Villains Pride (The Shadow Master Book 2)

by M. K. Gibson

  “To be fair, sir, no one knows who you are here.”

  True. “Well, let us fix that. First, what can you tell me about the Greek Chorus?”

  “They’re going to kick your ass, is who they are,” the SUV driver said.

  Sighing, I shoved her into oncoming traffic as a distraction. I then grabbed two slack-jawed onlookers, one in each hand, and threw them through the air with my augmented strength. As they took flight, I repeated the process several more times. The Greek Chorus flew through the sky, swooping down to catch the civilians before they went splat.

  A simple rule of villainy is that heroes tend to prevent the harm of innocents. An admirable trait, but foolish when one considered immediate casualties against potential future losses. But I felt no such moral compunction when fools refused to run for cover.

  With the Chorus occupied, I ran. Not that I was a coward, but I needed more information and a tactical advantage. Throwing raw power about in the open street was for grandstanding fools and summer movie watching.

  “Where do we stand with the Chorus details?” I asked Sophia, ducking into a nearby alley.

  “Sure thing, sir. Let’s see . . . ahh, here we are. Greek Chorus. A symbiotic commune of superpowered heroes who share a hive mind. It says that when one person becomes a member, each other member gains that new hero’s powers and abilities.”

  “Hive mind? A telepath or a psychic?” I asked, diving through the crowd.

  “None of the above,” Sophia countered. “Oh, you’ll love this. It seems the Chorus is led by an alien refugee from Venus who came to Earth.”

  “Venus? Really?” I asked, sounding disappointed.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense. But, new universe, new rules, sir.”

  “I suppose,” I relented. I peered out cautiously from the alley’s mouth. “I see seven of them. How many are there?”

  “Well, there are twenty-four letters in the Greek alphabet.”

  “Ask a stupid question,” I chided myself.

  Floating above were four women and three men. Each was adorned in varying colors of the same head-to-toe bodysuit, a different Greek letter emblazoned on their chests: Eta, Gamma, Iota, Mu, Nu, Tau, and Upsilon.

  The Chorus, like most superheroes, were built like bodybuilders and fashion models. But there was one—or rather, a few—things that caught my eye.

  “That’s just obscene. They have to be stuffing their spandex, don’t you think?” I asked Sophia. “No amount of Crossfit did all . . . that. And there damn sure isn’t an exercise I know of, or machine at the gym, specifically designed for wang-enhancement.”

  “Sir, is this the right time for such observations?”

  “Come on, Sophia. How can you ignore all that?” I asked, gesturing towards the sky. “Come on. Just look at the females, and their ridiculous proportions. That is an unrealistic body standard. And there’s no way that’s aerodynamic. Gods above and below, they all look like zentai bondage models. And not a panty line in the bunch. Degenerates.”

  I poked my head out further from the alleyway and screamed towards the sky, “Shame on you all! Won’t someone think of the children?!”

  I quickly pulled my head back as seven energy blasts came rocketing in. “Well, that got their attention.” I laughed. “So, any recommendations?”

  “If you’re going to be in that universe for a while, sir, then it’s time to make a name for yourself. King Stanley gave you the go-ahead to have some fun, so might I suggest you do just that?”

  She was right; I knew that. But it’d been so long since I had to start from scratch. My empire meant nothing here. My network of spies, informants, and clients did not exist here. All I had were my skills, wits, intellect, and assistant Sophia to build everything from the ground up.

  Just like last time.

  Yup. It’s a sequel.

  “Sir, according to this world’s master database, I need to log your identity, powers, and of course, your supervillain name. So, do you have once picked out?”

  I smirked.

  “Sophia, like you had to ask,” I said, looking up at the Greek Chorus, letting my power build within me. “I’m the goddamn Shadow Master.”

  Chapter Four and a Half

  Where My Naming Application Hits a Slight Hiccup

  “Uhh, sorry sir. No you’re not. Not here, anyway. The Shadow Master name is taken.”

  “What?” I asked, angered. “What do you mean taken?”

  “I mean it’s taken, sir. According to this database, ‘Shadow Master’ is the registered code name for a villain who operates out of the adjacent city of Far Haven. Although with its Gothic influence, it’s known as Fear Haven.”

  Sigh. Goddamn superhero universe.

  “What’s available?”

  “Let’s see, Shadow Jack’s taken, The Shadow King is a possible lawsuit in the making, as is The Shadow. Shadow Man, taken. Man-Shadow, taken. Dark Shadow, Shadow Stalker, Shadow Storm, Dr. Shadow, all taken.”

  “What’s left?”

  “Manaconda?”

  “Sophia,” I growled. “I’m not going to be . . . Manaconda.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sophia agreed. “It was just registered. Huh, so was Handaconda. Wow, a lot of snake-based people in that universe. Names seem to go as fast as websites. Maybe you can buy it from him? He could just be squatting on it. According to this report, he’s not a very good criminal.”

  “Can you just register me as The Shadow Master?” I asked. “If there is one thing the comic book realms are known for, is doubling and tripling down on code names.”

  “If you want, sir. I’m just looking out for you and our brand recognition.”

  “After I’m done with the Greek Chorus, there will be no doubt.”

  “And for superpowers, would you like to make everything shadow-based? For the motif, like King Stanley said.”

  “Sure,” I agreed. “Go for it.”

  “Done, sir. Have fun.”

  I smiled, then paused. “Hey, how’s Lydia? What’s her mood like?”

  Sophia took a breath, but said nothing.

  “Sophia?”

  “You just take care of business there, sir. You may be there a while.”

  “Damn right he will!” I heard Lydia’s voice chime in.

  “I thought this was a private line?” I asked Sophia.

  “She’s a goddess, sir,” Sophia reminded me.

  “Exactly,” Lydia concurred. “So, you’ve been gone what—twenty minutes tops and you’re already ogling other women?”

  “It isn’t like that hon, you know that. And to be fair, I also pointed out the wieners. I was just—”

  “Oh, I get it all right. Your little pregnant mistress back home doesn’t look like them. I hope the superheroes knock some sense into you and THEN you’re run over by another truck!”

  Lydia’s presence was gone from the call in a huff.

  “SUV,” Sophia corrected.

  Sigh. It was going to be a long banishment.

  Chapter Five

  Where I Restate My Code, Announce My Presence to the World, and Kill a Few Heroes

  During the early days of my career, I ventured across many realms and fought many times. Getting my hands dirty was never a problem. But I always ensured I never crossed the line between villainy and evil. There is a difference. True villainy comes from another desire. And I have that desire—to be the top power.

  While I don’t care about the suffering of innocents, I also find no joy in it. You see, true villainy doesn’t stem from a desire to do wicked things. Deviants who kill, rape, and torture are pure sociopaths.

  Garbage.

  Beneath me.

  Just like those pompous, pretentious fools who cling to the Oxford comma.

  Yes yes, I realize this is word-for-word from my first book. But clearly you barely vertebrate Neanderthals haven’t grasped who I am yet.

  Based on a few reviews, I’m surprised some of you are even literate. Once again, I ques
tion public education. And before you make a comment, I am aware that the Oxford comma is prominent in all my works. That is because my editor is one of those Oxford fanatics.

  I shall deal with her later.

  As for the rest of you psychos who leave Amazon, Audible, and Goodreads reviews wanting me to rip, destroy, debase, and mutilate everything in ways you think a villain should, well, you might have a problem. If you want a dark tale like that, don’t shop in the comedy section.

  Idiots.

  Oh, hey, idiots comment aside: If you’re available, I’d very much enjoy employing you based on your sociopathic predilections. However, when you’re killed off as the good little foot soldier pawns that you are, neither I, nor the world, nor even your own family will weep for you.

  So do yourselves a favor: Get out in the sun one in a while, smile more, and lighten the fuck up.

  With my preemptive mea culpa out of the way, I turn my attention to the present and the potential joy before me. You see, superhero fights are notorious for being explosive displays of power, causing massive collateral damage.

  While I normally abhor any senseless destruction that does not posit me a net gain, it’s truly goddamn glorious to cut loose once in a while. Considering that the previous half hour involved me getting kicked out of my home by my baby-momma, getting run over, and attacked, I needed the stress relief.

  ********

  As Sophia registered my name in the database, I felt a wave of power settle over me like a mantle. I stepped forward from the dark alley and lit one of my black cigarettes.

  “Hello Chorus, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You may surrender now, if you wish. But I have to admit, I won’t accept it,” I said with as much cold detachment as I could muster.

  And, if I may be so bold, I’m a man who organizes the rise and fall of kingdoms in his spare time. I exude cold detachment the way poor people excrete children and excuses.

  The gathered onlookers backed away from me as the very light around me grew dim. I took another puff from my cigarette then flicked it into the city street while I smiled up the Chorus. “It is time for the people to know the new power in Dynasty City.”

  “Who are you?” the seven voices called out together.

  Rather than answering, I raised my right fist, palm up, then slowly opened my fingers. In response, all the nearby shadows coalesced into tangible, inky-black pools, awaiting my command. Suddenly, I clenched my fist and the street of Dynasty City erupted into chaos.

  Cars and trucks exploded upwards, flying through the sky as columns of shadows erupted beneath them. The makeshift projectiles launched skyward in a display of sudden, and violent, power.

  My power.

  The Greek Chorus flew into action, trying to dodge and catch the vehicles with the civilians inside. Using the distraction, I raised my left hand, thrusting it forward. In response, tendrils of tangible blackness lashed outwards from every nearby shadow-filled crevice. The extensions of my will latched onto three of the heroes.

  I jerked my hands back like a mad puppeteer destroying his toys. Mu, Nu, and Upsilon, gripped by my shadow-manifested will, were flung through the air and smashed into nearby office buildings. Shards of broken glass and debris rained down onto the street below.

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw Gamma and Eta trying to flank me. Gamma unleashed a swirling blast of flame while Eta, contrasting her partner, sent arctic-like cold at me. Well, as the venerable Mr. Miyagi said, the best way to block something is to not be there. I stepped back into the alley and literally melted into the shadows as the forces of nature collided in a shower of steam.

  “Where did he go?” Tau and Iota said in unison.

  “We do not see him here,” Gamma and Eta said by the alley mouth.

  “Because you’re not looking hard enough,” I said, reaching through the shadows, pulling Gamma into the darkness with me.

  “Gamma!” Eta screamed, reaching for her ally, but her hands only met the hard stone of the alley. As she touched the rough brick of the alley, she, and the rest of the Chorus, screamed in pain. Eta’s hands went to her temples as she backed away from the shadowy wall of the alley.

  As I postulated, once one of the Chorus was separated from the rest of the collective, the remaining members would share the pain of loss. I reemerged from the shadows, scaring Eta.

  “Boo.”

  She swung at my head, but I willed my being to become insubstantial. Her fist swung through my misty form, hitting only concrete.

  “Tsk tsk,” I mocked her, willing the darkness of the alley to bind Eta in bands of blackness. The surprised hero fought back bravely, but she was swiftly smothered in a writhing mass of swirling shadows. Deprived of air, she passed out and fell to the ground, lying still. The shadows obeyed my command and dragged the unconscious hero into the darkness. From the streets, I heard screaming, the crunching of metal, and the shattering of glass.

  Peering out from the alley’s mouth, I saw what happens when the psychic feedback of a lost hive mind hits the rest of the collective. Better still, poor Gamma seemed to be the one who granted his companions the gift of flight, while Eta was the source of their invulnerability.

  Delicious.

  Mu, Nu, and Upsilon, recovering from where I threw them into the office buildings, leaped to the sky, only for their powers to fail them just as Iota and Tau plummeted downward with them. Falling prey to the laws of gravity, with no superhuman level of invincibility to protect them, the Greek Chorus were little more than human stains.

  Iota pancaked into the pavement with a sickening splat. I saw bone poking through his uniform with several rather messy compound fractures.

  “You might want to put some ice on that,” I offered, walking past the bloody body. I briefly paused. “OK, I have to know.”

  I pulled up the waistband of Iota’s pants and peered down. With a satisfied nod, I let the hero’s costume snap back into place. “Stuffing. I knew it.”

  The people in the streets screamed in horror as it rained heroes. Upsilon dropped like a rock near the alley, smashing a hotdog cart in a spray of hot water and wieners. And that wasn’t just ketchup splattered everywhere.

  Ooh, spicy mustard. Tasty.

  Mu and Nu tried to link hands and create an updraft of heated air and wind to buffet their fall.

  “Sorry kids, not today,” I said with a smirk while reaching out with shadow lashes once again. With a twist of my body, my shadows mimicked the movement, whipping Mu and Nu through the plate-glass window of a street-level independent bookstore and coffee shop.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I know small businesses are the backbone of the economy. Well, let’s be honest, no they’re not. Estimated tax practices, health care provisos and whatnot, make it almost impossible to succeed unless you’re a mega-corporation the way God intended it. But, you know . . . reading is fundamental and all that.”

  Tau flattened an audacious sports car while the owner—a pot-bellied, balding, middle-aged man (naturally)—screamed out.

  “Is that your car?” I asked, walking over to him.

  “Yes,” the man said, looking at the destruction.

  “Hope you have insurance,” I said, picking up Tau’s wrist and feeling for a pulse. Satisfied that she was dead, I turned and swung a hard fist at the man with the sports car, breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground.

  “A sports car? Really? Look at you. Who are you trying to impress? I know you probably told yourself it was a gift from you to you, because you earned it. But really you’re just lying. You want, for once in your sad life, to feel powerful.” I paused for a moment and reflected. I knelt down next to the man, balancing on the balls of my feet with my elbows on my knees.

  “Powerful people, like me, don’t get sports cars. Well, that’s not true—I have an amazing one, but that’s not the point. The point is the powerful, like me, are not defined by what we own, but what we do. And we do, because we are powerful. We remove that which stands in our way. We adap
t to situations and succeed regardless.”

  I grabbed the man by his throat and stood, lifting him with me. “I am powerful, and you are not. Maybe you and Ms. SUV Trophy-Tits over there should get together,” I said, pointing with my other hand across the street to the woman who started this whole thing.

  With a small heave, I threw the man across the street at the SUV woman. The two of them collided, falling in a heap of middle-aged desperation.

  “Sir,” Sophia’s voice came in my ear.

  “Yes?”

  “Other than berating forty-year olds for their life choices and flattening a few heroes, what impact have you made? Sure, you have some issues to work out, that’s understandable. But if you’re going to start up your operations there, you aren’t exactly demonstrating pants-crapping terror and awe.”

  I wanted to scold my assistant and future killer for her candor.

  But Sophia had a point.

  Smiling, I raised my arms. Shadow wings sprouted from my back, and I rose slowly into the air. “See me, people of Dynasty City,” I announced, causing the street to grow dark as my shadows spread across the city block. Shadow spikes and tendrils lashed out in random directions, smashing cars, shattering windows, and destroying concrete. I floated above the people, seeing only the glow of cell phones as the peasants below recorded their new god with their portable, IQ-reducing idiot machines.

  “LOOK UPON ME AND TREMBLE,” I bellowed, augmenting my voice so that my words reverberated across the city streets below. “I LAID LOW THE CHORUS BECAUSE I COULD. I DO THIS NOW, BECAUSE I CAN. I AM THE NEW POWER IN THIS CITY. BRING ME YOUR VILLAINS SO THAT I MIGHT EMPOWER THEM TO DO AS I DO. THROUGH ME, WITH MY VISION AND SCOPE, YOUR PATHETIC HEROES WILL BE ERADICATED!”

  “Who are you?” a voice cried out from the darkness.

  Just as I knew someone would. You don’t make an entrance like that without someone wanting to know who you are. Sigh. It’s almost too easy sometimes.

  “I? I AM THE SHADOW MASTER!”