The Supervillain and Me

by Danielle Banas

  A man in a suit and tie approached one of the workers. His bald head caught the light from one of the flashlights. He was built a little like a boulder—short, but as hard as a rock. The buttons of his shirt stretched over his muscular chest. He cupped his hand over the man’s ear, muttered something, then carried on his way with his hands behind his back. He reached the end of the assembly line and turned around. Seeing the familiar handlebar mustache, I gasped.

  “I know him, I know him,” I whispered. “That’s my dad’s security advisor. His name’s Wallace.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. “Positive.” I’d recognize that furry caterpillar on his face anywhere.

  “Security,” Iron Phantom mused. “Let’s see how secure he’s keeping those microchips.” He stepped away from our hideout. “I’m going in. Stay here.”

  “What? No way.” I wouldn’t let him drag me out here just to leave me standing in the woods. Absolutely not.

  “Unless you learned how to teleport this afternoon and didn’t tell me, you’re staying here. You’re not risking your safety,” he hissed, eyes flashing dangerously.

  “Steve—”

  “No. I’ll be right back, I’m stealing one of those chips.”

  I bit back a retort, but it didn’t matter. I blinked and he was gone. If I squinted enough, I could just pick out the curve of his shoulder hiding behind a dark sedan. Teleportation or not, I didn’t see how he would get close enough to swipe a chip. There were too many people around, and if memory served me right, Wallace had eyes like a hawk.

  “You have five minutes to get those crates into the truck!” Wallace announced. He walked over to a semitruck parked next to the warehouse and greeted the driver. Iron Phantom took the opportunity to sneak into the building.

  “This is ridiculous,” I muttered. Leaving the safety of the trees, I crept down the hill. Immediately I stepped on a particularly crunchy leaf. I froze in my tracks. I counted slowly from ten, waiting for a shout or the glow of a flashlight to signal my cover was blown.

  Three … two … one …

  Nothing.

  I reached the riverbank with no further complications. Iron Phantom hadn’t come out yet. I scanned the inside of the warehouse, looking into the shadows—anywhere a super could find a good hiding spot.

  I jumped back when the men and women filed out, carrying crates toward the truck. Should I try to steal a chip? I didn’t see Iron Phantom, and this could be our only chance to find out what these things really were. My arm flinched, fingers begging me to reach out, trip the woman with the perfect bun on the crown of her head, and take the crate. I could do it. I wasn’t a super, but I could be one just this once. I could save the day if I just reached a little farther.…

  The woman stepped away from my hiding spot on the side of the building. Slumping against the wall, my fingers fell to my side. This superhero thing was a lot harder than I thought.

  Slowly, I edged around the doorframe. Only one person remained inside. A skinny man wearing an oversized lab coat fumbled with the final crate, and a few of the chips rattled on a metal tray.

  “Drat,” the man grunted, wiping his brow. I could see his hands shaking in the moonlight filtering through cracks in the roof.

  How did I approach this? Did I announce myself? Smack him on the head with something? My dad and brother always taught me how to avoid people, never how to confront them.

  Finally, placing a lid on the crate, he turned to leave. His breath caught when he spotted me standing just inside the door, still deciding whether to run in fear or punch him in the face.

  “A super,” he whispered, clutching the crate to his chest.

  I tilted my head, confused. What? Then I remembered. The mask.

  “You—you’re a super,” he said again.

  “Uh…”

  “Actually, you’re mistaken,” Iron Phantom called from atop a ceiling beam. He teleported in front of the man and cracked his knuckles. “She’s not a super.” He flashed the guy a wide grin. “But I am.”

  When the man’s face paled and he let out a nervous squeak, I almost felt bad. Almost.

  “Whatcha got there?” Iron Phantom moved toward the crate.

  “Wallace,” the man tried to yell out, but his voice reached only a whisper.

  “Nope, not Wallace. I just want to see. Give me one of those chips, and I won’t throw my elbow into your temple.”

  Way to be persuasive.

  I took a few steps across the floor. “Is that really necessary?” Iron Phantom had never displayed any type of violent tendencies before—at least not ones that I was privy to. Seeing him this way, shoulders stiff, ready to strike, shocked me.

  “W-Wallace!” the guy screeched. “Wallace! It’s him!”

  “Goddamn,” Iron Phantom groaned. A flash of a fist. The man crumpled to the ground.

  “What did you do?” My voice shook. I thought he would just steal a chip and get out, not hurt anyone in the process.

  “I didn’t kill him. He’ll live.” Likely not without a concussion was what he failed to mention. A punch from a super must have hurt like hell.

  Iron Phantom was busy collecting the chips that had scattered across the ground when three gunshots echoed outside the warehouse. A scream tore through my throat. Wallace, along with two other men, ran into the building. Ducking into the shadows under a ladder, I found a long plank of wood. Light enough to lift, but heavy enough to hopefully do some damage. I didn’t want to do this—injure someone. But the crate of microchips lay abandoned at the center of the floor, Iron Phantom hidden in another patch of shadows kitty-corner to me. We hadn’t come this far to leave empty-handed.

  A warm breath crested over my ears as Iron Phantom appeared behind me. “So I’m thinking I’ll be the distraction while you snatch the chips,” he whispered.

  We watched Wallace prowl toward the unconscious man. He picked up a stray chip, rubbing it between the fingers of his left hand while he held his gun steady in his right.

  Iron Phantom patted my shoulder before vanishing, and then his voice was in my head. Give it all you got, Bazooka.

  He reappeared on one of the ceiling beams, whistling. Wallace and his two comrades looked up, distracted, leaving my path to the microchips clear.

  “This isn’t the venue I would have chosen for my criminal activities,” Iron Phantom said, looking around. “But I suppose there’s a certain charm to it.”

  Wallace responded by firing off two shots, but they pinged against the rusty walls, passing through air that hadn’t been empty two seconds ago.

  “Down here.” Iron Phantom stood in the farthest corner from the door, drawing Wallace a few steps closer to him and away from me. I crept out of my hiding spot, carrying my two-by-four. I was twenty feet away. Then ten.

  “So what are these things?” Iron Phantom asked, pacing along the wall. Wallace followed the super’s movements with his gun, but he didn’t shoot. “Because if it was something that could be bought in a grocery store, then I have a feeling you wouldn’t be pointing a gun at me.”

  “I’m pointing a gun at you because you’re a danger to society, you imbecile,” Wallace snapped.

  “Imbecile. Never been called that before. I’ll take it.”

  I was five feet away.

  Iron Phantom continued. “Those microchips of yours seem to be very valuable. Why is that?”

  Two feet away. I bent over, scooping up a handful of fallen chips and shoving them in my pocket.

  Take a few more, Iron Phantom said. I want to make sure we have enough.

  I did as he said, then straightened up.

  Three tiny microchips tumbled free of my pocket and scattered across the ground.

  “Crap,” I heard Iron Phantom say.

  Wallace’s men turned, weapons raised. I knew I didn’t have another option. Hurt or be hurt. Survival of the fittest. Hiking up my two-by-four, I spun in a half circle, smacking the man closest to me in the back. He fell to the
ground, chin cracking loudly when it met the concrete. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

  Wallace whirled at the commotion. “There are two of you?” he yelled. “Who are you?”

  I pretended my plank of wood was a lightsaber as I swung it near his face. “I’m your worst nightmare.” I’d always wanted to say that to someone. Unfortunately my voice wavered just enough for it to sound unconvincing.

  “I don’t think so.” Wallace chuckled and pointed his gun between my eyes.

  My two-by-four fell to the ground with a clatter.

  The world faded away. The barrel of the gun was all I could see. A black hole growing larger and larger, consuming my vision. The very thing I dreamt, the end of the nightmare that kept me awake for hours screaming. Here it was in stunning Technicolor. Like in my nightmares, I couldn’t find the strength to move. Wallace’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  Iron Phantom took out the third man with a swift kick to the head before materializing right behind Wallace. He wrapped one arm around Wallace’s neck, the other smashing his gun to the floor. Wallace squeezed his eyes shut and wailed at the sound of his wrist snapping.

  “Give me a reason,” Iron Phantom snarled. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck right now.”

  “I—p-please,” Wallace wheezed. He tried to throw a punch, but the bones of his wrist stuck out unnaturally, and the large man slumped against Iron Phantom’s chest in pain.

  “Not good enough.” Iron Phantom’s grip tightened. Wallace’s face turned purple.

  If I was a good person, I would have told him to stop. But tonight I didn’t feel like being a good person, not when Wallace had just come this close to putting a bullet in my brain.

  “What are those things?” Iron Phantom nodded to the half-empty crate at our feet. Wallace opened his mouth but couldn’t speak through Iron Phantom’s chokehold. “Tell me! Tell—”

  The three of us froze at a loud flap, flap, flap, flap coming from the sky. Lights shone down through a hole in the roof, illuminating the floor, putting us in full view of the helicopter in the air. A voice yelled from a speaker above, but it was impossible to hear over the drumming of the rotor blades. Or the sound of my heart pounding out of my chest.

  “You lucked out,” Iron Phantom said to Wallace. His fist reared back, ready to strike again. But before he could move, my plank of wood came crashing down on Wallace’s head. The board snapped in two, and Wallace hit the deck like a sack of potatoes.

  A good person would have felt sorry.

  I didn’t.

  “Did you really just knock him out with a chunk of wood?” Iron Phantom asked. Above us, a door on the side of the helicopter slid open and bodies began rappelling toward the ground. Iron Phantom held out his hand expectantly and wiggled his fingers.

  He didn’t look anxious to escape our new pursuers. A grin split across his face, excited and powerful and full of adrenaline. A nervous chuckle escaped my mouth. Then, suddenly, it was like a dam split open, and I couldn’t stop laughing.

  I took Iron Phantom’s hand. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I expected him to teleport me home, but home wasn’t where we ended up.

  A mad-scientist laboratory was.

  We appeared in the room a little after midnight, surrounded by humming machines and winking, colored lights. Iron Phantom swiped a stack of papers from a computer desk nearby, shoving them in one of the drawers and locking it before taking the microchips I’d collected off my hands. My heart beat a heavy rhythm in the back of my throat. We actually did it. I couldn’t believe we actually managed to steal the chips without getting caught … or killed. Forget landing the lead in the musical, tonight had to be my proudest accomplishment. A damn shame I couldn’t write villainous activities and superhero stealth on my résumé.

  I tugged the knot out of the ribbon at the back of my head and peeled my mask from my sweaty cheeks as I followed Iron Phantom across the floor. As fluorescent lights flickered to life, more machines emerged from the shadows. The back wall was covered in screens revealing security cameras in various sectors throughout the city. A large monitor showed the deserted entrance of the City Bank downtown. Another, on the far end, displayed the red tile floor of the Morriston High School lobby.

  “What is this place?” I asked, watching Iron Phantom carefully place a chip under a large microscope. If the countertops weren’t covered in computers or microscopes, they were obstructed by beeping metallic boxes with antennas and glass observation windows. Rows of red lasers scanned back and forth along an empty tray in some type of futuristic microwave. In the back corner sat a cylindrical MRI scanner, blue and yellow wires trailing onto the floor from its disabled body. If he told me he was building a flux capacitor in a DeLorean to take us back in time to 1985, I would have believed him.

  “All good supers have a secret lab,” Iron Phantom grunted. He turned a dial on the side of his microscope, his eye still pressed into the lens.

  Not Connor, I thought. My brother was lucky he could do long division; science wasn’t his thing. Of course, he wasn’t alone. I could comprehend what they taught us in school. But here, with Iron Phantom’s pinging computers and pulsing lasers, I was so out of my league.

  I spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. A small glass ball covered in clear spikes sat on top of a map of Morriston’s bus system. It looked like something belonging to a punk rock band, not a superhero. But it seemed innocuous enough … until the glass glowed bright blue as my hand moved closer. I quickly pulled back—you know, in case it electrocuted me or whatever.

  “That’s just a paperweight.” Iron Phantom laughed. “It changes color when it senses body heat. It doesn’t bite.”

  The glass turned yellow this time as my hand closed in. I backed up. It faded to clear.

  “And you can sit down if you want,” he continued, rolling a stool next to his workbench. I started to move forward but paused as soon as I noticed a wrought iron staircase curling upward on the other side of the room. Fancy flowered designs were twisted into the railings, far too decorative for just an ordinary laboratory.

  “Are we in a house? Is this—is this your house?” I took a step toward the stairs and the wooden door gleaming at the top. This was where Iron Phantom lived, it had to be. Upstairs there were surely more rooms and maybe photographs and possessions and—

  “Don’t go up there.” In a blink, he was blocking my view, his eyes wild but also a bit cautious. “Please don’t go up there.”

  “Why? Is that where you store all the dead bodies?”

  He wrapped a hand around my elbow and led me to the stool beside his workbench. He sat beside me, absentmindedly fiddling with a knob on his microscope.

  “Believe it or not, we’re not the only ones home,” he said. “So try to be quiet. I don’t want someone coming down here and seeing me dressed like…” He gestured to his suit.

  “Your family doesn’t know that you’re…?”

  “No. Not the family that’s upstairs anyway.”

  As he preoccupied himself with the microchips again, I couldn’t help but wonder who was upstairs. Isaac had mentioned once that he moved in with his uncle after his parents died, but was there anyone else? I kept waiting for him to tell me the truth—after what we’d just gone through it only seemed logical—but the words never came.

  “How do you know what you’re doing?” I asked, watching Iron Phantom pry one of the chips open with tweezers. His tongue poked between his lips.

  He patted the table with his palm, and a glass beaker shook in its holder. “A lot of this stuff used to belong to my parents. They were in love with science. They did experiments on everything, even on the perfect plant food to make my mom’s rosebushes grow.” He laughed, but the hint of moisture gathering near the corners of his eyes betrayed him.

  I decided to steer the conversation to something that didn’t involve parents—his or mine. “Why didn’t y
ou kill Wallace?” The morbid question made me flinch a little. “You could have, right? You looked like you knew what you were doing.”

  Iron Phantom hummed in agreement. “Yeah,” he said carefully. His tongue swiped over his teeth, tasting his words before deciding which to use. “But heroes don’t destroy things. They help. I want to help people.”

  I smiled, remembering Connor saying something similar after Iron Phantom set city hall on fire. My brother and I thought he was dangerous back then—we were afraid. Now I didn’t know how I could have been so wrong.

  “Did you want me to kill him?” he asked.

  For a moment, I did. That endless moment between Iron Phantom knocking the gun from Wallace’s hand and his frantic gasps for air. He tried to kill me. I wanted him to get what he deserved. But I knew how it felt to lose a family member. Surely Wallace had someone out there who cared about him. No matter what he almost did to me, it would have been a horrible crime to steal him away from them.

  “No.” I sighed. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Good. I didn’t want to either.” He reached for my hands, tracing his fingers along the lines in my palms. His lips were puckered and red and raw as he dragged them over his teeth. I scooted forward in my seat, my heart pattering against my ribs.

  As I glanced down at our fingers intertwined in his lap, I found myself unable to stop thinking of a different evening. His hands, covered in blood as he pushed his power into the young girl’s chest. What happened after wasn’t something I could have anticipated, but I still felt a sense of responsibility, the guilt weighing like a stone on my chest.

  “The other night…,” I began tentatively. “When I asked you to heal the girl outside the bank, I didn’t realize it would…”

  “Hurt me?” he finished, offering me a sad little smile. “Pretty ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Pretty sad is what I was thinking. I’m almost sorry I asked.”

  Iron Phantom’s eyes widened. “Don’t apologize. I knew what I was getting into.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked past me to the staircase at the opposite side of the room. “Powers don’t come without consequences. I can mend broken bones or close up cuts. I can take away pain. But when I take it away from someone, it has to go somewhere. So, as you noticed, it gets absorbed into me. For a period of time, I feel whatever they were feeling, no matter how painful.”