by M. K. Gibson
********
“Leadership?! We need no leaders!” Lady Madness shouted from her seat. Thanks to her power of mind-influence, the black-and-white, normally silent killer clown to her left, The Mime, began screaming obscenities and attacking the walking nuclear reactor Atomica.
“Clearly, you do,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
The Mime was subdued by the Irish shaman Celtic Knot, who used his reality-bending magics to . . . well, bend The Mime into a bonebreaking new shape. Which was good for the group, as a rupture of Atomica might have resulted in an explosion that most of the assembled villains would not survive.
One would think a living atomic explosion would wear something more than a thin containment suit. That’s just poor logic. And another reason these sad bastards needed me.
“As I was saying, leadership, proper leadership, is the crux of this meeting. Too long have supervillains run rampant. Each one you is a respective power in your own way. That is the nature of villainy. To act alone or in small groups with constant infighting. Your temporary victories are fleeting. Which is why I, instead of normally guiding, mentoring, or advising villains, have decided to take a more proactive role.”
“What do you propose?” a female voice called out. “My group has been quite successful, and we don’t need the help of anyone else. But expanding our power is prudent.”
Once again, I had to check my seating chart and app. The speaker was a Hispanic woman named Eva Destruction. According to the app, she was the brawny yet brilliant leader of the all-female supervillain team Misdirection. Around her sat her crew: Ms. Chievous, Ms. Defy, Faye Tality, and Ms. Calculated.
“First, respect to the sisterhood.” I nodded to Eva while I pounded my fist twice over my heart. “But what I propose is aligning all the villains under a singular vision. Not in a micromanagement sense, mind you. You all would remain autonomous contractors. Think of it rather as a government. With small stipends of your gains paid back to the ruling body, the power base could, in theory, partner villains against heroes that complement the villains, tipping the scale of probability in the favor of us.”
“You’re proposing mass team-ups?” Eva asked.
“We’ve tried that!” said Old Guard, the grizzled time-traveling warrior from the thirty-first century. “Over and over we’ve tried.”
“You’ve tried, but independently. Tenuous relationships that yielded no gain other than short-sighted goals. No, proud warrior. I refer to a grander vision.”
“We’re listening,” Eva said.
“Excellent. First allow me to introduce a few people you may know.”
I tapped an activation device on my lectern, which retracted the curtain behind me, revealing a panel of five very powerful, infamous supervillains. The crowd grew deadly silent as my guests were revealed.
“Over the last couple of weeks, I managed to make contact with a few select supervillains. In that time, I pitched them my idea of a council of leaders. Negotiations were made, and our unified vision coalesced. While they need no introduction, we are putting on a presentation after all. So please put your hands, claws, tentacles, and general sticky fingers together for our esteemed guests, the newly formed leaders of the League of Evil. I give you the master of mental manipulation, Omni-Mind!”
The crowd applauded the powerful psychic as he stood and bowed his comically large head.
“Next I give you the mysterious teleporting mistress of mayhem, The Wanderer!”
Again, the crowd cheered. Apparently, The Wanderer was a fan favorite. She did hold a certain mystique with her blue skin, feminine curves, and devilish prehensile tail.
“The ruler of his own country, Dr. Oblivion!”
“Oblivion heard your mocking comments about advanced degrees. Oblivion is not pleased!” Dr. Oblivion said in the third person. The good doctor adjusted his gray cloak and crossed the arms of his green battle armor.
“Noted, Doctor,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. “Next up, Fallen Angel, the being of biblical proportions!” The half-angel, half-demon hybrid bowed her form in a flurry of blackened feathers.
“And last, but surely not least, Magus, the survivor of global atrocities, Alpha-level Variant, and premier warlock whom other worldly denizens fear!”
By this point the gathered villains were on their feet, hooves, mechanized boots or whatever they used for legs, screaming and applauding.
“Sit, sit, please,” I called out with a smile.
Taking a wireless microphone, I stepped down from my dais. I walked among the crowd of villains, shaking hands and patting backs. “I can tell you all are beginning to understand what a group of villains together, united, can do. I bring this council together, for you. For us. Imagine what an iron will, backed with the proper power and motivation, can do!”
Again, the audience cheered.
“I know!” said in excitement. “I can hardly stand it myself. These five diabolic paragons of power bring vast resources and decades of villainous experience. Plus a shit-ton of tech and doomsday devices!” I said with a quick, knowing elbow to a seated mad scientist.
The crowd was practically pissing themselves in joy. “I have to say, when I put on a show, I put on a goddamn show! But the best is still coming! The council of the League of Evil and I have worked on a little presentation. A step-by-step on exactly how we’re going to take down all the world’s heroes and conquer everyone and everything! Esteemed guests, if you would?”
The League of Evil stood and took center stage, waving to their cheering public.
“Trent,” I said into the microphone to the intern offstage. “Would you be so kind as to get the lights and run the presentation?”
“How, sir?” Trent’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
The League of Evil sighed.
“Sorry, folks. Henchers and interns, am I right?” I said with a chuckle. The crowd laughed and nodded, reflecting on their own incompetent henchers.
“Trent, there’s a laptop back there, offstage on the desk. Just double-click the program on the desktop labeled ‘League of Evil.’”
“Yes sir!”
“On with the show,” I said from the back of the auditorium.
Trent activated the program. On command, the meta-power inhibitor and ion force fields went up around the League of Evil. The cold-fusion micro-explosive under the dais went off a split second later.
The League of Evil had but a moment of surprise before they were turned into pink mist.
The force fields stopped most of the blast, as were their design. But also by design, the shields only held the initial dangerous blast. They dropped afterward, allowing the secondary shockwave to ripple across the crowd, throwing them back while also flinging the remains of the League of Evil across the crowd.
In but a split second, the five most powerful villains in the world were dead. The room was in shock and silent as a tomb. From offstage, I heard Trent babbling incoherently.
Ahh. Showmanship.
“Allow me a moment of indulgence,” I said, breaking the silence.
Walking down the center aisle, back towards the dais, I addressed the room. “You see, Aristotle postulated that there were really only three forms of government. A tyranny, an oligarchy, or a democracy. Well, under democracy, mob rules. Under mob mentality, things like fast food, YouTube personalities, and pop music rule. And I believe we can all agree, that is atrocious.”
I paused to spit on my thumb and wipe clean the bloodied visor of Tectonic, the Human Earthquake. “There you go, chief.”
I continued walking down the aisle. “As I was saying, the second form is the oligarchy. But that means a very limited group of powerful people (ahem . . . the rich) rule. Which was what I proposed to the . . . uh, former League of Evil.
“Naturally, they jumped at that. Any why? Because deep down each of them knew the same truth that I did. The only way to rule successfully, as Aristotle postulated, is under the rule of one. A tyranny.
; “The League came together, as tyrants do, to complete their goals. But then they would turn on one another, to include me, when the time was right. So I just cut out the boring middle part and jumped to the end. And before you ask, no, I did not steal this move from Game of Throne’s ‘Red Wedding.’ I stole it from the same place ol’ ‘Railroad Martin’ stole it from, the Black Dinner of Scotland in 1440. Look it up.”
I walked up to the dais through the remains of the League of Evil and took center stage. “Here are the facts. Do as I command, and my rule will be a benevolent dictatorship. Do not, and it will be a tyranny. Now, it may seem like I’m giving you a choice, but let’s be honest, there is no choice. I am Jackson Blackwell. I am the Shadow Master. You will be contacted in turn for your new orders and assignments.”
I walked to the very edge of the stage. “Shadow Master, out.”
I dropped the mic and walked off the stage.
Superhero Fun Fact #4
In Green Lantern #54, Green Lantern Kyle Rayner came home to discover his girlfriend Alex DeWitt was killed by Major Force and her body was stuffed into his fridge.
This led to writer Gail Simone helping to create Women In Refrigerators, a website dedicated to pointing out how often hurting women was used to further comic plot. Stupid men.
Chapter Twelve
Where I Defeat a Caped Crusader Via Paperwork and Have an Argument
Having dismissed the trembling Trent for the evening, I lit a black cigarette and poured myself an expensive scotch. I took a sip, then poured a second glass and set it across my desk. I put my feet up and kicked back a little bit, just letting my mind wander.
“You seem to be doing well, sir,” Sophia said over my intercom.
“It appears so.”
“Something troubling you, sir?”
“Something is always troubling me, Sophia,” I said. “It lets me know I’m doing my job correctly and haven’t gotten complacent.”
“I can tell something is eating at you though.”
“Something is.”
“What?”
“We can discuss it later. I’m expecting company at the moment.”
“Who?”
The lights in my office shut off, casting everything in near darkness. Only the small LEDs that illuminated my trophy displays provided any light.
“Oh, him.” Sophia’s voice came through, switching to my earpiece instead of the intercom. “I didn’t expect him for a while.”
“After today’s little show, it was basically a summoning,” I murmured.
When the lights came back on, a man in black leather was perched in the corner of my office. He wore a yellow crescent moon symbol on his chest, a three-quarter cowl, and a cape. I couldn’t see his eyes past the luminescent, opaque white lenses of his cowl, but there were few in the comic realms who didn’t know the Night Watchman.
The master detective, combatant, tactician, and warlock spread his own brutal brand of justice through the crime-riddled streets of Far Haven. The Night Watchman was not only a legend, but also one of the founding members of the elite superhero team the Sovereign Seven. Those particular heroes would be an issue down the road due to their vast power.
Which was why I had invited The Night Watchman, indirectly, for a meeting. I pushed the second glass of scotch to the edge of the desk.
“I’ve been waiting on you,” I said, sitting back and lighting another black cigarette.
“I highly doubt that,” The Night Watchman growled, the white eyes of his mask narrowing.
“Believe what you wish,” I said with a smirk. Obviously this was going to be a mind game before the physicality started.
“It was simply a matter of time until you showed up,” I said. “Your agency wasn’t even the first I went through. I had several interns I had to eliminate until they stopped sending me any, then I switched to yours. And after poor Ruth and Bryan, I was almost worried you wouldn’t show. But here you are,” then added, “Trent.”
The Watchman narrowed his eyes even further, refusing to respond. “Or should I say Malcolm Flynn. CEO of Flynn Enterprises, billionaire playboy, philanthropist, and orphan. So, how are those dead parents working out for you? Fueling your need for vigilante justice?”
In a flash, The Watchman threw a crescent-moon-shaped boomerang at my head. The shadows around me sprang up, solidifying into a protective shield. The boomerang exploded in a bright flash, forcing me to close my eyes. The intense light banished my shadows, and before I knew it, the Watchman was behind me, his strong arm wrapped around my throat as he applied a rear-naked choke.
“Tricky,” I gasped.
“Jackson, are you there?” Lydia’s voice came over my intercom.
What? Now?
“I--I wanted to talk,” Lydia said. “I know you’re a proud man, but. . . I don’t know. I just wanted to you to know I’m not trying to change you, but rather, we can grow together. Does that make sense?”
“Kinda . . . busy,” I gasped through The Watchman’s chokehold. “You mind?” I asked the Watchman.
The Watchman said nothing. He heaved his body weight down, slamming my head onto my own desk, cracking the wood.
“Arrogant punks like you only understand fear and force. Too cowardly to get your hands dirty,” The Watchman said as he pulled me up, only to slam my head onto the desk again.
“What’s going on?” Lydia asked. “Who’s that?”
Once the intense light of The Watchman’s boomerang dimmed, the shadows of my office returned. When they did, I grew insubstantial, and I slipped from his grasp and sank into the floor.
“Aww, looks like I struck a nerve with the dead parents bit,” I said, my voice echoing through my office.
“What dead parents? My parents are alive.”
“Not you, hon!” I yelled to Lydia. “Look, I’m in the middle of something. Can we talk later?”
“You’re putting work before me? Again?”
The Watchman began chanting an incantation. As my dossier on him read, when his parents were brutally murdered by a home invasion, young Malcolm dedicated himself to walking the edge between darkness and light. He pushed his mind and his body past the physical limits of a normal man. He learned the martial arts. He learned criminology, forensics, detective skills, and psychology.
And he studied the occult and the arcane. I mean, how else could a vigilante hero work day and night while appearing in every comic and franchise-saving movie?
And to think, there are those who believe he doesn’t have superpowers.
Idiots.
When The Night Watchman finished his spell, my body was expelled from the shadows. “You have limitations,” he said swinging hard for my head.
I sidestepped the punch and connected with a left-handed open palm strike to his ear, perforating his eardrum and knocking his equilibrium off. I spun, lashing out with my right leg, sweeping his and knocking him to the ground.
With the brief pause to the battle, I yelled over my shoulder at the intercom. “I’m not putting work before you! This guy snuck into my domain.”
The Watchman did a kip-up and was on his feet in a flash. He squared off with me as we took a measure of one another.
“And you’re not from this world, are you?” The Night Watchman asked as he feigned a left, threw a right jab and threw himself backwards into a flip kick meant for my chin.
“No,” I said, blocking the jab on my forearm while pivoting at an angle, dodging the kick. I was actually enjoying the banter along with the workout.
“Snuck in?” Lydia asked. I could hear the snark in her voice. “No one can sneak into your lair unless you want them there. Let me guess, you’re showing off, but intentionally losing and luring them into a believing they have a position of power over you.”
“That was why you needed me to activate the program and kill the League of Evil!” The Night Watchman said, then dove into a roll, catching my thigh and taking me to the ground.
“You’re not helping,
hon!” I managed to gasp out before I was taken to the ground.
“I wasn’t trying,” Lydia said. “And I’m sure he needed help with a computer program. He can’t even manage the apps on his phone. I’m not even from a dimension with phones and even I picked it up. It’s intuitive for a reason.”
I ignored my beloved. I still had one of the world’s best combatants to contend with. I bucked my hips and twisted, forcing the bigger man off me.
I dove onto his back, reaching for his wrist while trying to position my legs for an arm bar. The Watchman anticipated my attack, balled up and rolled away, putting space between us.
“I have to ask, you liked it a little, didn’t you? Killing them,” I taunted as stepped into a lunging kick, which the Watchman blocked. I followed it with a left cross, then a right reverse-spinning elbow to his temple.
Lydia laughed. “Villain taunts? Really?”
“If you’re not from here, then you have weaknesses I can exploit,” Watchman said, shaking his head.
“Go for his legs. They are not his best feature.”
Moving faster than I thought possible, the Watchman grabbed my arm, pulling down while sweeping my leg.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome!”
The impact to the ground nearly separated my shoulder. I kicked up with both feet, putting the toe of my left shoe into his opaque eyes, my right into his teeth.
“Argh,” the Watchman grunted in pain. I rolled backwards, reassessing the situation.
Godly skills and enhancements aside, I worked out regularly and attended multiple martial arts classes. And no matter what Lydia said, I did not skip leg day. Genetics have just been slightly cruel to me.
But I knew that even with my skills, when it came to martial prowess, the Night Watchman was unbeatable.
So I did what I always did. Bent the rules to my benefit. Poor Watchman. He only had an inkling of who I was. Well, I figured it was time to show him.
