by C. T. Phipps
“Have you considered speaking real English? Half of what you say is complete gibberish,” Mercury said, apparently not being a fan of Frank Herbert. John’s smile indicated he had read the book, however.
“Only half? I actually am like ten IQ points beneath the minimum threshold to be a super scientist,” I said, simply.
Mercury crossed her arms. “Uh huh.”
“No, seriously,” I said, smiling. I used to have a very high IQ before they raised it to 500 maxima because of all the people making nuclear reactors in their basement. Not naming names, but my daughter. I’m hoping Mindy is a genius like her mom, but I worry about being able to handle two super-genius children. I’m already in debt up to my eyeballs for the time she made a toy Godzilla robot and figured out how to make it life-size. It turns out my villain insurance doesn’t cover acts of childhood whimsy. Quantaman and Quantawoman shouldn’t have published their discoveries online.”
“Size-control is a lot more dangerous power than people think,” John said.
“That’s what she said,” Mercury said, grinning.
John gave her a sideways glance.
“What?” Mercury asked. “It’s both dirty and true.”
I was going to miss these guys. I also made a mental note that after they got everyone through the portal to this world, that we had to shut it down and lock the door behind us. The last thing this world needed was Cthulhu in anything but plushie form. We had local eldritch abominations, thank you very much.
“Yeah, well, I’m going to go talk to Gabrielle and see about getting my kids back,” I said. “There’s plenty of countries with no extradition treaties on the surface I can hide out in. Maybe I can buy myself a castle in Translovakia.”
“Take care, Merciless,” Mercury said, smiling. “You’re not the worst person I ever met.”
“I hope I never have to kill you,” John said, giving me a thumbs up.
I took that as high praise.
Gabrielle walked over to me, still holding the Spear of Odin and smiling brightly. “Good to see you’re enjoying the victory celebration, Gary. Some of the Society of Superheroes want to give you a medal.”
“Not until Chewbacca gets his,” I said, solemnly before pounding my chest with a fist. “Solidarity with my Wookie brothers.”
“Not this again.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Gary, we have something to talk about when this is all done.”
“Good sexy-time talk or breaking-up talk because you need to learn to open with something else if it’s the former.”
Gabrielle smirked. “The former. Mostly I wanted to know how you were holding up. You took a pretty bad beating back there.”
“The only thing injured was my everything,” I said, dissipating my empty cup of cocoa. “How are you holding up?”
“It was a big win and we needed one of those,” Gabrielle said. “Yet it was a win that came after coming perilously close to disaster.”
“A lot of people got very used to your father and the other old guard taking the biggest threats themselves,” I said. “You showed them you can do the same.”
“Thanks.” Gabrielle took a deep breath. “Do you think he’s gone this time? For good I mean?”
I thought about what Odin had said. That Tom Terror was just a fragment of a much greater evil intrinsic to the universe. Somewhere, across reality, he was probably reincarnating as someone who would grow up to be the next monster that threatened the universe. Monstro the Conqueror, Astro the Mind-Star, or Zing the Horrifying.
Knowing this, I decided to lie. “Yes, I absolutely believe he’s gone forever and will never trouble anyone ever again.”
“Good.” Gabrielle took my hand. “Come on.”
Gabrielle brought me to a group of heroes in the center of the room that I recognized as the Society of Superheroes High Council. Which, honestly, was surprisingly pretentious for a group of normally humble heroes. Then again, even Moses Anders referred to himself by the incredibly unsettling title of Ultragod, so maybe every superhero had a bit of the megalomaniac in them.
In this case, the seven members of the High Council were the new Prismatic Commando, Captain Ultra, Guinevere, Aquarius the King of Atlantis, Nightwoman, the Silver Medalist, and Queen Isis the Incredible. They were a garishly dressed collection of heroes and at least one of them (*cough* Captain Ultra *cough*) should have been replaced with Gabrielle. Nevertheless, I was actually grateful to be in front of them as something other than a prisoner.
“Wait, I’m not being arrested again, am I?” I asked.
“Why would they arrest you?” Gabrielle asked.
“Murder, theft, making bad jokes,” Nightwoman said, looking surprisingly comfortable among the gods of Earth’s superheroic Olympus. You know, as opposed to the actual Olympians who the Society of Superheroes had kicked out of this dimension.
I sniffed the air. “My jokes are never bad, except when they are.”
“Are you sure she’s not brainwashed?” Captain Ultra asked, looking at Gabrielle.
Captain Ultra, who was a tall man who looked like Will Smith with a shaved head and beard, kept his arms crossed and looked at me in disapproval. He had the look of a man who had spent twenty-plus years as a sidekick with all the repressed anger that implied. I didn’t like Captain Ultra for a lot of reasons, not the least that he had phased Gabrielle out of the Society of Superheroes. and had called for Supers to be subject to registration. Which, contrary to the O-Men comic books, isn’t bad by itself but is when the government has vocal members wanting to lobotomize or murder Supers.
“Only by love,” Guinevere said.
“The worst kind of brainwashing,” Aquarius said, softly. He looked like a speedo-wearing Conan the Barbarian with gills. Not exactly the best kind of swimmer’s body but the dude moved at Mach 9 so who was I to judge.
“The spirits have a powerful influence over Merciless,” Queen Isis said. She was a woman of mixed African and Egyptian descent. “They swirl around him and protect him even as he sends many of them to their greater destiny. The future is obscure but—”
I raised my hand. “You know that I know you’re from New Jersey, right?”
Queen Isis frowned and dropped the accent. “Do I interrupt your shtick?”
“Fair enough,” I said. “My bad.”
“Thank you,” Isis muttered.
“So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t something stupid like whether I was willing to surrender.
“We’re here to offer you membership in the Society of Superheroes,” Guinevere said, looking into my eyes. “It’s time for you to become a superhero.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AN OFFER I REALLY SHOULD REFUSE
The Society of Superheroes’ offer hung in the air like someone giving a high five, only to be left hanging.
I couldn’t figure out what to say as I looked at the most powerful and well-loved superheroes of the world. They were missing some of their heart and soul thanks to the absence of Ultragod, the Prismatic Commando, and the Nightwalker. Even so, their successors had done a decent job of picking up the slack and were established legends.
I’d never actually disliked the Society of Superheroes or superheroes in general despite my avowed desire to be a supervillain. I hated anti-heroes like Shoot-Em-Up and the Extreme! the same way I hated the religiously hypocritical, but liked guys like Fred Rogers (I didn’t know he was a Presbyterian minister until a Netflix documentary). I mean, you had to be a particularly obnoxious jackass to dislike people who dedicated their lives to helping others. I just couldn’t stand the people who became superheroes because they liked the fame or the violence (or both).
The problem was somewhere along the line I’d become my own antithesis. I was more like Shoot-Em-Up than I was Ultragod. I’d killed a lot of people in my early days as a supervillain and that wasn’t something you could take back. Okay, I was better than Shoot-Em-Up if for no other reason than I wasn’t fond of unde
rage prostitutes, but it sounded more dramatic if I made a comparison between myself and the man I hated most on Earth. I was an anti-hero, not an anti-villain, and the blood on my hands was never going to wash away. Just, you know, a lot of it was Hitler’s and Nazi blood—that I was okay with. Okay, I had a point here somewhere, just give me a second to find it.
Screw it. I looked up at the icons of heroism around me and gave my answer. “I refuse to join any club that would have me a member.”
The High Council looked at me perplexed with Gabrielle looking horrified. The one exception being Guinevere who burst out laughing.
“Excuse me?” Aquarius asked, looking at her strangely.
Guinevere covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s just a Groucho Marx quote. I love him.”
Yeah, a reminder these guys had been around a long time. I liked Guinevere in the same way that I liked dinosaurs. They were pretty awesome, and I sometimes worked with them, but they weren’t people I was particularly friendly with.
Guinevere was an Indian-American woman with long black hair and a body that was simultaneously muscular and beautiful. Guinevere wore leather armor that resembled a rather fashionable suit of plate mail with a skirt. Her body wasn’t her original one but unlike Spellbinder and Mandy, the donor had apparently been willing. It was a superhero thing so, of course, that meant it was insane. This from the man whose undead wife was possessed by the ghost of his henchman’s sister while he dated both the world’s other greatest superheroine and his high school girlfriend.
“You’ve saved the world on multiple occasions, Gary. You’re not as bad as everyone says,” Guinevere said.
“You take that back!” I said, faux-horrified. “That is a very hurtful thing to say to your double fiancé.”
“Double fiancé?” Nightwoman asked.
“We’re engaged again,” Gabrielle said.
“Hopefully with less brainwashing and mind-rape,” I muttered.
“What was that?” Gabrielle asked. “Said the woman with Ultra-Hearing.”
“Just thanking you for the fact I can use this in court to cop an insanity plea,” I said, cheerfully.
“I don’t think you appreciate the magnitude of the offer we’re making,” Aquarius said, staring down at me with deep piercing eyes. The half-Korean superhero was a mountain of muscle and his right arm was living coral from where he’d cut off his hand in order to rescue a group of trapped porpoises. Hardcore. Stupid, but hardcore.
“I know you offered Merciful this exact offer and he royally screwed up the world and my life,” I said.
Gabrielle sighed. “They offered Merciful a position because they thought he was you.”
I wasn’t happy about the fact Gabrielle had clearly reconciled with her adopted family without telling me about it. I should have known since family was a hard drug to kick. It was an addiction that very few people managed to break and only a handful benefited from doing so.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “But, guys, you need to know that I’ve killed a bunch of people. Including a Federal agent this morning and the Chief of Staff an hour ago. I’m radioactive and I don’t mean in the ‘give you superpowers’ sense but the ‘cancerous tumor’ kind.”
“I contacted New Avalon with my powers,” Isis said. “Apparently, an A.I. uploaded massive amounts of evidence against the late Steve Duck. President Trust has retroactively fired him. Also, the late Reginald Smith turns out to have been a P.H.A.N.T.O.M infiltrator all along.”
I blinked then threw my hands in the air. “Whoo hoo! If he was a Nazi, that’s instant protection from legal consequences.”
“How I wish that were true,” Guinevere muttered. She was still fighting a lawsuit about punching bunch a bunch of white supremacists protesting a friend’s funeral.
“Either way, we don’t want you to publicly join,” Aquarius said. “Even if it were possible to clean up your history of things like killing the President.”
“He wasn’t the President. He was, like, annulled,” I corrected. “Also, he was born in the future, so that’s like constitutionally not illegal according to the legal teams of shut up, I’m right and don’t question me on this.”
“Wait, what?” Gabrielle said.
“It’s how my father usually got me to stop asking questions,” I explained. “I fully intend to pass it on to my own hyper-intelligent children.”
“You don’t want Gary to be a public member?” Gabrielle asked, her voice containing just a hint of anger. Which I knew her well enough to know meant she was exceptionally ticked off.
“No,” Aquarius said. “But it’s more complicated than that.”
“You want to offer me membership but not actually anywhere close enough that I might tarnish your image,” I said, getting it. “Thank you, I was worried you guys had lost your minds.”
“Gary, this is a mockery,” Gabrielle said, putting her hands on her hips.
“No, letting me into the Society of Superheroes would be a mockery,” I said. “It’s more insane than that time you tried to get me to watch Eurovision with you and I thought I’d dropped acid.”
“It’s an underrated display of cultural diversity,” Gabrielle said, her voice serious.
“No one believes that, especially not in Europe!” I snapped.
Aquarius, who I believed was probably the person who wanted me here least, cleared his throat. “It’s because we’d like you to go undercover, Gary.”
“Just not with Gabrielle,” Captain Ultra said, sounding both jealous and contemptuous.
Yeah, I really didn’t like that guy.
Gabrielle just rolled her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I think that’s my line, Gabby.”
Guinevere cleared his throat. “After much debate, it’s been pointed out that maybe our policy toward supervillains being completely irredeemable reprobates might have been a premature judgment, if not self-defeating.”
“Is the Eighties retro? If it’s an option, I’d like to be an Eighties retrobate,” I said, starting to hum Huey Lewis’ Back in Time.
“He’s not taking this seriously,” Captain Ultra said. “We should forget this and find a better candidate or abandon the plan altogether.”
“Clever, using reverse-psychology on me to make me want to join,” I said, staring at him.
“We’re not using reverse—”
“Alright, I accept,” I said, frowning. “I’ll also eat my veggies and go to school! That’ll show you.”
Amanda smiled. “Gary, you are the best archnemesis ever.”
“And yet you didn’t invite me to your wedding,” I said, shaking my head. “Really? I could have stolen the best sort of wedding presents. Maybe got you a Devil’s food cake.”
“I expected you to crash it,” Amanda said. “Also, where you go, Cindy follows.”
“Yo!” Cindy said, walking up. “So is Gary done mocking your offer to join the Society of Superheroes?”
“Speak of the Bitch,” Amanda said.
“That doesn’t apply anymore. My werewolfism is cured!” Cindy said, sounding disappointed.
I stared at her. “What?”
“Yeah, it sucks,” Cindy said, frowning. “It feels like one of those gimmicks they throw at characters whose sales are flagging but they can’t actually think of something new. You know like Guinevere loses her powers then becomes a martial artist or the time Gabrielle dated a horse.”
“We’re not fictional characters, Cindy,” I said. “Also, she’s still dating a horse.”
“Hey!” Gabrielle snapped. “That’s private.”
Captain Ultra covered his eyes with one hand and muttered something sexist that made me want to punch him in the face.
“Says the guy who talks to gods who rewrite reality for fun,” Cindy said. “Also, really, Gabby?”
“So,” I interrupted the pair, then turned back to Guinevere then Amanda. “What is it that you want me to do?”
“We want you to remain a supervillain in pu
blic,” Guinevere explained. “You can commit crimes against property but not civilians. Your purpose will be to try to weed out those supervillains who are redeemable from those who are genuinely evil.”
“And then what?” I asked, not sure I believed her.
“You offer them a better opportunity,” Guinevere said. “Provide them options to be more than just killers and thieves. To be inventors, protectors, and eccentrics rather than enemies of the people.”
“A lot of supervillains are that way because they’re friends of the people,” I said. “Because they want to strike back at the system.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s just you,” Cindy said. “Also, the guy with the magnetism powers that Jane says protects Supers.”
“He’s not real,” I said, contemplating their offer. “Hopefully.”
“Just saying money would work for bringing a lot of the quote-unquote bad guys over,” Cindy said. “At the end of the day, we all agree that it’s really just about fame and fortune and our superiority over the little people. Heroes and villains both.”
“No, we don’t,” Amanda said.
Captain Ultra at least looked guilty.
Guinevere just looked tired. “There’s something else.”
Gabrielle looked down. “I was also hoping you’d become the protector of Atlas City.”
Captain Ultra looked revolted by the prospect.
I tried to process that but couldn’t. “You want me to become protector of Ultragod’s city?”
Guinevere nodded. “Falconcrest City’s crime rate and supervillains are under control and we’re negotiating for a repeal of the laws against superheroism in the United States. However, you don’t have to worry about that as an outlaw.”
“Outlawwwwww!” Cindy said, making an air guitar gesture. “Sounds so much better than criminal.”
It was a ridiculous offer, even if it had been made to someone besides me. Atlas City was one of the largest cities in America, the New Angeles of the South, and a metropolis intrinsically linked to superheroism. It was also vital to the American economy as it was one of the few places with regular traffic to outer space as well as tech companies researching bleeding-edge super-science. Plenty of Supers who didn’t want to be superheroes or villains fled to the city to enjoy its more tolerant accepting atmosphere. Atlas City was also a place riddled with crime thanks to the proliferation of Black Market supertech and the fact it had been subject to near-constant terror attacks by, well, Tom Terror.
