The Rules of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 1)

by C. T. Phipps

“Yeah, that’s just fucking hilarious,” I said, trying and failing to keep my immense sarcasm out.

  Staring down at the guards, their helmets dripping blood and other liquids down on the ground before me, I almost launched myself at Psychoslinger. This was real and I might have been able to stop Psychoslinger with Sunlight if I’d tried to. At the very least, I’d had an obligation to try.

  “Steady. His time will come.”

  “You don’t sound like you approve,” Psychoslinger said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

  Clenching my fists, I counted to five before uncurling them. Turning to Psychoslinger, I put on the fakest smile imaginable. “I dunno, it was kind of quick, shouldn’t you have done their legs first? Make em beg a little?”

  “Oh!” Psychoslinger said, slapping his head. “That’s why you sound upset. I get it. No, these guys are just mooks. We save that for the real prey.”

  “So this is just…warming up?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It may be against the rules to kill heroes but that doesn’t mean we can’t torture them.”

  That was what I was afraid of. “Yeah, I suppose it doesn’t.”

  If I continued to travel with Psychoslinger then I would, undoubtedly, be party to more murders. He was a complete psychopath and, worse, was working for Tom Terror. If I helped Tom Terror escape with both the power-nullifier and his teleporter than I was potentially unleashing the equivalent of a world-ending disaster.

  Tom Terror hadn’t managed to conquer the Earth in eighty-years but he’d come close on several occasions. He’d even managed to take over an alien planet and rechristen it Terrorworld. The thing was, Tom Terror only had to win once and the world would enter an age of darkness.

  Or, he might fuck it up again and I’d be free. Better still, I’d have a friend on the inside who was smart enough to let me out. The best supervillains never stayed locked up for very long and it was precisely because of these sorts of jailbreaks. It was times like these I had to question just how committed I was to my philosophy of letting nothing hold me back.

  Would I really burn the world to be with Mandy again?

  Yes, I would.

  But it would mean her knowing me as a monster.

  And I wasn’t sure I could stand to have her look at me that way.

  Or Keith, or Gabrielle, or all the people I loved in this world and the next.

  Fuck. No wonder so many supervillains were committed loners.

  “I can’t advise you on this, Gary,” Cloak said. “I have too much blood on my hands to judge a man for his deeds.”

  “Then shut up.”

  I continued to think, following Psychoslinger and hoping we didn’t come across any more guards or heroes.

  I also knew that hope was in vain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Where I Discover that Sci-Fi Horror is Still Horror

  A half-hour later, we were lost. Apparently, Tom Terror’s precise instructions were a complete load of crap.

  “This place is a maze!” Psychoslinger growled, shaking his fist. “Let’s find someone to torture some information out of.”

  I sighed and pulled a map off the side of the wall which was next to an emergency staircase. Consulting it, I pointed down the hall.

  “We have to go down there, past the cafeteria, past the armory, under the ecological preserve, through the courtyard, and beyond the civilian housing to reach the Heroes’ Wing.”

  “Armory?” Psychoslinger’s head perked up. “Like guns or...bigger guns?”

  I continued consulting the map for intelligence about the Society of Superheroes. “More like all of the super-technology, alien weapons, magical items, and otherwordly stuff the heroes have confiscated over the years. You know, which isn’t in their rooms as trophies.”

  I paused, realizing what I’d just said.

  “We have got to go there!” Psychoslinger said, clenching his fists. “I want exploding boxing gloves!”

  I debated telling him the obvious flaw with that desire. You know, losing your hands, but realized I didn’t care if he did or not. “I don’t think it works like a store. Also, all the other supervillains are going to be going for the armory too. Which will mean they’re going to be intercepted by all the superheroes who will realize this. Which means it is exactly the opposite of the way we need to go in order to make use of the quote-unquote distraction Tom Terror has provided us.”

  Psychoslinger stared at me and I worried if I’d pushed him too far. It was a delicate balance dealing with psychopaths like him. I’d used to work with a few at the bank. Push them too far and they would slit your throat. Push them not at all and they’d walk all over you.

  Psychoslinger conjured a glowing boomerang in hand.

  I looked down at the map. “Of course, if you really want, I suppose we have to go there anyway.”

  Psychoslinger’s entire attitude changed. “Ah, you’re alright, M! We should be sex brothers!”

  I stared at him. “I...am not familiar with that term.”

  “Well, first we kidnap a hooker...” Psychoslinger continued the conversation but I mercifully, no pun intended, tuned him out from that point on.

  I was spared having to devote any of my attention to what was a disgusting story by the sight of something almost as disgusting. On the other end of the hallway was an eight-legged black creature with a long scorpion tail and ant-like body. It had no eyes but a huge phallic head with mandibles on the ends of its mouth. It was standing over the corpses of four prison guards it had torn to shreds despite their armor and extraterrestrial weapons, feasting on their insides.

  Oh God, the smell.

  A Deathmonger.

  I recognized the creature from television and movie adaptations, as well as newspaper reports: a Deathmonger. Deathmongers were the equivalent of chemical weapons in the greater universe, outlawed but still used biological monstrosities. Superheroes could tear through them like wet-tissue paper but normal human beings? Like I was, presently? They were lunch meat.

  I took three steps back. “Game over, man, game over.”

  “Eh, it’s just a big dumb animal,” Psychoslinger said, throwing a pair of his psionic boomerangs at the creature’s head.

  They slammed into its skull.

  And caused it to look up from its meal and hiss.

  Aw crap.

  I proceeded to hit the ground with the speed of a bullet train as the Deathmonger leapt over my head and slammed into Psychoslinger, starting to claw out his insides and tear parts of his body. Oddly, Psychoslinger’s body didn’t produce blood but seemed to disintegrate into psychic energy as he was torn to shreds. Remember the old joke about the two men being chased by a bear, I gave Psychoslinger a salute and ran away from the Deathmonger. I picked up one of the fallen guards’ electros-staffs and high-tailed it down the hall.

  “You realize that’s just going to excite it, right?”

  “No, I’m not an expert in space monsters!”

  “Keep running. You’re almost to the prison decontamination zone.”

  A nightmarish roar echoed from behind me.

  “Deathmongers belonged in the biological preserve and extraterrestrial zoological research center. If they were released, that could be a million terrible horrors ready to be unleashed on the people here. Every man, woman, and child in Avalon may be threatened.”

  I tried to imagine a million terrible things like the Deathmonger. My mind blanked after the first three. “Why the hell would they have that here?”

  “On the moon? So our research to benefit humanity and other races doesn’t endanger Earth!”

  “It’s a stupid idea to keep that near supervillains!”

  “Admittedly, I agree on that but it was a budget concern. That and keeping all of the supervillain’s weapons and equipment nearby. It, too, is being researched for the greater benefit of mankind.”

  I’d been wondering about that. “So how do these things see?”

  “Motion sense!”

 
I saw the Decontamination Area not too far away. About thirty-yards down a straight hallway. Decontamination was a series of joined hallways with separate control stations that worked like a combination of airport security and a medical center. Given the staggering number of oddball methods supervillains might escape, they had methods for guarding against everything from nanites to fungus capable of eating through concrete to sentient viruses. Guinevere had given me the rundown while explaining to me, in vivid terms, how I was never going to be able to get out of here.

  Shows what she knew.

  That was when I heard the Deathmonger bouncing behind me. Turning around, I saw the creature move around a corner to about fifteen yards away. It was moving slowly, saving the kill. Looking around, I saw the hallway was mostly filled with atmosphere processors and heating fuel which I didn’t possess the scientific training to figure out how to turn into a makeshift weapon.

  I lifted up the end of the electro-staff and charged it, pushing its power up to the maximum as I backed up. “Nice kitty.”

  The Deathmonger prepared to pounce.

  I was so dead.

  “Gary, the piping right up above you! Hit it now!” Cloak shouted.

  I didn’t hesitate and did so, causing strange gray gas to flood down on the creature which ignited from the charge and burned the Deathmonger—horribly. My hands were terribly burned and I screamed, only to drop the staff then start running again, clutching my mangled hands. I couldn’t feel them anymore and hesitated to look at them. The monster continued to scream as more heating fluid continued to pour down on it but it gave no sign of dying.

  “We need...to...nuke these things...god almighty, from orbit!” I said, in-between painful grunts. “It’s the only way to be sure.”

  I ran through the Decontamination chambers as fast as I could, The monster behind me lumbered at a quarter of its speed, which was still running distance for a regular human and I ran through the last of the contamination chambers, I saw a big red button on one of the controls. Unable to use my hands, I slammed my elbow on it. Behind me, a transparent steel room closed its doors and locked the monster inside. It was burned heavily and looking very upset, as much as a creature with no eyes or recognizable human features could do so.

  That’s when a mechanical female voice said, “HOSTILE ORGANISM DETECTED. BEGIN DECONTAMINATION.”

  A glowing green energy filled the chamber.

  Followed by the Deathmonger exploding.

  Its acidic innards and blood started melting the walls of the chamber, only for the green energy to burn them away.

  “My mommy always said there were no monsters, no real ones, but there are.” I stared at the empty chamber.

  I was going to lose my hands, I knew it.

  “Will you stop quoting that damned movie,” Cloak muttered.

  “Make me.”

  Turning around, I was almost immediately forced to back away as I saw a second Deathmonger crouched in front of me.

  “Aw, shit.”

  The creature looked different than its counterpart, being smaller and more agile looking, with less armor. I guessed it was the male of the species since I vaguely recalled the organisms had sexual dimorphism which favored the female. I also suspected it was the mate of the one I’d just killed since, unlike xenomorphs, Deathmongers were a pack-race rather than hive. Which meant, given they were as smart as apes, it was probably intelligent enough to want me to suffer for killing its mate.

  Oh well.

  Not much I could do about it now.

  I closed my eyes.

  “See you in a bit, Cloak,” I said, mentally. “I hope our next wearer is less of a jerk than me.”

  “Alakazam!” I heard a voice with a thick New England accent shouted.

  I blinked, opening my eyes and watching the Deathmonger in mid-pounce start to change. It fell to the ground, twisting and thrashing, growing smaller and smaller. Eventually, much to my surprise, it became a one-foot-long fluffy white rabbit.

  Which hissed at me.

  “Gah!” I said, bolting away. “Get this knigget away from me!”

  “What’d he do? Nibble your bum?” the aforementioned voice said.

  “That is a foul-t...” I trailed off, not in the mood for any more movie references. Which meant the situation was truly dire.

  I shook my head and looked up, blinking as I saw the Black Witch. It was a testament to how much pain I was in that I didn’t immediately start drooling. The Black Witch was, much like Guinevere, one of the candidates for the title ‘World’s Most Beautiful Woman.’ However, while Guinevere was just beauty in general, love and rainbows as much as centerfolds, the Black Witch was very much the latter alone.

  Compared to many of the more stripper-esque costumes worn by some supervillains and supervillainesses, usually to their detriment when punches were exchanged, the Black Witch’s attire was positively demure. My wife’s ex-girlfriend was wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit which accented every curve and proportion with a long black leather trench coat over her shoulders. She had perfect skin, teeth, blue crystal eyes, and long raven-black hair which trailed over her shoulders. If Kate Beckinsale’s character from Underworld and Eva Green had a child through science, it would probably resemble Selena Darkchilde.

  “Hey, Sal,” I said, calling her by the name she hated.

  Selena narrowed her eyes, clenching her teeth. “Hold your hands out, Gary. I could make this not hurt but I’m not going to.”

  I did so, getting my first look at the horrific ruined mass of my hands. I couldn’t properly feel anything in my hands because the nerves had been burned away. All the pain was from all the nerves connected to them feeling how much damage I’d endured.

  “Abracadabra,” Selena said, pulling out a cheap toy stage magician’s wand and waved it over my hands.

  I tried to stifle my scream.

  I failed.

  I can’t describe the kind of pain I felt so I won’t even try but it was over in an instant.

  My hands smoked, a glowing aura of Olympian magic surrounded them.

  They were also healed.

  Completely.

  Which meant she could do magic.

  Interesting.

  I stared at them. “Sal, I could kiss you.”

  “I’ll pass,” Selena said, putting up her wand. “I will never understand why, of all the men in the world, you’re the one who persuaded Mandy over.”

  “I’m pretty sure she was always into guys as well as girls. You can be both,” I said, wiggling my fingers. “I do owe you, though.”

  “I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for her,” Selena said, sticking her thumb up over her shoulder.

  Looking behind her, I was surprised to see there was a small gathering of supervillains and heroes around the place. There was Bronze Medalist, a late-thirties African American speedster who was the Silver Lightning’s former sidekick and partner (in both senses of the word). He was dressed in a red and green jumpsuit which covered everything but his face and had a pair of yellow goggles over his eyes. I remembered him mostly from those ill-conceived anti-drug PSAs from the Eighties and his energy drink commercials.

  Beside him was General Venom, dressed in his stars-and-stripes armor with lightsaber-esque power sword and shield, still doing his attempt at ill-conceived redemption it seemed. General Venom had been a superhero in the 1960s called the Star Spangled Banner before the Vietnam Wars had messed up his brain so much he’d come to believe the United States government was secretly under the control of Tsavong shapeshifters and needed to be overthrown. Not even cleaning them out in the 1980s had stopped his terrorist attacks.

  Behind them was the Red Schoolgirl, a wild-eyed and haired Japanese girl in a black sailor fuku holding a Muramasa katana which continually dripped blood. Her hair was in Chinese bunches with ribbons hanging down the side. There were rumors the Red Schoolgirl was insane and no one knew if she was a hero or a villain. Beside her was the Human Tank, a bulky-grey-camouflag
e-colored metal-armored villain rarely seen out of her suit. The Human Tank was one of my brother’s old cronies from New Angeles. She was a dull, serious woman who didn’t talk too much from my recollection. It had taken me years to realize she was a woman.

  “She transitioned during your childhood.”

  “Oh, now I feel like a jackass,” I replied.

  There was no sign of the ‘she’ who Selena might be referring to, though. None of these people knew me from Adam. Hell, Selena was more likely to help me out and we hated each other.

  Stepping out from behind the others was a figure I recognized all too well. She was short, as short as Mandy, but muscular with long dark hair she kept in a ponytail behind her. The woman was about my age, pretty albeit not like the selection of supermodels which seem to be oh-so-common around here. Frankly, I preferred the muscled look and there was something familiar about her in addition to her being the third most famous superheroine in the world.

  Ultragoddess.

  Ultragoddess was an olive-skinned Afro-Hispanic woman with a gold and white costume reminiscent of Ultragod’s but altered to include a short skirt over bare legs and thigh-high boots. Given Ultragoddess was invulnerable to anything short of a nuclear warhead there wasn’t much point in worrying about her legs. At one point, I recalled she’d even tried a midriff-bearing version of it but switched back after the already-prevalent cat calls had switched to outright obscenities.

  Ultragoddess was, in many ways, the heroine of my generation. Not only was she the daughter of the world’s most powerful superhero and his rejuvenated bride, civil rights attorney Polly Pratchett, but she’d grown up with us. We’d seen her as Ultragirl, Ultrateen, and even the ill-fated Ultranater in the Nineties. The media had tried to turn her into their perfect paragon, like their father, and I’d always gotten the impression it had made her mad as hell. Part of that was Gabrielle’s constant stream of chatter to that effect.

  Wait...Gabrielle.

  I felt my head as it seemed a bunch of memories were trying to come back at once. Forcing them to the surface, I lifted up my fingers and tried to imagine a pair of glasses and a blonde wig on her head. I remember long nights with my Xbox, pizza, and her. I remembered the investigations we’d done into all the local superheroines and crime. I remembered how she insisted on making love in the dark. How she’d been the first girl I’d ever said I love you to. The only one other than Mandy.