“Don't be racist, Boss,” Diabloman said. “It's getting annoying.”
“I'm not racist!” I snapped. “Just... okay, yeah, Ming the Merciless was a pretty racist. Sorry.”
“The robot also has motion sensors and radar. It's limited by its human pilot, however,” Amanda ignored us, rapidly developing one of the qualities necessary for survival in my group.
“A human pilot, huh? Interesting,” I said. Facts started coming together in interesting and peculiar ways. Okay, I have a plan.”
Everyone was curiously silent.
“Nobody is going to complain?” I asked.
“Your plans have an oddball way of working,” Diabloman replied. “Against all the laws of physics and good sense.”
“I think you're insane, Gary,” Mandy said. “I don't think you're stupid.”
“Yet, you married him,” Cindy pointed out.
“I love lunatics,” Mandy said. “What can I say?”
“That explains why you're here,” Amanda deadpanned, showing there may be hope for her yet.
“Anyway,” I said, “here's what we're going to do...”
Twenty minutes later, when the robot was safely on the other side of the house, the majority of the Douglas family mansion front yard exploded. A colossal wall of fire rose from the ground, illuminating the place for miles.
My distraction had begun.
Chapter Nineteen
Where We Fight a Giant Robot and Try Not to Die
Seconds after the explosion tore through the front gate and most of the Douglas family estate front lawn, a towering column of flame arose from the ground at least twenty-feet-high. Above it I hovered, back-lit by the fire, as I shouted with an exaggerated voice, “Doom is upon you! Beware!”
At the end of the day, all a supervillain has is his capacity for showmanship. Well, in my case, at the end of the day all I have is my capacity showmanship, a magic cape, and a team of extremely talented henchmen. Whatever the case, it would be theatricality that carried the day.
“Holy shit!” One of the skinheads shouted. “It's the Nightwalker!”
“It can't be him! He's dead!” Another exclaimed.
“Tell him that!” A third screamed.
A few of them started firing at my levitating form. Given I was insubstantial, their weapons were utterly useless. I made sure I was visible enough that they were able to see it. Nothing inspires fear like seeing your opponent shrug off your strongest attack.
“Your souls are mine, so speaks the Dark Lord!” I shouted, conjuring a bunch of hailstones to fall down upon them with my ice powers.
Oddly, it was the ice that did it. The skinheads, to the man, panicked and started running in every conceivable direction. The robot was still on the other side of the castle and thus we had plenty of time to rush on in before it arrived.
Levitating downward, I settled down a few feet away from the heat less fires and surveyed the empty area with no small degree of satisfaction. The ground was covered in abandoned guns, melee weapons, and even a rocket launcher.
“I must confess, Angel Eyes, I'm impressed with your skill at illusions. I never would have been able to make a conflagration like that myself.” I looked up at the massive inferno. The fire was still burning brightly, almost like a work of art. I would have been exhausted making something a quarter of its size.
Angel Eyes walked through the wall of flames behind me, treating it as it were no more than a wall of mist. He took a moment to survey the landscape and gave a proud smile. “I still believe we should have killed them all. Still, I admire your theatricality. Aristophanes would be proud.”
Amanda Douglas, having pulled her mask on again, followed Angel Eyes through the harmless flame. “Please, you stole all of that from The Princess Bride.”
“I always steal from the best.”
Cindy, Diabloman, and Mandy passed through the illusionary wall of fire one by one. We'd left the minivan parked outside the estate in case the giant robot decided to smash it to pieces while we were inside.
From its halting, jerky, movements I figured we had at least six or seven minutes until the Automatisch Ubersoldattan finished its rounds about the estate. I'd waited for it to start on its journey away from the mansion and was counting on its sensors not picking up the illusionary fire we created. That gave us time to be cautious in our investigation of the mansion interior.
“Okay,” I said. “Here's my plan. We move to the front door, Amanda and I turn insubstantial, and then we scout ahead. You guys stay on the outside until the robot comes or we give the all-clear. We'll then proceed to—”
“Duck,” Angel Eyes said.
I immediately threw myself on the ground. A glowing blast of red energy sailed over my head and struck the ground behind me. A three-foot-deep crater appeared in the resulting explosion, showering me with charred dirt and burning grass. My face and back stung like hell as my ears rung from the noise.
“Sieg Heil! Das ist ein Überfall!” a deep robotic voice shouted as the Automatisch Ubersoldattan started tromping around from the back of the castle, moving at a far faster speed than I would have thought its blocky legs capable.
Its palm was sticking out and I saw a hole in the center of it, smoking from the blast it shot out at us. Obviously, I'd severely miscalculated the robot's self-awareness and speed.
“God damn World War 2 super-science!” I grit my teeth and looked to the Heavens. “Is there no end to the evils you bring!?”
Mandy tackled me out of the way as a pair of twin rockets fired from the machine's back and landed where I was standing, causing another explosion of dirt and flaming debris.
Mandy slapped me across the face. “This is no time for jokes!”
Her words stung. “Sorry, I don't know how to react to danger unless I'm joking.”
“Running and screaming is good!”
“But that's a joke by itself!”
“Shut up and fight!”
“Eliminieren! Eliminieren!” the robot shouted, waving its arms around wildly.
Angel Eyes began casting something, only to have the robot bat him away like a toddler knocking away a toy. It wouldn't be lethal to the Greek demigod but I suspected it would hurt like hell. Cindy, being the sensible soul that she was, ran like hell for cover and never looked back. Diabloman, brave but foolishly went for the rocket launcher dropped by one of the skinheads. I suspected it wouldn't even put a dent in the machine's reinforced steel hide but admired his courage.
“Gary, this is a pointless distraction,” Cloak said to me.
“Oh really? Cause, I thought it was us trying to stay alive!” I shouted, running alongside Mandy as the robot fired a number of energy blasts at us. I got to repay Mandy back for saving my life seconds later, pushing her out of the way as another energy blast exploded beside us.
“There's no reason this place would be as heavily guarded as it is unless one or more of the Brotherhood's Inner Circle was present here,” Cloak said. “This might even be the location they're summoning Zul-Barbas from. You should dispense with fighting this mindless creature and focus on getting into the mansion.”
The Automatisch Ubersoldattan picked up Amanda Douglas in one of its claw grips, the young woman trying to keep it from crushing her. Diabloman fired his rocket launcher, striking the machine in its shoulder. While it didn't do much damage, the resulting explosion caused smokes and sparks to pour from the spot.
The giant robot turned its head to the damage. “You little shit!”
“That's not a stock German phrase,” I said, wrinkling my brow. “Mandy, are you pondering what I'm pondering?”
“Why you keep joking despite imminent danger of death?” Mandy said, ironically going with my joke.
“No,” I said, trying to think of a response before shouting at Amanda, “Shoot the radar dish!”
Amanda, still held in the robot's claw grip, nodded and threw back her hand like she was pitching a baseball. A second later, a huge bolt of b
lue lightning shot forth and struck the machine's radar dish.
Electricity moved up and down the front of the creature before it lifted its claw grips up and started fumbling backwards, flailing its arms. To my amusement, the Automatisch Ubersoldattan did a semi-decent rendition of ‘The Robot Dance’ before it fell over.
Amanda, having leaped out of its grip as soon as she'd thrown her lightning bolt, cheered and gave a fist pump in the air. “Ten points! My first giant robot! Woo!”
“Yeah, it's a super-heroic milestone.” I walked up beside her. “Hold on, you have lightning powers?”
“Yeah?” Amanda inquired, looking at me. “What's wrong with that?”
“Lightning and super strength is way cooler than fire and ice powers,” I muttered. “Why couldn't I have had all four?”
“Don't be greedy, Gary,” Mandy chastised, taking up position beside me. “So, what do we do now?”
“Wait to talk to someone who might actually know something. It's likely one of the Brotherhood's inner circle if they're trusted enough to have a giant robot and smart enough to know two different languages,” I observed, staring at the ruined robot. “You know, if Amanda's lightning bolt didn't fry him.” It was also possible it was another Amazon and I hoped she was alright. For some reason, I felt sicker having killed them than the myriad cultists back at the stadium.
Amanda winced, the look visible through her mask. “Alight. Let’s crank her open.”
Diabloman and Angel Eyes took up position behind me as Cindy reluctantly crawled from behind an uprooted willow tree. Moments later, the front panel of the Automatisch Ubersoldattan popped open, smoke pouring out of the front. An elderly man stumbled out, well into his sixties, and obviously wearing one of the seven Reaper's Cloaks.
“You... imbeciles!” The Brotherhood of Infamy cultist screamed. “Do you have any idea what you're interfering with?”
His voice sounded familiar and the closer he got, the more I could make out his features. I was gobsmacked when I realized who it was. “No way. Chief Watkins?”
The Chief of Police, Bill Watkins, was a member of the Brotherhood of Infamy? The man supposedly in charge of keeping the city safe from supervillains? It explained a lot, not the least bit including why our city sucked so bad. He’d been willing to let me go after killing the Typewriter, despite the fact I’d been involved in an earlier bank robbery. Watkins probably thought I'd eventually get myself killed fighting the other supervillains in town and that would allow him to recover the Reaper's Cloak I was wearing.
Damn.
“He would have gotten away with it too if not for you meddling kids!” Cindy piped in from the back.
I waved behind me. “Not now, Cindy.”
“I don't believe it.” Cloak was horrified. “I was friends with that man for thirty years. I was friends with his father for almost as long. How could I have been so blind?”
“Save the self-pity for another time.” I stared daggers at the crooked cop. “Does he have any oogie-boogie powers I should worry about?”
“He's wearing the Cloak of the Oracle,” Cloak said, still sounding upset. “It grants the ability to tell the future. You don't have to worry about him turning insubstantial or throwing fireballs like you and Amanda are capable of doing.”
“Good to know,” I replied, gesturing to the man. “Diablo, beat this guy up.”
“As you wish,” Diabloman answered, advancing towards the Chief of Police, his hands extended as if to crush the cultist.
“Wait!” Chief Watkins shouted, raising his hands in surrender. “We can make a deal.”
“Why did I know he would say that?” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“Because criminals tend to be a superstitious cowardly lot?” Amanda said.
“Yeah.” I nodded, before doing a double take. “Hey! Wait a damn minute, we are not!”
Amanda giggled while Mandy grinned.
Chief Watkins took a deep breath. “It's not like I'm insane for joining the Brotherhood. I had very good reasons.”
“I'm pretty sure summoning an eldritch abomination to destroy the world is the very definition of insane.”
“The world is doomed,” Chief Watkins replied, staring at me. His eyes blazed, filled with a hate I couldn't even begin to describe. “Hundreds of people die every year in this city due to supervillains. Men, women, children... especially children. My father waited until I'd seen how people ignore the horrible things supervillains, people like you, do before inducting me into the Brotherhood. My God, have you ever stopped to look at how insane this world is?”
“You mean how supervillains can kill a hundred guys or blow up a city in Florida only to get out on good behavior in a month? How superheroes can never kill people despite facing people objectively worse they'd fight in wartime?” I asked, my voice getting higher with each example. “How the masses are entertained by superhero and supervillain fights despite the fact they're risking hundreds of lives every time they brawl in the middle of downtown?”
“Yes!” the Chief shouted.
“No,” I said. “Not really.”
Chief Watkins looked frustrated but undeterred. “Zul-Barbas will destroy the world by reducing it to chaos, yes, but the ambient magical energy left behind will be greater than anything our world has ever seen. The Nightmaster, our leader, will use the Book of Midnight to harness that energy. We can remake the world overnight! Think about it! No more superheroes, no more supervillains, and the entire world running on the principles of science alone!”
“So, let me get this straight,” Mandy said, staring at him. “You intend to destroy the world with magic… so you can rebuild it with science?”
“Yes!” Chief Watkins hands shook as he spoke. “Not insane science either but the solid earthy kind. We'll have cars that don't fly and space that's an empty void we need gigantic rockets to visit. That's the kind of world we want to build!”
“You, Sir,” I said, pointing at his chest, “are a disgrace to Einstein and Tesla.”
It occurred to me the world he was describing wasn't too different from the one where Tom Terror stored his stuff. It made me wonder if the Brotherhood of Infamy's doppelgangers had succeeded on that world. It was a depressing thought. A world without aliens, magic, or phlebotinum-based technology scarcely bore thinking about.
“So, technically, we could let the world be destroyed and use the book to remake it as something we like?” Cindy interjected, leaning up between Mandy and me. “Like Mercilessland with the city of Cindyopolis?”
“No,” Mandy replied, her voice like steel.
“Mandyopolis?” Cindy suggested.
“No,” I snapped, just as forcibly. “We don't kill kids. Wiping out the entirety of humanity and remaking it with a bunch of new humans is the very opposite of not killing kids. I don't have enough scruples to start violating the few I do.”
“I agree with Merciless... and I never thought I'd be saying that,” Angel Eyes said, even more haughty than usual. “Here, I am a living god. Who knows what sort of reality might be created with such magics or whether it would even work? It's much too risky.”
Cindy gave me a sour look before staring daggers at Mandy. “Fine. I don't even know why I bother anymore.”
“Me either.” I was annoyed. “Weren't you supposed to be a doctor?”
“Yeah, but this pays better,” Cindy answered. “That's what's important.”
“Miss Wakowski's character in two sentences.”
“Tell me about it. Okay, you've got one chance of making this out alive. Is the Book of Midnight still in there? Is the house guarded by anything else? Where is the ritual going to take place? Three questions and you live.”
Chief Watkins took a deep breath. “It's not too late to make a deal, Merciless. Even if you thwart the ritual, this town still needs a Mayor. Both he and Douglas were too stupid to realize the far reaching power of our cult. We could be very good to one another.”
I set Chief W
atkins’ foot on fire with a wave of my mind.
“Ahh!” the Chief screamed.
“I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?” I said, my low and threatening. The number of people the cult had murdered was fresh in my mind. I was a villain, willingly so, but he was a monster. “Answers, now.”
Torture was an imprecise and, frankly, useless means of getting information but I suspected Chief Watkins would try to make a deal with us if he was scared. Intimidation tactics and coercion were viable means to get knowledge.
“Shouldn't you be arguing against that?” Cindy said to Amanda. “Being a superhero and all?”
“He killed my father, so... no.” Amanda looked down.
“I like you,” Cindy said, playing with one of her bunches.
The Chief finally stamped out his foot before saying. “The Book of Midnight is still there. Dick Gleeson and I weren't able to get past Douglas' wards so we set up perimeter around the place rather than relocate the tome. The Nightmaster is doing the ritual from notes the cult made in the past at the top of the Falconcrest City Clock Tower. Dick is a sorcerer and can do all sorts of seriously weird stuff so I don't know what you'll encounter in the mansion. Fine, are you satisfied?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Chief Watkins burst into flame, burning to ashes before my eyes as I concentrated more flame into him than I had anyone else prior. He didn't have time to scream before his body started collapsing onto itself as his bones melted before our eyes, his entire frame becoming nothing more than a fine powder.
With his death, Chief Watkins cloak floated up above his body, apparently seeking out a new wearer. I briefly considered giving the cloak to Mandy, violating my deal with Death but she’d played straight with me and I owed it to do the same. Supervillains may not have ruled, but we had standards.
Or I did, at least.
Grabbing it in mid-air, I focused my will through it and the cloak burst into flame. This flame, however, was a pure white and I felt the cloak disappear into it. Death had claimed one of her seven cloaks back and my deal with her was partially filled. All I had to do now was kill five other people with magical cloaks and a physical god.
The Games of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 2) Page 16
