The Supervillainy Saga (Book 7): The Horror of Supervillainy

by Phipps, C. T.

  “Daddy!” Missy shouted, ripping the door off the Blue Meanie to get at Jane. “I’ll kill her for that, you hooded freak!”

  I threw Jane an ice gun that had belonged to Mrs. Chillingsworth and which would fit easily into the palm of her hand. She caught it and fired a glowing white beam right into the face of Missy. The evil deputy’s head was encased in a huge block off ice before cracking to pieces, decapitating the alien being.

  “I thought ice beams disabled people, not killed them!” Jane said, shocked.

  “Who told you that?” I asked, dodging out of the way of an enormous kick from Sheriff Injustice that smashed through the side of the Blue Meanie. It was a shame that my classic car was taking such a severe beating, especially since it was technically Cindy’s, but at least it was dying for a good cause.

  Missy’s human form, meanwhile, warped to reveal the gross purple abomination underneath. A huge gapping maw with dozens of spike-like teeth, all of them the size of steak knives, was in the center of its chest with three long tongues licking inside. Hideous tentacles burst out of the sides of her body and red eyes blinked across her limbs. She looked like an anime version of The Thing crossed with Hellsing’s Alucard in his monster form. Seriously, if you haven’t seen either of those then you definitely should.

  “What the hell?” Jane shouted, aiming her ice gun again only for a tentacle to knock it out of her hand. “I just blew off her head!”

  “Undifferentiated nervous system!” David said, sitting in the backseat without a care in the world. “Pretty standard for a Purple Venusian.”

  “Why are aliens so much stronger than us humans!” Jane said, jumping out of the car as another tentacle impaled the front seat.

  “Speak for yourself, monkey girl,” David said, slipping out and into the sky. “Or is that deer monkey girl. Also, that comment is inherently prejudicial.”

  “Shut up!” Jane said, backflipping like a cheerleader to grab the weapon and use it again.

  Unfortunately, I was back to getting my ass kicked. Sheriff Injustice grabbed me by the arm and gave it a squeeze, shattering bone inside it as well as marking me with his power. I could feel him start to drain away my life-force rather than my magic. It was like burning from the inside out, every organ in my body seizing up with nightmarish pain.

  “You are yummier than a BBQ on Saturday night,” Sheriff Injustice said, tightening his grip. “I’ve got to admit, I went easy on the first time you came to my hollow. You thought you could kick me out and rescue them trespassers that were stirring up trouble with their ‘Supers Are People Too’ and other nonsense. I coulda killed ya then—came close, too—but I let you live.”

  I remembered the horrifying failure that had been my last attempt to come to Satan’s Hollow. It had been my first and only attempt to be a hero on my own as well as a miserable failure. A group of protestors against the treatment of Supers had come down to try to bring attention to the human rights violations happening just outside of Falconcrest City.

  They’d vanished almost as soon as they’d arrived, their phones going offline, and their families had hired me to investigate. Not only had Sheriff Injustice kicked my ass but he cleaned up every bit of evidence that might have proven his culpability. He’d gotten away with murder and I’d been left humiliated and unsure of myself. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  “You didn’t let me do anything,” I said, trying to figure out what gadget to use next. The pain was excruciating, and I could barely move. “I survived on my own.”

  Experience was the best weapon any superhero or villain had during combat. Every second’s hesitation and decision cost you against a more seasoned opponent and allowed them to get their own hits in. It was the only reason why super-speedsters ever lost battles. They were very often faster than thought and that made them vulnerable.

  “I let you live because your power is so damn tasty,” Sheriff Injustice grunted, his breath smelling rancid and with just a hint of sulfur. “You came in here and I became stronger than any hero other than Ultragod or the Nightwalker. They were scared of me, scared of what I might become, and you made me reach my full potential. I think I’m going to run for governor, boy, and start my own super team. The White Knights. Maybe I’ll start their career off by burning you on a cross.”

  Okay, I had one advantage in the fact that Sheriff Injustice was a talker. That gave me time to reach down to my belt, pull out the Weather Witch’s wand, and lift it up into the air. “Do you have any personality other than being a racist stereotype? I remind you we’re not even in the frigging South, Nordbert.”

  The skies over Satan’s Hollow were always covered in storm clouds, even during advanced global warming before Doctor Aeon fixed that, and the wand called down a bolt of lightning that struck the deranged alien in the face. He cried out again and I kept summoning down bolts onto him. A second struck him, a third, a fourth, and then a fifth before the wand lost its charge. Electricity was one of the few ways to harm regular Blue and Red Venusians, so I was lucky the same rules applied to Sheriff Injustice.

  Even so, the guy mostly just staggered back and dropped his human form. Like his daughter, the result looked like something H.P. Lovecraft would have come up with during one of his fevered, xenophobia-driven dreams. Unlike his daughter, it was still mostly humanoid in shape with his tentacles wrapped together and twisted into limbs. I’d managed to injure the monster, but it was still too powerful to defeat. I was also rapidly running out of tricks in my utility belt and wished I’d packed it with more miniature nukes and less Nightwalker shark repellent.

  “Alright,” the monstrous mouth in Sheriff Injustice’s chest spoke, his voice guttural as well as nightmarish. “Now you’ve officially pissed me off.”

  Sheriff Injustice unfurled one of his arms at me and it wrapped around me chest like a whip before hurling me through the air. I was already in tremendous pain from the beating he’d given me and that only increased as I landed, rolling around in the mud. My weather manipulation triggered a full-on storm that soon left me drenched. He could have easily taken my head clean off but, apparently, he had something special planned.

  I took a moment to check on Jane and saw she was still managing to stay ahead of Missy’s attacks like a champ. She moved around like Chun Li during the original Street Fighter 2, bouncing against trees and moving with dance-like motions even as she continued to fire her ice beam whenever possible. Unfortunately, while Missy was now missing a few pieces, she was nowhere near defeated.

  I considered my options and wondered if retreat was still even a possibility. The only place to flee was Satan’s Swamp and I didn’t put my chances of escape very good. I also wouldn’t abandon Jane, yet, which was impressive. Aside from my family, there weren’t that many individuals for whom I would give my life. Risk? Hell yes. I risked my life for fun three times a day. Give up? That was a different matter entirely. There were Cindy, Mandy (which made her absence all the worse), my daughters, Kerri, and Diabloman. Gabrielle was sort of a non-issue since she’d once survived a nuclear missile. It only left her head ringing for days. Now the number of people I was willing to die for apparently included Jane. Which was a shame because after I died, she’d be next.

  “Too scared to keep fighting me, huh?” I said, slowly crawling to my feet. “Well, I’m willing to accept your surrender.”

  That was when I heard four growling noises behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw the four alligators were gathered behind me in their war forms. Each of them was an enormous lizard man with armored skin and massive jaws capable of biting someone’s arm clean off. Their eyes were feral, and devoid of conscience, having been raised as nothing more than Sheriff Injustice’s attack animals.

  Oh yeah, those guys.

  “I’m tired of beating on the Jew. Do with him what you will,” Sheriff Injustice said, slowly regrowing his skin which was apparently part of his transformation. Unlike other shapeshifters, his clothes didn’t seem to be a part o
f the package and he was now a huge, naked redneck. I had to admit, his idea of Earth equipment was severely exaggerated, or he’d procreated with a giantess. Remember, bigger isn’t necessarily better. It’s better to find compatible partners. Oops, that was a bit of a diversion wasn’t it? Sorry, I was just preoccupied with my imminent demise.

  “Have you guys considered learning martial arts?” I asked, turning around. “I know the Adolescent Viking Battle Boars and they would happily take you under their wing. I mean, their name’s not accurate anymore since they’re all in their fifties but they’re Cindy’s frenemies. She tried to blow their houses down for some reason.”

  All four of the weregators descended on me at once and I would have been torn to bits if not for the fact the largest of them had an arrow shot into its throat. That would normally not stop a rampaging werebeast—no offense, Jane—but this particular arrow was glowing with unnatural white energy that caused him to burn away as if he was an exorcised ghost. The remaining three weregators instantly stopped in their tracks. That was when I heard the powering up of a chainsaw.

  Turning, I saw two figures coming out of the other side of the swamp that commanded my attention despite the fact I was surrounded by a bunch of mutant lizard men and two racist aliens. Wait, were crocodiles lizards? I needed to look that up on my cellphone after this.

  The first of the newcomers was a beautiful thirty-something Eurasian woman with her hair in a ponytail, wearing not so much a superhero uniform as leather pants with a tank top. A pair of goggles rested around her neck but that was the only concession to anything resembling a costume. In her hands was a bow and arrow that I recognized radiated the holy Ultra-Force energy of an Artemis. They were a cult of warrior women that had been blessed by the gods to hunt demons and serial killers. Guinevere had been part of their Celtic branch and was technically their leader on my Earth. A halberd was resting on her back, humming with an equal amount of holy energy, and I gave her props for it. The poleax an underrated weapon.

  The second figure was about six-foot-three, wearing a hockey mask, and carrying a chainsaw that radiated unholy magic of a kind that I recognized as like my own Nega-Force. Rather than dress like Jason Voorhees or Michael Meyers in practical overalls, though, the guy was dressed like an accountant at a particularly high-end firm. His suit wasn’t new either, with numerous blood stains just barely visible alongside the sides. There was something cold and soulless about him that made me think he was every bit as empowered by Death as I was. A cute little Halloween pin was resting on his lapel and I swore the thing grinned at me.

  David rested on a nearby branch next to them. “Hey, I brought help! You wouldn’t believe the kind of weirdos you’ll find out here. This is the Accountant and the Final Girl. I’d have called the cops but when has that helped anyone?”

  Sheriff Injustice, naked and glaring, stared at them. “You two have just opened yourself a serious can of whoopass. You’re going to feed my daughter and me for a long time.”

  Realizing that more magic wasn’t going to help our situation, I tried to warn the two superheroes (?) I wasn’t familiar with. “Get the hell out of here! You don’t know what you’re facing here.”

  Sheriff Injustice charged at them, only to have the Accountant bring down his chainsaw into the crooked cop’s body. The weapon went through all of Sheriff Injustice’s defenses and purple gore went flying in every direction. Jane and Missy stopped their fight mid-step to look on in shock while the weregators fled in terror.

  Huh, that was unexpected.

  Chapter Nine

  Psycho Killers in Love

  “Have you ever fought anyone who could actually fight back?” The Accountant asked, his voice dry and patient. It was the kind of voice that would have made him the world’s most terrifying math teacher or school principal.

  “Argh!” Sheriff Injustice shouted, pulling back and flailing his tentacles in every direction.

  “Daddy!” Missy shouted. It was kind of funny hearing that from the monstrous creature form she currently had.

  The Final Girl aimed her bow and arrow before firing into Missy’s arm, sending her spiraling backwards. The holy arrow seemed to be yet another thing they were unable to absorb and bought us valuable breathing room. Mind you, it felt like they were cheating because their magic worked and mine didn’t, but I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Well, mostly.

  I felt my magic return to me as the pair stopped draining my power away. Even then, I didn’t feel strong enough to cure my injuries. It was more like I was no longer being actively bled dry. I was still running on magical empty and if I tried to conjure fire, I probably wouldn’t have been able to light a cigarette. There was also the fact that I had multiple broken bones and probably looked like I’d aged a few years.

  “You are guilty of countless murders, Xanda’gar of Venus. You have absorbed the ideology of a failed state and passed that horror onto your children. Death is the only punishment you deserve,” the Accountant said, continuing to attack him with his chainsaw.

  Sheriff Injustice screamed. “That is not my name!”

  The corrupt hick wrestled the chainsaw from the Accountant before hurling it into the nearby swamp. He then began to grapple with him. That was when, much to my surprise, the Accountant managed to start pounding the guy left and right. Sheriff Injustice’s blows were clumsy and frenzied, which made me think the newcomer’s assessment of his previous fights were correct. Bullies preferred prey that didn’t fight back. They didn’t enjoy battles, they enjoyed slaughter that they called victory.

  The newcomers weren’t fans of fair fights themselves as Final Girl shot another arrow into the side of Missy before drawing her halberd and hacking into Sheriff Injustice’s back. I felt bad about not being able to join in the fight but moving to engage, I ended up stumbling on the ground before landing face first in the mud. Not my finest hour, this.

  “I’ll save you, Daddy!” Missy shouted, severely injured and yet still flinging herself with her tentacles out at the Accountant.

  “You do that,” Sheriff Injustice muttered before using his tentacles to grab some trees and flinging himself away. I should not have been surprised that Nordbert was cowardly enough to abandon his own daughter, but he was. You’d think even a racist ignorant asshole like him would have at least one redeeming quality, but apparently not.

  Final Girl stepped in front of the Accountant, a glowing white nimbus appearing around her as well as her halberd. She swung the weapon faster than Missy could move and then cleaved the sheriff’s deputy in half. Missy let forth an ear-piercing, unearthly scream as her entire body was consumed in witch fire. The only remnant of her body remaining being a few disgusting leach-like parts that inched along the ground. One of them crawled up the side of my leg before stabbing me in the leg, burrowing in.

  “Bork!” I shouted, slapping my hand down on the injury and burning it inside and out. It took every bit of my remaining magic, but I fried the sucker. It did, however, cause me to fall to the ground again after I’d worked so hard to stand. All of my body tensed up and I found myself unable to move. “Oil can. Oil can. Anyone got some oil for a man without a heart?”

  “Please, you’re obviously the Scarecrow,” Jane muttered, walking over and helping me up with one hand. “Though, I kind of wish Emma was here to be Toto now.”

  David flew over to the remnants of my destroyed car and set himself up on the rear fender. “I think recent events have proven that I am the most valuable player on this team. I think we should renegotiate my contract.”

  “I work for you! You hired me!” I snapped, spitting out some mud and feeling like my blood was on fire. I wasn’t sure if I’d gotten that last parasite out in time before it had poisoned me. It turned out, despite what Star Trek taught me, alien and human biology tended to be incompatible.

  The Accountant walked over to me. “You have killed hundreds of people, Gary Karkofsky. There is much blood on your hands. Most people you have
slain were the guilty and irredeemable, but some innocents have lost their lives because of your choices. You have misused your gifts as well, using them for selfish gain when you could have helped others. Vengeance must be satisfied.”

  I looked up to him. “And who the hell are you? The Ghost of Christmas yet to Come?”

  The Accountant reached down and put his palm on my forehead. In an instant I felt my agonizing pain become worse. I felt a dark presence enter into my brain and a series of images flashed through my brain: killing Shoot-Em-Up, my failed attempt at robbing a second bank that got a bunch of people killed by the Extreme, my failure to save Mandy, my use of dark magic to bring her back as a vampire, my attempt to give her back her soul, and killing my doppelganger Merciful within a few yards of his restored family. Finally, there was my wish after the Primal Tournament to end the revolving door of life and death on my world. Every day I hated the consequences of that decision more and more.

  Why couldn’t people come back from the dead? Yes, it led to constant never-ending fights between superheroes and villains, but who the hell cared? The world was better off with more heroes and fewer monsters. Why did it have to be both at the same time? Maybe it meant the world was wrecked every other week, but we could rebuild, goddammit! I couldn’t help but think of the people I’d lost and now would never see again. What kind of world was I leaving to my children that it was growing a little less wondrous and magical every day?

  The Accountant pulled his hand away from my head, no expression on his face. “There is nothing I could do to you that you are not already doing to yourself.”

  “William!” Jane said. “Nancy! What the hell are you two doing to my friend?”

  “Jane Doe the Weredeer?” Final Girl, apparently named Nancy (because of course she was), asked.

  “I was testing his soul with the Mark of Cain,” William said. “It is my purpose to judge the guilty.”