by Matt Carter
Is this the only reward I get?
“Thanks,” I said. I had no idea what to do with it. She looked at me expectantly. I lifted it to my mouth and took a big, juicy bite out of it. The skin was waxy and bitter, and the juice and bits of fruit poured down my face.
“It’s good,” I said, trying not to choke on a piece of skin as I swallowed.
“And you are very sweet, as well as foolish,” she said, kissing me on the cheek. “Would you like to walk with me to our test?”
She could have asked me to set myself on fire at that moment and I probably would have. “Sure.”
Who am I kidding. Probably?!
We talked about inconsequential things, our trip across the island, costumes, our favorite superheroes, what the upcoming tests might be like. I caught some of what she said, but the rest was a blur. There was probably some important information in there that I missed, but I mostly remember images (her smile, the tightness of her shirt across her chest, her laughing when I might have said something funny), and thinking don’tfuckupdon’t fuckupdon’tfuckup.
We were among the last to arrive. There were rows of folding chairs—enough to fit everyone on the boat—by the ruins of a building that had since been made to look like a cartoon bank. Blackjack stood by a table with three chairs lined up behind it, checking her watch and doing a head count; a man about two heads taller than her, dressed up as a rent-a-cop, stood behind her, looking bored. Nevermore ran off to join some friends. I found Odigjod, Showstopper, Ghost Girl, Felix, and Firewall in a row of seats toward the front. Firewall had come in her newly modified suit, with a couple robot arms and the ray gun I’d found added to her arsenal.
Satisfied that we were all here, Blackjack pulled a microphone from her pocket.
“Glad y’all showed up… what’s left of you, anyway. Welcome to your first assessment. Make it past this, and you’ve earned yourself a few more days on the island. Don’t, and, well, you’ve earned yourself a bed, a room, and three square meals a day in the Tower with its miles and miles of smiles!”
Yeah, reminding us of the stakes was going to get an honest assessment. Those who weren’t completely arrogant and full of themselves were trying to keep from shaking, shitting themselves, or vomiting.
Maybe even all three, like me.
“Today’s what we like to call Show and Tell Day. Each of you’s gonna have three minutes to impress us. Trick us into believin’ that you’re real supervillains. Now of course, since this is a competition, we’re gonna need some judges.” With that said, Blackjack pulled a small controller from her pocket and pressed a button.
From behind her appeared a Tri-Hole, which opened as three heroes stepped out. First came Black Blur, a dark-skinned, middle-aged superhero from London who smiled broadly and waved. The second was a bubbly, twenty-something blonde in a bright red, white, and blue costume with a lot of bare midriff and a domino mask. Shooting Star. She’d won a spot on the Protectors two seasons ago on America’s Next Protector. Though she hadn’t done any major heroism, she did have a rather lucrative career as a Christian pop singer, which made seeing her here unlikely. Everybody needs a hobby, I guess.
The last to step out was a large, muscular man. Completely bald and in his early seventies, he had a dour, scarred face from decades of superheroism. The Voice of the People, one of the Soviet Union’s finest.
He didn’t look very nice.
They all took seats at the table facing what I assumed was the stage as Blackjack explained the test. She went on about how all good heroes and villains had catchphrases, and how even though some were good and others were bad, when said with conviction they were vital to a super’s branding. So, in addition to showing our stuff, we would be given a card with three increasingly silly things to say to see how well we would commit ourselves to doing as we were told.
“First up… Apex Strike!”
At first, I didn’t hear my name; I was so focused on wondering how embarrassing these catchphrases would be. Then I felt hands, some encouraging, some glad it wasn’t them, pushing me along the aisles, others offering encouragement, whispering that they wanted to see me crash and burn. Blackjack guided me to the judge’s table, where Shooting Star handed me a card.
“Knock ’em dead, cutie,” she said, shooting me a quick wink. My confidence swelled.
“Impress us or else,” the Voice of the People said. And just as it had risen, my confidence immediately shrunk.
Quickly, I looked at the card. They had to be kidding.
“I’m really supposed to say this?” I asked.
“It’s easier than it looks, trust me,” Black Blur said. “Once the adrenaline’s flowing, you can do anything.”
I walked up to the mock bank set, keeping most of my shakes in check. The fake rent-a-cop pulled a baton from his belt, beating it against his free hand and smiling. Something about him looked familiar…
Blackjack smiled back at me, shaking her head slightly before turning to the rest, “Now, one of you versus an ordinary Joe may be fun to watch, but it’s hardly what we’re lookin’ for here. So, to make this more interestin’, I’d like to introduce you all to our special guest judge today, Everywhere Man.”
So that’s where I recognized him from! Fuck!
Everywhere Man clapped his hands together, causing about a dozen duplicates of himself to pop up around me in a circle, each beating their baton in their free hand in unison.
“Now, these duplicates got no souls and can’t feel a thing, so feel free to fuck ’em up all you want.
“All right, the clock starts… now!”
“What?” I shrieked as his duplicates pounced on me. One cracked me across the back of the legs, taking me down in agony. Soon after I fell, the others pounced on me, clubbing my entire body. They were pulling their punches, not trying to kill me, but that didn’t stop the pain, blinding and sharp. It felt like they were breaking every bone in my body. I could hear some cheering in the distance, others laughing. I held my hands out for mercy, begging them to stop, thinking that the Tower couldn’t possibly be worse than this pain.
Then… something strange happened. The pain brought a strange clarity.
I remembered where I was.
I remembered who I was.
I remembered what had happened the last time I fought a superhero.
I can take him.
Focus!
The energy bubble I created was enough to knock them all back, enough to help me roll painfully onto my hands and knees and regain my footing. Triumphantly, with fists balled, I faced the audience and roared.
“I’M APEX STRIKE, MOTHERFUCKERS!”
This wasn’t one of my lines, and it probably wouldn’t make a very good catchphrase, but it got the audience cheering.
For the moment, at least, Aidan Salt was gone, and I was all Apex Strike.
I found the card I’d dropped, mashed into the ground and covered in mud. I wiped off some of the muck before the first of the Everywhere Men got back to their feet.
The first catchphrase was easy enough to shout.
“WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE A PICTURE OF MY ITTY BITTY KITTY MITTENS?” I cried out, launching three of the Everywhere Men into the fake bank’s wall so hard they disintegrated with three resounding pops.
Some of the others had regained their feet and started chasing me. Having had some experience running from superheroes already, this didn’t scare me as much as I thought it might. I shot some focus back at them, crushing one into a small ball and sending the others sailing into the audience, each disappearing once they’d been hit hard enough. The next catchphrase was smudged too heavily, so I’d have to improvise.
“I LIKE WEARING WOMEN’S UNDERWEAR!” I practically screamed as I dodged another clumsy attack from one of the Everywhere Men. I think that’s what the card said, at least.
“One minute left!” Blackjack called out.
Gotta finish this one with a bang.
There were five left.
&nbs
p; They surrounded me.
I had an idea.
I wasn’t sure I could pull it off (precision had never really been my thing), but even if I couldn’t, I was pretty sure it’d look cool.
After all, I was Apex Strike.
Focus.
One by one, I grabbed each of the five and lifted them off the ground. I must have squeezed two of them too tightly, because they popped like grapes and disappeared. I was able to hold on to the other three just fine as they kicked and thrashed in midair. I flicked my hand up, and each of them shot into the sky like bullets. I have no idea how far they would have gone if they hadn’t exploded against the curve of the force field, but I like to think I’d have been able to get them out of the atmosphere.
Finally, turning back to the audience, I put my hands on my hips and tried to deliver the last phrase from the card as confidently as I could.
“Now THAT is how you make a perfect batch of macaroons!”
The crowd broke out in applause; even some of those who had wished me dead earlier clapping (except Carnivore, but I thought I had scared him enough to make him back off).
At Blackjack’s direction, I hobbled over to stand in front of the judge’s table for their assessment.
“A little sloppy in the beginning and the end, but I think you nailed it once you found your confidence! You really made it your own!” Black Blur said.
“That was awesome!” Shooting Star added. “I mean, my word, I could see you had some trouble for a little while, but you really brought what’s unique and special about you to put on a great show. Plus, you’re a cutie, and you seem to have real fun doing what you’re doing. My word, I could see you fighting the Protectors tomorrow.”
Again, I swelled with pride… or maybe that was just fluid collecting from the beating.
The Voice of the People, as usual, looked like he was sitting on something very sharp.
“I believe you are a danger. To yourself. To others. You lack the focus necessary to be an effective member of a team as important as this, and you are a coward who could get people killed unnecessarily. Further, you did not take the time to remember your second line when following the script is key to our glorious plan, and you did not do even that.… You failed in my book.”
I’d expected worse from him, so that was a relief.
I hobbled back to my seat, and thankfully Spasm wasn’t far behind, fixing me up as we watched Artok step up next. I enjoyed watching him fumble. Out of the water he was useless, and though he put up a solid fight, he got scathing reviews from all three judges.
My pleasure didn’t last too long, sadly. Everyone put on a much better show than I did. They clearly had better control over their powers, and nobody took a beating like I did.
Firewall didn’t scream when surrounded, but rather just unleashed the death ray I’d given her, wiping out the Everywhere Men so quickly that they had to send in more.
When Felix was knocked down, he didn’t whimper and beg, but instead transformed into a crystal giant and destroyed his attackers.
When the Gnome Caller had her arms pinned behind her by one of the Everywhere Men, she didn’t even break a sweat. She just let out a piercing Nordic cry that summoned a few hundred sentient lawn gnomes from a pocket dimension that tore the Everywhere Men apart with their sharp little teeth.
While many excelled, some stumbled worse than me. Carnivore was so focused on ripping his victims to shreds that he forgot to say two of his catchphrases and Nevermore, though she put on one of the best shows with her tattoos, said hers out of order. Some (especially the fliers) were more boring than me, but not by much.
Seeing Showstopper force the Everywhere Men into a dance number out of West Side Story, the cartoon clown boy, Circus, bending reality like a video game with all the cheat codes on, and Ghost Girl’s acrobatics that made it look like she could predict their moves, I got nervous.
Not too nervous, but nervous enough.
Finally, after the Zone Runner had finished doing whatever it is that Zone Runners do (it was hard to pay attention after nearly five hours of these, including a dinner break), Blackjack talked with the judges. They compared notes, even bringing in Everywhere Man for his opinion on how we’d all done. The tension in the air was thick. Odigjod grasped my hand tightly in one of his claws. Despite having one of the best showings of all of us, he was shaking like a leaf.
Finally, Blackjack took the stage. She opened up another Tri-Hole behind her.
She didn’t have to tell us that this one led to the Tower.
“All right. Just wanna thank y’all for your patience. We had some tough choices to make, but we’ve come to an agreement. There’s seventy-three of you here, and only seven spots on the team. Fifty-two of you are moving on to the next round. Twenty of you aren’t. Black Blur?”
The middle-aged judge stood, arching his back. Then, true to his name, he disappeared in a blur. He was allegedly the fourth-fastest person on the planet, capable of breaking the time barrier if he tried hard enough. I wouldn’t have believed it until today. Occasionally you’d hear a surprised yelp as he plucked someone up and hurled them through the Tri-Hole, but usually he was too fast for them to even notice something had happened.
Afraid again, I closed my eyes tightly. I’mfineI’mfineI’mfineI’mfineI’mfine…
“All right, thank y’all for your patience!” Blackjack said over the loudspeakers. “Get yourselves some rest, because classes start tomorrow!”
I opened my eyes, seeing Blackjack and Everywhere Man leave through the Tri-Hole before it disappeared. Relief flooded through every part of my body as I collapsed back into my chair. I wasn’t the only one. The suddenness had past, and one by one everyone started looking around, seeing who was left and who wasn’t. Most of the fliers and some of the others with more boring powers were gone, as well as the Cyclops from Carnivore’s gang.
So was Artok. Yes!
Everyone I liked was still here. Cheers and cries of relief started circling those of us still left as everyone shared hugs and high fives. Though I’ve never been much for closeness, it felt good to hug Showstopper, Felix, and even Odigjod and Firewall, though through her suit it felt like she was trying to break my back.
I saw Nevermore in a small group hugging her two remaining friends, and we exchanged smiles and nods.
Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?
#Supervillainy101: The Third Cataclysm
Every thirty to forty years since the rise of the supers, Earth has gone through what scientists have called “Cataclysms.” Apparently, our universe has something close to an infinite number of alternate universes sharing the same space (roughly) full of the same planets and people, just slightly off. (Makes me wonder what all the alternate versions of me are like.) Sometimes these universes get slightly out of sync and collide, and in order to make things right again, a battle needs to take place.
Don’t ask me to explain the whys here. I don’t know why they only started happening once the supers rose, nor do I understand why a battle’s supposed to take place to fix it. All I know is that all the superheroes of all the participating dimensions have to take part, and occasionally a universe is destroyed or merged with another, and sometimes we get new heroes out of it.
The Third Cataclysm occurred in 1969, when some brainwashed clone of El Capitán from an alternate universe grabbed the fabric of reality and ripped it in half, nearly destroying all existence. Most of our heroes were involved in repelling a Gray invasion on the moon and couldn’t come back to Earth in time to save it.
Seeing this, several of the most influential villains of the day decided to step in to save the world. Led by Otis Shylock, Professor Death, Blackjack, and Dr. Tongue, an army of nearly one hundred supervillains and a few stray heroes and sidekicks worked around the clock to right the fabric of existence, ending this Cataclysm faster than either of the previous two had under the heroes.
Realizing what they could do together, Otis Shylock and Professor D
eath did something that had never been dreamt of in the past: they created a team of supervillains. With nearly thirty members, the Villain’s Union created a criminal empire the likes of which the world had never seen, elevating this odd group of petty thugs to celebrity status almost overnight.
Of course, the sight of a group of villains working together was too dangerous to let stand, and in response the heroes reformed a new version of the Protectors (a group temporarily created to fight in World War II and disbanded shortly thereafter) to confront the threat that this group clearly posed.
The War on Villainy had begun.
#LessonLearned: Sometimes adversity has a way of bonding people.
7
THE CHIN
It was three weeks before we felt strong enough to make it to “The Chin.”
Three weeks of struggle.
Three weeks of nonstop classes in performance and diction, in stage fighting and real fighting, in using our powers and gaining the confidence to look like we’d been using them forever.
Three weeks of lousy sleep and lousier food.
Three weeks of watching pretty much everyone but me get laid.
Three weeks of constant judgment by heroes and the ever-present threat of elimination.
With all this going on, the six of us never should have had the time to make it to the Chin, but we did.
I blame Felix.
Not for making it to the Chin. He’d have done that anyway, probably just for fun. No, I blame him for convincing us, somehow, that jogging and hiking would be fun.
Without using our powers. Pre-dawn.
The man was a sadist.
“Come on guys, it’ll be fun!” he said.
“Come on guys, it’ll be good for you!” he said.
“Come on guys, what else do we have to do for fun here?” he said.
While I could answer “No it won’t” quite handily to his first two statements, he had me on the third. If the heroes had given us some video games and tablets, this would be like home and we’d never have to leave the town ruins… or Firewall would have stolen all of them from us and made them into a machine that would help her escape the island or end the world.
