The Games of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 2)

by Phipps, C. T.

  “I have a new found respect for field hands in the Middle Ages,” I said, huffing and puffing.

  “Perhaps you should take a breather,” Cloak said. “After the world is saved, provided you don't bungle it, I also suggest you exercise more.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You and my mother.” Making a time-out gesture, I started walking past the ghosts in line toward the front door. “Five minute break time, people. Better let in everyone before they think I've been eaten alive by ghouls.”

  “Ghouls don't eat live meat,” Cloak said. “They first have to kill you.”

  “What an interesting fact.” I was surprised to realize there were over eighteen locks built into the side of the door. There was also a wooden board barricading the entrance. I hadn't noticed any of this earlier, which told me I was probably the single most unobservant human alive.

  “I would agree with that. What with you taking a break from trying to save the world to deal with a bunch of restless spirits.”

  “Yeah,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “I'm sorry. It's too easy to get distracted by dead children and all. I'll try and avoid it in the future.”

  “Was that sarcasm?”

  “You better hope it was.” I started turning the locks one by one. “How could you found a group like this? They've killed kids, kids. Plus, the whole end of the world thing. You were a lot cooler before I learned about this whole idiotic cult connection you have.”

  “Founding the Brotherhood of Infamy made sense at the time,” Cloak said. “World War 2, the Depression, and the rise of communism—”

  “That's crap and you know it,” I said, finding a combination lock. Freezing it off, I moved on. “Tell me about the real reason.”

  “You know the reason,” Cloak said, its voice losing its usual echoing quality. “Loss.”

  It was common knowledge Lancel Warren had lost his family in a gangland shooting. The event had inspired his brother to become the city's Santa Claus for close to a century due to the tragedy. I knew you didn't turn to selflessness and compassion after events like that. There was a period of anger and hatred as a result, a questioning of ‘why me?’ For some, namely myself, it never ended.

  “Yeah, but tell me anyway,” I replied, reaching the halfway mark with the locks. “I need something to pass the time and Amanda looks preoccupied.”

  I stuck my thumb over my shoulder towards Amanda and her mother. They were talking to the left of the hall, engrossed in a conversation I couldn't hear. A part of me envied her, the opportunity to talk with lost loved ones was one I'd come to appreciate and wish I could do again and again.

  I think we all would like that.

  “Alright,” Cloak, no Lancel Warren, said. “I'll tell you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I mean that.”

  I needed to know what was motivating these psychos. If I did, I had a chance of getting into their head. With that knowledge, I might be able to manipulate them into doing something stupid so I could kill them easier.

  Being an evil mastermind was easier than it looked.

  “Everything lost its meaning after my wife and child died. I lost my faith in God, the goodness of man, and myself. I sought some way to contact my wife and child beyond the grave. I ended up finding something more,” Lancel Warren whispered, his voice quivering a bit. “From there, it seemed logical to try and recreate the world into something better.”

  “Yeah, replace logical with batshit insane,” I finished unlocking the door. “I can't say I blame you, though. If Mandy died, I'd want to burn the world to the ground too.”

  “We’re not having a bonding moment are we?” Lancel Warren asked, sounding upset.

  “No, we're not,” I snapped.

  “As you wish,” Cloak said. “Eventually, I realized how insane the cult’s plans were after I met my brother’s children. He talked me out of my madness and we worked together for years thereafter. I vowed I would prevent the Reaper’s Cloaks from every being misused. It’s the reason why I support your endeavors, even if they are insane.”

  “We’re going to fix this, Lance,” I said, finishing unlocking the door.

  Opening it up, I saw my group standing outside looking more than a little annoyed. Diabloman was standing straight up, breathing audibly as he flexed and un-flexed his fingers. Mandy, on the other hand, looked forward as if she'd been waiting for me to open the door. Cindy was trying to chat up Angel Eyes and he was looking off into the distance, obviously bored out of his mind.

  “—I also play racquetball,” Cindy chattered on, smiling. “So, Angel Eyes, do you believe in the whole dating thing or are you into casual sex?”

  “Oh thank the gods,” Angel Eyes said, seeing me open the door.

  “Gary, what the hell were you doing in there?” Mandy asked, staring at me. “The city is being massacred out there.”

  I frowned and leaned in on my scythe. “A hundred or so ghosts need their souls sent onward. It's tiring work. Oh and Amanda found her dead mother's ghost. I'm guessing they have some issues to work out.”

  “Gary!” Amanda shouted from behind me.

  “You never said it was a secret!” I shouted back, not bothering to turn back to look at her. “I haven't seen hide nor hair of Dick Gleeson, so he's either deeper in the house or he fled when we defeated his buddy's robot. I'm going to be a bit longer so I suggest we split up and go after the Book of Midnight separately.”

  Cindy, stared at me in horror. “Split up? Gary, are you crazy? That's against all horror movie logic! I'm an attractive single woman who has lots of sex, I'm bound to die!”

  “This isn't a horror movie.” Then I looked over to the horde of ghosts behind me and my surroundings. Looking over at a nearby grandfather clock, I noticed we only had about forty minutes left until midnight. “We’re running out of time.”

  Diabloman replied, looking inside the house. “Can your spirit friends wait until we are done saving the city before you send them on their way?”

  “I think they've waited long enough,” I said, thinking of all the childish faces eying me. “Besides, they might know something.”

  They weren’t happy but I was in charge.

  For the time being at least.

  “Do you need any help with the scything?” Mandy asked, crossing her arms. “It's best if we take care of that first.”

  “Can you see ghosts now too?”

  “No, but I figure that you look ready to pass out.” Mandy pulled the Reaper's Scythe from me. I tried to hold onto it but she got it away from me rather easily. “I figure that between you and Amanda, I can do some of the heavy lifting for you. Just tap where I need to hit and I'll do it.”

  I took my scythe back, albeit with some difficulty. “I'll handle it. Could you please watch out for anything which looks like a Ring-wraith, though? I wouldn't put it past Dick to attack me while I'm depleting the spectral population of this place.”

  “Ahem,” Mandy coughed, looked down at my outfit then at Amanda’s own. “Anything that doesn't look like you two?”

  “Point taken,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “Anyone else who looks like a Death Eater, the Grim Reaper, or Sith Lord.”

  “Understood,” Mandy said.

  “I'm uncomfortable with the prospect of a woman being our primary protector,” Angel Eyes said. “It was appropriate when we were fighting amazons but now we’ll be fighting male opponents.”

  “You can have him, Cindy,” Mandy said, rolling her eyes. “I don't even want him mooning over me anymore.”

  Cindy wrinkled her nose in distaste before turning away from Angel Eyes. “Nah, it's okay. I'm sure there's someone out there with stunning good looks, a godlike body, and an aura of power. Wait, what was I saying?”

  “I feel I am being mocked,” Angel Eyes observed.

  “You're a real Aristotle, aren't you?”

  “I prefer Plato, myself,” Angel Eyes said, wrinkling his nose. “Fine, I'll go along with this perversion of the natural order.
For now.”

  God, I hated Angel Eyes. I hated every part of him, including his big beautiful blue eyes and flowing blond hair.

  Ignore that.

  “Alright, we're going to have rush this along my spooky friends. So, everyone close your eyes and I'm going to send you off on your merry way at once.” I shouted, turning around to face the ghosts. Jabbing my scythe down in the ground, another thunderclap resounded. Combined with the organ music, I felt like I'd stepped into an old Hammer Horror movie.

  “That's ridiculous,” a ghost missing half his head shouted. “We demand to be treated separately!”

  A chorus of shouts came up from the many spirits behind me, voicing their agreements.

  “Okay, now you're starting to piss me off. If you guys don't close your eyes and go along with this, I'm going to soul-kill you with my scythe. It can do that, I've read the manual. If you're lucky, it'll just send you to hell,” I said, accenting the last words. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Even the children?” the ghost missing half his face said, sounding afraid.

  “No, contrary to what Pat Benetar said, hell is not for children. They get into heaven regardless. On the count of three, people.”

  “Is Gary really talking to a hundred ghosts?” Cindy whispered behind me.

  “Yes,” Diabloman said. “I was trained to sense their presence by the monks of my order. This house is a great mystical convergence, much like the rest of the city, but more so.”

  “God, I hate this town,” Cindy grumbled, following me. “First thing I do after I make my first billion is buy one of the Hawaiian Islands. One of the ones without an active volcano.”

  “You may want to go for a smaller island,” Diabloman said. “A billion doesn't go as far as it used to.”

  “You're right,” Cindy said, nodding. “I'll have Gary ransom it from the government. I figure by then he'll control at least the lower forty-eight states.”

  “I’m debating getting Canada first.”

  “Why Canada?”

  “Why not Canada?”

  Amanda coughed and pointed to the horde of spirits around us. “The ghosts, Gary.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Reluctantly, but uniformly, the ghosts all closed their eyes. The only exception was Amanda's mother, who was still talking with her. It was somewhat gratifying to see I'd managed to shake them all out of their post-death lethargy through the simple power of my presence. Well that and the huge otherworldly artifact I was wielding.

  “Shouldn't we be saying something to these souls as we send them off?”

  “If you see Marilyn Monroe, tell her I'm sorry the press hounded her so much in life,” I said, addressing the ghosts. “Oh and tell my third grade teacher to rot in hell. I'm sure she's there.”

  “I don't even know why I bother.”

  “Neither do I,” I said. “One... two... three!”

  Slamming down my scythe into the ground, the entire mansion shook. One by one, the ghosts around me disappeared, until whole groups started to fade away. A few of them screamed as if being consumed by fire while the majority reacted as if they were waking up from a long nap. That told me more about the afterlife than my visiting it had.

  Only a single ghost remained, a man in a tuxedo with a pencil thin mustache and slicked black hair. “Ha! I knew you were a fraud!”

  Mandy put her hand on my shoulder. “Are they gone?”

  “Most of them,” I said. “There's always one jackass in a crowd.”

  “What are you going to do about him?” Mandy asked.

  “Not a damn thing,” I said. “He can have the cold satisfaction of sticking around this joint. Besides, the house is infinitely cooler being at least a little haunted.”

  “Now all we need is to find the Book of Midnight, cast whatever who-zit spell is needed to undo the hex, and save the world. Oh and kill Dick Gleeson.” Mandy put her hands on her hips.

  “You got it,” I said. “Let's hope we can find it in this place.”

  Amanda left her mother's side and walked over. Her face was grim, lacking all of the joy I'd had at meeting my brother. “My mother will show us the way to my father's resting place for the Book of Midnight.”

  “That's good news,” I said, having a distinctly feeling about this. “Right?”

  Amanda looked up. “Not quite. Apparently, Dick Gleeson got through the wards about an hour ago. He’s trying to destroy the Book of Midnight so we can’t use it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Finding the Douglas Family Vault

  “Sweet Mother of Solomon!” I spit, clenching my fists. “He has the book already?”

  “Probably,” Amanda said, looking pedantic. “I'm sorry.”

  We'd come all this way to try and get the Book of Midnight, only to find the damn thing might have been snatched up while I was reaping souls.

  “I'd say the person responsible was an idiot,” I said, “but since that's me. Someone else must be. Angel Eyes, I blame you.”

  “What?” Angel Eyes looked up.

  “George Orwell wrote a book on the way you think,” Cloak said. “He called it doublethink.”

  “Nah,” I said. “I would have been in the Inner Party. Julia and I would have been chilling while the world burned.”

  “Wait, you got that reference?”

  “I went to college, Lancel. I just didn't get a degree in anything useful,” I replied, trying to think of what to do next. “We are screwed every which way from Saturday.”

  “And not in a good way,” Cindy piped in. “So, Dick and the Brotherhood have the Book of Midnight. What's the worst that could happen?”

  “Well, the end of the world is already happening.” Mandy was holding her pistols downwards so they weren't aimed at anyone. Good gun safety. “So I can only assume it's going to happen faster if he brings the book to his boss, this Nightmaster character.”

  “Which would be bad,” I added.

  “I think we got that,” Mandy said.

  “Just making sure,” I said, holding my palms up. “We should get moving as soon as we've got our plan for dealing with him laid out.”

  “Are we sure the Society of Superheroes can’t take care of this?” Cindy said. “Hey, Amanda, did you make any super-secret teen hero friends during your training?”

  “No.” Amanda said, “And teen heroes? I’m five years younger than you and Gary.”

  Cindy blinked. “Really?”

  “Oh yes.” I said, “The sex tape proved it.”

  Amanda looked like she was going to throw a shuriken at my head then just blushed, which was surprising.

  “I think we can safely assume we’re alone here,” Mandy said, holding tightly to her pistols as expecting monsters to show up at any point. “Gary, Amanda, I need you to ask your cloaks what sort of powers the others have.”

  “Ten-four, Sexy Boss Lady,” I said. “Cloak?”

  “The other cloaks—”Cloak started to say before he was interrupted.

  “Dick Gleeson has the Cloak of the Dragon,” Amanda interrupted, looking between us.

  “It allows him to become a dragon. The literal fire-breathing kind.”

  Try as she might, she couldn't look intimidating in her outfit. It looked adorable on her.

  “Well, that's a bit on the nose isn't it?” I asked, chewing on my one of my thumbnails. “Anyone have any experience in dragon slaying?”

  “Does Lances and Labyrinths Online count?” Cindy inquired.

  “No,” I said.

  “Then no,” Cindy said. “Which is a pity because I had a 40th level Chaos-aligned Orcish thief who would have been perfect for this situation.”

  I lost a lot of respect for Cindy in that moment. After all, I had a 60th level Chaos Elf Warlock. Obviously, she didn't have sufficient devotion to playing our mutual computer obsession. I really needed to buy the latest expansion pack. Supposedly, they were bringing back the King Below by promoting one of his Wraith Knights.

  “The
others?” Mandy asked.

  Cloak said, “The Nightmaster’s Cloak grants all the abilities of the other cloaks combined as well as vast knowledge of sorcery. The price of said cloak is the subject goes steadily insane, however. The other cloaks are eso-morphic, transferring abilities as based on the personality of the wielder but one can expect they’re at least going to grant the ability to become insubstantial as well as powers related to the elements.”

  Great. I got stuck with one of the crappy cloaks.

  Cloak, somehow, glared at me.

  I could feel it.

  Explaining, Mandy and Amanda listened before discussing their battle plans. Mandy proved to be a good leader, taking in everyone’s opinions and formulating a strategy based on consensus.

  Mandy pointed to each of us as she spoke. “Angel Eyes, if you have any protective magic or things you can cast on us now, I need you to do that now. Diabloman, protect Gary, it's your job and I'll be very cross with you if my husband dies. Cindy, you quip and be useless.”

  “Righto,” Cindy said, saluting her. “I'll even throw in a cowardly back-stab before running away. I'm good at those.”

  “Good to know,” Mandy replied, not bothering to look at her. “We're going to hunt down Dick Gleeson and take the book back from him. If he turns into a dragon, we'll hit the wings first and then the underbelly. It worked in Tolkien and it worked in folklore. Any objections?”

  Cindy raised her hand, standing on her tippy-toes. “Ooo! I've got one.”

  “Except from Cindy,” Mandy said, looking between the rest of us. In that moment, she looked like the world's sexiest drill sergeant.

  “I do.” Angel Eyes coughed into his fist before raising a hand. “I can work my magic on you, Fair Lady, but there will be a risk. Aphrodite can bolster your strength, give you limited invulnerability, and perhaps even enhance your firearms but she is a jealous deity. The fact I am asking her to help a woman I care for will likely result in something ill befalling you.”

  “You can tell that Hellenistic ocean-born bitch nobody threatens my wife,” I snapped, fully willing to scale Mount Olympus and kill her if it came to that.