other hand, simply crossed her arms and watched me. While the hardened prisons of the other three began to fracture, Sophia just smiled.

  Yeah, that didn’t sit well with me. She was up to something, and I preferred not to be here when it happened. Holstering the Lydia-gun and grabbing Evie tight, I turned and did two of the things I loathed the most.

  I ran. And . . . sigh. I asked for help.

  “Morakesh?” I said, running past the imprisoned deities. “Morakesh, are you there?!”

  “I’m here, Mr. Blackwell,” the lich said. “I was just starting the shutdown process per the manual. I’ve been contacting all your clients and letting them know that the agency will be going on indefinite hiatus.”

  “Shut up!” I yelled. “Look, per the email, I still have power to move my stuff, correct?”

  “As far as I know . . . yes?”

  “Great,” I said as I ran towards the edge of the temple, high atop the mountain. Far below I saw the sloping rock descending into the verdant valley.

  “I need two things. First, the large Baby Bjorn from my bedroom’s storage closet. You should be able to transmat it directly to me.”

  “But you’re in the Nexus Point,” Morakesh said. “How do I send it?”

  “Use the automated system on the executive tablet!” I said, looking over my shoulder as Valliar, Dmitrius, and Y’olly were breaking free.

  “Okay, I have the tablet and your coordinates. Will this work?” Morakesh asked.

  “If I know the entity who leased me the dimension, then his decree should have enough power to bypass The One and send what I need here.”

  “Okay, transmatting.”

  In a swirl of shadow-like energy, the Baby Bjorn appeared beside me.

  “Great,” I said, placing little Evie into it, securing her, then strapping her to my back.

  “We going for a walk, Daddy?” Evie asked.

  “No little one, a ride,” I said. “Okay, good job. Now, send me the contents from my parking garage. Spot SW-E6.”

  “Jackson!” Vallair screamed. “Get back here, you insignificant mortal.”

  “No!” I screamed back with a roll of my eyes. “Why would I do that? Some gods, Evie. I swear.”

  “Okay, I have a lock on you. Ready for transmat, Mr. Blackwell. Spot SW-E6 coming your way.”

  Again, there was a swirl of the shadow energy. As the smoke cleared, a nine-foot-long, sleek black and gold futuristic swoop bike hovered a foot and a half off the ground. A golden skull with an iridescent green smoke background was airbrushed on the front panel, and my name was laser-etched into the side right beside a plaque that read “The Soul Taker.”

  “I know Daddy talks a lot of crap about motorcycle riders, honey,” I told my daughter as I threw one leg over and gripped the steering columns. “And mostly . . . I’m right, as usual. They’re arrogant, dangerous, self-centered dimwits who are one showoff or lane dodge away from having the body of the late Stephen Hawking. Which, naturally, they deserve. Natural selection and all that. Don’t weep for them, honey. They’re nature’s speed bumps.”

  I slammed my hand down on the center console and The Soul Taker hummed to life. The speeder bike had been a gift from me to me when I’d “liberated” it from a sci-fi dimension some time ago. I looked over the edge of the temple and at the sloping mountainside.

  “But in this case, baby girl, the rules don’t apply.”

  “Is this going to work?” Lydia’s spirit sent me from the gun.

  Honestly? Maybe?

  I heard her soul sigh.

  “You die this day, Blackwell!” Dmitrius cried from above, his winged form diving down atop us.

  “Hang on, Evie!” I said, gunning the Taker’s fusion engine.

  The swoop bike responded like an angry hunting cat, waiting to pounce, blasting forward. Gripping the hand brake, I swung the back end around hard and fast in a wide circle. The vehicle slammed into Dmitrius and sent the arrogant celestial flying off the side of the mountain.

  “Next time, don't announce yourself before you strike. Idiot,” I called out.

  Sure, he can fly. But it just felt good.

  A quick look over my shoulder showed that Valliar and Y’olly were coming for us fast. With nowhere else to go, there really was only one way out of the temple.

  Straight down.

  “Remember, little one, Daddy always loves you.”

  “Fly, Daddy! Fly!”

  Yeah, definitely my kid. I gripped the acceleration column hard and we soared off the mountain and into empty air.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Where I Vomit, Get a Lay of the Land, and Prove That I’m Not a Poet

  Pro tip: If you ever find yourself catapulting off the side of an ancient mountain temple and into the great expanse below while fleeing from angry higher beings, then make sure you do it on a hover bike. The on-board gyroscopic stabilizers keep you from listing to one side or the other, while the tracking sensors constantly search for something solid to rappel off of.

  Plus, you look cool doing it. I mean, like really cool. Ambient snow was kicked up in our wake. If there were anime synth-rock music playing, with speed lines whizzing by, and a dramatic freeze frame, then maybe you could look cooler.

  The Soul Taker made contact with the slope of the mountainside with a heavy thud. The swoop bike’s energy shields barely held, keeping us from splatting into burning wreckage. That being said, the undercoating was just ruined.

  No longer being a god meant my senses and reaction time were only human. Inside I wanted to scream in terror, because let’s be frank: This was fucking frightening. But before I screamed like a little kid with a skinned knee, I remembered that one, I was still the Shadow Master, god or not. And two, my daughter was strapped to my back. And as far as she was concerned, I was better than Superman.

  Which I was. Some glowing green rock would never be my undoing.

  I zigged and zagged at breakneck speed, narrowly dodging the mountain’s jutting rock formations and multiple crevasses. Several times I nearly lost control, but pure panic mixed with adrenaline forced my conscious mind into hiding while pure ins
tinct and the need to survive took over. So I simply gunned the engine harder and pressed on.

  Thankfully, The Nexus Point and The Bliss didn’t adhere to the same rules as the Prime Universe. Therefore, there was no need to acclimate to a sudden descent in altitude. Several long minutes went by and The Soul Taker reached the base of the mountain amid a grassy, rolling countryside.

  “Can you believe that shit, baby girl?” I asked my daughter.

  “Aww . . . Daddy said a naughty word.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I did. Just promise me that you’ll grow up better than me, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy. I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  My heart swelled with love and pride. In that moment, I felt invincible. I felt powerful. I--

  I leaned over the side of the swoop bike and puked like a drunk freshman. Apparently while there was no need to worry about the sudden drop in altitude, I still had—yuck—a human biological response to excessive fight-or-flight stress. When my guts were done emptying meals I didn’t even remember eating, I felt myself again.

  “Sorry you had to see that, little one,” I apologized to my daughter. “But to be fair, you’ve puked a lot. And while I may not have cleaned it myself, I do recall Wraith Knight complaining about it. Ah, Wendell. Well, what’s done is done.”

  While I outwardly mocked WK’s death at my hands for his disloyalty, an image came to mind. One where he would pretend to be a horse for Evie. The armored lug had been great with her. And sooner or later, I would have to explain to a child that he was gone.

  And her mother.

  Damn it.

  “Where’s Mommy?” she asked. “I wanna go home, Daddy.”

  “Mommy is . . . away, for now. But we’re going to a different home,” I assured her. “Back to Daddy’s original home. It won’t be the pocket dimension you know, just the mundane Prime Universe. But never fear. Daddy’s obscenely rich and I own many homes. So we’ll manage to get by. Somehow.”

  “Not unless you move now!” Lydia’s soul sent me. “I sense something approaching. Something big.”