“Go!” She pushed the boy again, trying to urge him from the scene before he got hurt.
Unfortunately she’d pushed him too hard and since his attention was focused on the man, he slipped and toppled down the embankment of rocks.
“Oh, crap!” She winced, watching the kid tumble down the jagged cliff end over end. “Sorry!” She called after him.
The boy’s pursuer ignored Jane and took up a post in front of her, aiming the weapon down at his target.
“No!” She stepped forward, trying to grab the weapon from the man but only succeeding in pushing him down the cliff as well.
It was at that moment that she remembered that she was supposed to be evil now and had just foiled someone’s nefarious scheme.
She watched the villainous man roll down the cliff, feeling like he was taking her career with him. She stamped her foot down. “Crap!”
She quickly started to pick her way down the slope, hoping that this situation could still be salvaged somehow. At the bottom of the hill, the boy was pulling himself to his feet, bleeding from a dozen different cuts and looking dazed.
His eyes met hers. “We have to get out of here, miss!” He pointed to the forest. “He’ll be up again in a minute and I need to warn the city of his plans!”
She stood silently at the bottom of the cliff, debating what she should do. “Umm...” She stalled, trying to figure out a plan.
The boy pointed at her. “You’re a Cape, right? Which team are you with?”
Jane pursed her lips in thought, considering her options. “Yeeeeah.” She drew out. “It’s… well,” she made an apologetic face, “it’s complicated.”
It was at that moment that the other man rolled onto his side and fired off his weapon, blasting the boy with an energy ray. The young man was hit full force by the beam and fell to the forest floor in a heap.
Jane stared at the boy’s crumpled body, relieved to see that he was still breathing. The weapon had just stunned him and done no permanent damage.
Beside her, the teenager’s pursuer pulled himself to his feet and Jane got a good look at him.
There wasn’t a Cape alive or dead who didn’t recognize Professor Damascus Thornfield. He was legendary for his cruelty; world-renowned for his evil. Jane had certainly seen him on more than his fair share of news reports and recognized him from a thousand wanted posters she’d seen of him. He wasn’t a handsome man, at least in the traditional sense. His features were too rough for that. Too hard. He was like the stone sculptures on some gothic castle somewhere; they had a beauty in their rigid lines, but could never be called beautiful.
And Jane was glad.
Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking young gentleman, Jane would have stood in this horrible place and questioned him about what in the hell he thought he was doing. Truth be told, she had grown up around aspiring super-heroes, so she spent a great deal of time around handsome men. They filled the halls of Horizons Academy and by now their perfect shining faces were a blur to her. She would have had no difficulty in questioning a handsome and heroic man about his actions, and in doing so, probably lost her position here.
But a villainous-looking man was something else entirely. She had no real-life experience with true evil or the imperfect and fascinating forms it took. Horizons Academy taught her to shun such things as one would avoid fire, lightning, or anything else that is powerful, dangerous and indifferent.
Jane was glad her new employer wasn’t some perfect Adonis.
His dark eyes, angry frown and rough features filled her heart with fear and abject dread.
And it was wonderful.
She was really learning a lot today.
“What the deuce is this about, woman!” Her employer exclaimed, brushing himself off. “If you’re going to fight me, then fight me! If you’re a bystander, then stand by, confound you!” He leveled the weapon at her. “Just what do you think you’re…” The mist surrounding them cleared some and he got a better look at her. He slowly lowered the gun, pushing his dark goggles up onto his forehead. “Who are you?”
“Wait!” She held up her hands. “Wait, wait! I live here!”
He paused to consider that. “You don’t live here, girl.” He said with some degree of confidence.
“I’m your sidekick, sir.”
“You’re no sidekick of mine, I can assure you of that.” He snorted in dismissal. “I believe I would recall hiring you, girl.”
“Well, I answered your newspaper ad.” She tried to explain. “Didn’t you place it?”
“Do I look like someone who places an advertisement looking to hire on sidekicks?” He asked incredulously, and then let the question hang in the air for a moment. “That was undoubtedly Fairfax’s doing. She’s always looking for other people to do her work for her.” He slung his weapon over his shoulder, his eyes running up and down her pristine uniform. “And even if I were looking for help, you are surely no villainess.” He took a step closer to her, paying no attention to her personal space bubble. “You have the smell of a heroine about you, girl.” He leaned down closer to her, his voice smooth and low. “What is your name, Little Cape?”
There was something almost hypnotic about his tone. Everything in her was telling her to run away from him as fast as she possibly could and to never look back. And for some reason, that sheer terror was completely exhilarating. The man was pure evil and was standing so close she could touch his broad chest.
He could do absolutely anything to her in these gloomy woods.
And no one could stop him.
No one but her.
For the first time in her life, she was on her own in the presence of evil and it was up to her to get herself out of it.
Or in this case, convince that evil that it needed her help and that it shouldn’t fire her.
“J-J-Jane Gateshead.” She informed him, bowing her head slightly in a humble greeting, as she’d been taught.
The man didn’t seem impressed by her perfect sidekick manners. “And what is your codename, Jane Gateshead?” His voice always seemed to be louder than you were expecting, as if every word were delivered as either an absolute imperative or whispered at you in horse urgency. “Come on, every hero has to have a codename.” There was the husky whisper again, filled with amusement and self-confidence. “Something silly and easily marketable. Something small enough to fit next to your pretty picture on the magazine cover.”
“… ‘Air’.” She choked out, her voice barely a murmur.
“And just what are you the heir of, Little Cape?”
“The skies?”
“Ah, I see.” He straightened. “You’re one of the flying ones, are you?” He shook his head, starting to make his way towards his fallen quarry. “The ability to fly is of little use to me in my research. Good day, Jane Gateshead.”
“I can do other things, sir.” She protested, following behind him.
He looked amused. “Yes, I’ll bet you can.”
She jolted, imagining the kinds of things he must be thinking. “Not those things.” She stopped in her tracks and shook her head vehemently. “Never those.”
“Which things do you…” Realization dawned on him. “Ah.” He nodded in understanding. “So, our Little Cape was offered a… position with The Honey Badger was she?” He sounded both amused and almost disgusted. “Well, I can’t say I blame you for turning him down.” He put his hands behind his back. “And for the record, I am a villain. I am not a monster.” He started towards the unconscious boy again, the ironic dichotomy of his words versus his actions apparently lost on him. “I am a gruff and inpatient man, Miss Gateshead. I have lived my life expecting people to listen when I am speaking and to follow my directions without question. Do not misconstrue my volume or demeanor though. I assure you, you are perfectly safe here. No one will hurt you in any way while you are under my roof, and the bounds of your employment with me would be strictly of the professional variety.” He turned to face her again. “Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She studied her shoes.
“Is there a reason why you can’t look at me?” He sounded annoyed, his voice once again echoing through the clearing because of his bombastic way of speaking. “Am I really so handsome that you must turn away shyly?”
“No, sir.”
“So you find me unattractive then?” He sounded almost amused again. “Just when I think I understand you, girl, with your hands meekly held at your sides and your sweet little voice trembling, you ignore what you’re obviously supposed to say and instead choose to insult the super-villain by giving him a blunt and entirely honest answer.” He motioned at her to continue. “Go on then. What fault do you find with me, pray? I suppose I have all my limbs and all my features like any other man? Perhaps you object to the shape of my chin?” He tapped the metal plate on his head. “Not a fan of my modifications?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” She tried desperately to get out of this line of questioning. “Please, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Yes, you did.” He assured her calmly. “And as such, you should be answerable for it.” He put one of his boots up on a rock and leaned against his raised knee. “Criticize me, girl. I won’t break. What about me specifically puts you off so?”
“…Nothing, sir.” She tried to quickly explain. “It’s just…”
“So now there’s nothing about me which isn’t handsome and pleasing to your pure eyes?” He let out a sigh of irritation. “Well, it has to be one or the other, Jane Gateshead. Either I’m too handsome to gaze upon or too hideous to endure.” He declared, putting his hands on his hips. “Which is it? I simply cannot take the suspense! Out with it, girl!”
She opened and closed her mouth several times, starting and stopping different sentences. “…I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know how to answer that question.” She finally admitted, continuing to look down at the ground for fear of angering him further.
He was silent for a moment. “Telling me what is so fascinating about your shoes would be an excellent start, Miss Gateshead.” He asked, pointing at her boots as if trying to see what he was missing. “I realize that they are endlessly fascinating, but I typically try to confine myself to only a few moments each day to admire mine.”
“A good sidekick never looks her patron in the eye, sir.” She explained. “It’s disrespectful.”
“Is it now?” He absently adjusted one of the dials on his weapon. “And who told you that?”
“The Horizon Academy, sir.”
“Ah, the last training ground of heroes and fools.” He leaned closer to her, trying to get into her line of sight. “Which one are you, Little Cape? A hero or a fool?”
“Neither, sir.”
“What was that, I didn’t hear you?” He boomed. “Speak up, Jane Gateshead. I’m not a mind-reader.”
“I said: I’m neither a hero nor a fool, sir.”
“So, in other words,” he began to pace back and forth in front of her, “you’re telling me that I’m wrong and that Horizon isn’t home only to those kinds of people?” He snapped the breach of his weapon closed. “Is that what they taught you there? To argue with your potential employer while trying to get hired?”
“No, sir!” She stammered. “They… I mean, I wasn’t…”
“Speak up.” He boomed again. “If there’s one thing in this world I can’t stand, it’s a mumbler. We have no place for faltering or hesitancy here on Skull-Splitter. Speak your mind clearly and be quick about it.”
“Sorry, sir.” She began to nervously straighten the fabric of her uniform. “I will work on my elocution, sir.”
He watched her restlessly twist the fabric in her hands. “Are you so certain you wish to engage in crime, Little Cape? Frankly, I’m not certain you’re cut out for this life.” He leaned closer to her again. “Do you know what your former compatriots will do to you if they catch you?”
“Lock me up in SeaCastle.” She answered immediately. “And there’s no escape from that place.”
“Correct.” He nodded his head. “That place is a pit of fire which no sinner escapes, girl. Do you want to spend your life a captive in that Hell?
“No, sir.”
“So, what is the easiest way for a meek little job-seeker such as yourself to avoid the sad fate which awaits all super-criminals?”
She thought about it for a moment, then looked up at him, meeting his gaze with pure determination. “Never get caught.” She told him flatly.
He watched her silently for a moment. “Ah.” He sounded almost happy about something. “There you are.” A slow smile crossed his face, his dark eyes flashing. “The truth about a person outs, Miss Gateshead. They can cry about it. They can try to hide it. They can pretend to be something else. But the truth will still find its way to the surface eventually.” He busied himself with his weapon again. “How long did you stay with those fools in that place, girl?”
“Ten years, sir.”
“Ten years!?!” His voice echoed through the clearing loud enough to cause Jane to wince and back a step away from him. “You must be tenacious of life, Little Cape. I thought half that time in such a situation would have done in any constitution! Especially one belonging to a frail little girl like yourself.” He met her eyes again. “No wonder you have the look of another world about you. You’ve known more of hell than anyone this side of the grave will ever know, haven’t you, girl?” He nodded. “I marveled where you had got that sort of face. When I came upon you, I thought unaccountably of fairytales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched me like some sort of enchantress.” He nodded in certainty. “It’s fairly common in my line of work, as you can probably imagine.” He paused to consider the matter. “Frankly, I’m not sure yet. Who are your parents?”
“I have none, sir.”
“Nor ever had, I suppose. Do you remember them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He shrugged. “You can take my word for it that it’s much easier when you don’t remember them. It’s easier to stay out than to get out, as the saying goes.” He started to walk around her, as if wanting to get a look from all sides. “But if I’m expected to hire you without any references or familial ties, what assurances do I have that you can even do the job I require? What did they teach you at your nightmarish school, girl? Besides how to hide who you really are, I mean.”
“I foiled a bank robbery on my own last term.” She quickly argued, eager to relate the tale for some reason. “No student has ever been allowed to foil a felony on their own before.”
He stared at her expressionlessly, his intense gaze burning into her.
She fidgeted under his glare. “…Well, there was a supervising Cape there to make sure I didn’t screw up. …Of course.” She shifted to her other foot nervously. “I mean… but that’s just… umm…”
He continued watching her like a bird of prey sighting a wounded rabbit.
She cleared her throat and stood straighter. “But that’s just standard.” Her voice was firm and definite. “It shouldn’t take away from the… accomplishment. My accomplishment.”
He didn’t look at all convinced.
He watched her in silence for another long moment, his face unreadable but looking somewhere between confused, appalled, and fascinated.
She looked down at the ground again.
“You’re a jittery little thing, aren’t you?” He finally declared, tilting his head to the side appraisingly. “So strange and awkward.” He put his hand up to his chin as though sincerely pondering something. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like you before, Jane Gateshead.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“And oh so humble.” He shook his head again, seemingly eternally displeased with her. “There’s no room for meekness here, Little Cape.” He announced. “Maybe they taught you that was the way to get by in the ivory towers of the Freedom Squad, but you’re on Skull-Splitter now.” He pointed at the ground. “This is the
real world, and the real world has no time for penitent and solitary little girls whose feelings are easily hurt.” He smashed his fist into his palm. “It demands villainesses unafraid to get their hands dirty or bloody. It demands assistants who will listen to my orders and follow my directions without mumbling. It demands women with the hearts and the minds and the courage to stand on their own two feet and break the laws of man and God!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you do that, Little Cape?”
“Yes, sir.” She immediately answered. “I will do my job, sir.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “And for God’s sake, look at me when I’m speaking to you or you are speaking to me.” He reached out to redirect her gaze, his large hand far more gentle than she would have guessed. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded, feeling very exposed as she looked into his burning dark eyes. “I can do this.” She assured him.
“Excellent.” He stalked from the scene, then paused. “Your first assignment as my new assistant?” He pointed at his unconscious victim. “Help me drag the Ferral boy back to the castle and lock him up somewhere.”
Her head whipped down to stare at their prisoner. She flipped the teenager over and then pointed at him in amazement. “That’s Wyatt Ferral!” She looked up at her employer again. “We just captured Wyatt Ferral!”
He didn’t look nearly as excited as she was about their victory over the Cape’s golden child. “If you say so, girl.” He snorted in dismissal and started to stalk from the scene once again. “Frankly, all of you heroic types start to look alike after a while.”
Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian Page 54
