Origins of a D-List Supervillain

by Jim Bernheimer

Eddie pulled a small bag out from under his table, while I wrestled with my new moral dilemma. “I already have your fee ready, Mechani-CAL. Get your plasma torch ready and get back with me and we’ll do this again.”

  I took the bag from him and dropped it in my cargo box, not even bothering to open it. In this, I could trust him. He couldn’t carry anything in his lightning form, so I was kind of necessary for his next set of jobs since Seawall and his band of miserable goobers were out of action.

  “Nice doing business with you, Mr. Pulsive. See you in a few.”

  That’s when the wall across from me exploded. On the other side was The Discus and She Dozer.

  “You two are coming with us!” Discus said.

  “Activate shields! Power to weapon systems! Bring flight systems to standby,” I ordered and spun to face them. K-Otica and Spirit Staff broke through the north door and Eyelash came out of the room dragging a struggling Sally in her ocular whips. The woman held a stick in her hand and one of the bags from the bank glowed.

  They must’ve hit up The Grand Vizier or Mystigal for a tracking spell.

  “Guardians!” Eddie hissed after shifting to his form. “I’m gonna enjoy this!”

  All the power died in the warehouse and, from what my scanners could tell, the surrounding blocks.

  “They’re boxing you in Eddie,” I warned. “They cut the power to the area.”

  “Who wants to die first?” Eddie said and made globes of energy in his hands. I was tracking Dozer and the Discus, guessing my cohort would go after K-Octica and her beau. Eddie didn’t like to be beaten, especially by a woman.

  I fired first, because someone had to and I really didn’t care for stupid posturing. Discus shielded most of it, but it still was enough to send him backward. Dozer hurled a crate at me, and I smashed it with my fist rather than wasting energy on it.

  Eddie’s globes of power sped toward the other two Gulf Coasties. Spirit Staff stepped in front to block them, but he never had to. Instead, the balls stopped short and simply disappeared. I spun and looked at Pulsive, but he was just as stunned as I was.

  “We brought a friend, scum,” She-Dozer said. “Why don’t you come on in and introduce yourself?”

  Helping Discus come back through the hole I’d sent him out was a man standing about six five and built like a Greek God, literally. The large Z drawn with lightning bolts on his costume left no doubt who we were dealing with.

  Zeus! We are so screwed!

  Eddie lost whatever remained of his sanity and started throwing everything but the kitchen sink at the Olympian. Zeus swatted it aside like Eddie was shooting nerf toys at him. With a wave of his hands, Zeus froze Eddie like a high-voltage statue.

  Near panic, myself, I threw everything I had at him. My blasts were a little more effective than Eddie’s nerf bolts. It might have amounted to a slap on the face or a really good noogie, but I wasn’t sticking around for it.

  “Activate jets!”

  About the only thing I could be grateful for when the Olympian turned on me was that his blast knocked me farther away from him. It still cost me almost half my shielding. My jets sent me careening through the back wall with K-Otica in pursuit.

  The Olympian couldn’t fly and none of the other Gulf Coast Guardians could either, so my continued freedom hinged on being able to out fly her...and the helicopters converging on the area from all directions. There were six in all and they weren’t police choppers either. I had either National Guard or regular US Army Apaches coming after me. Four of them were coming in from the waterfront, determined to prevent me from doing my patented “swim away” escape. In the distance, two coast guard cutters circled, daring me to try them after running the Apache gauntlet.

  That had been my first thought, but now I had to abandon it.

  The lead copter’s chain gun started spitting out munitions and I dived low and headed back toward the city. Their firepower outclassed me, but if they wanted to use it, I’d make them do it over a populated area.

  K-Otica barred my way, floating with a wide smile on her face, and I realized that I’d have to go through her. Assuming she was at her peak, she was faster than I was and her energy bolts were stronger, but I had shields and she didn’t.

  An absolutely stupid plan, formed in my head. Vicky would say that those were my best kind.

  “Divert weapon power to shields,” I said and turned toward her. “Maximum acceleration.”

  The woman flexed backward and unleashed her concussive energy; I only made quick course corrections that kept me from the worst of it. Only twenty feet separated us when she caught on to what I might be doing. She tried to go vertical, but I was at my top speed and she had only just started accelerating.

  I angled up slightly and rammed the superhero. Her hand glowed and she tried to bring her power to bear, but I reacted first.

  “Taser charge! Taser charge!”

  Twin jolts of energy stunned the injured woman and she collapsed like a rag doll in my arms.

  I held onto my newfound hostage and turned to face the helicopters, daring them to open fire. They seemed suddenly reluctant.

  “Shields at fourteen percent. Structural integrity at eighty-one percent. Weapons at six percent.”

  Engaging my external speakers and transmitting on police bands, I said. “K-Otica and I are going for a little trip. I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have, but that’s on you fellows.”

  With that, I turned northwest and headed toward Baton Rouge.

  • • •

  Thirty minutes later, my hostage came to. Her pained screams were the first thing I noted.

  “How badly are you hurt?” I asked and slowed down. I’d gone down to the tree line to avoid pursuit.

  “Ribs are killing me. I don’t think they’re broken, but they’re definitely bruised.” I could see her thinking about trying her powers and elevated by another fifty feet.

  “If you’re not at full power, I’ll probably drop you. It’s about eight stories down right now. Sorry about the ribs. Didn’t really have much choice.”

  “You always have a choice,” she muttered. “You just keep making the wrong ones.”

  “Probably,” I agreed and watched her smooth her skirt and try not to look like she was checking for her communicator. “Not much we can do about it now. I ditched your tech on the outskirts of New Orleans.”

  “What are you going to do with me? Dump me in the swamp?”

  “According to my maps, there’s a fire station three miles up the road. I was going to drop you there and get my ass out of here before your friends show.”

  “You won’t get away,” she said. “Eventually, you’ll slip up and get caught just like your buddy back there.”

  “Hopefully not anytime soon and Eddie’s a world class douchebag. Maybe you fine, upstanding people can figure out how to hold onto him this time. It’s just my opinion, but society would be better off if you could.”

  Karina seemed somewhat surprised by my statement and couldn’t think of a comeback to it.

  As we approached the fire station, I asked, “You’re not going to try anything funny when I put you down?”

  She said she wouldn’t. Instead, she tried when I was only about ten feet off the ground. I got a nice face full of pretty colors, but not much else. Her temperamental powers must give her fits.

  Even with the visor, I was still blinking it off when I unceremoniously dumped her on the ground. The money I’d gotten from Eddie was still there, but all of it and then some would be consumed by repairs to my suit.

  Grimacing in pain, she looked up at me from the ground and stood while some of the firefighters who’d been polishing their engine came around for a better look.

  “You got lucky this time, Mechanical.”

  “Mechani-CAL,” I said slowly to correct her. “At least make an effort to say my name right, Karina. Gotta run. I’m sure these strapping young men can look after your injuries. See you around sometime.”
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  • • •

  “I got you a present!” Vicky walked into the bunker in the side of the mountain where I was working, two weeks after the debacle with the Gulf Coasters, and announced herself.

  “Hey, V,” I said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes and sore everything else! Gimme a minute or two to finish up this one. How’s work been treating you?”

  One of the bots was powered up and my “helper” for the day. I’d tried doing the installations in the armor, but the connectors were too difficult to manipulate in the suit.

  “It was a good week. One of my plans was put into motion and the results have been favorable. How’s the refit going?”

  “We probably have about three hours left,” I answered. “And a crap ton of old plasma rifles. Got any idea what you’re going to do with them.”

  She laughed and said. “I like your mercenary attitude, but they’re spoken for. I believe they’re being sold to a rebel group in Central Africa. Good thing I brought some reading material along with your really, really cool gift.”

  “Quit teasing,” I chided her and watched as she set a couple of her trashy romance novels on the desk.

  “You know you love it, Cal. I heard your tops on the Gulf Coaster’s Most Wanted list. Congrats.”

  “It’s a dubious honor, at best. They’ve been on a tear lately and have caught most everyone else. Hell, I think Rodentia is number three and when he’s high up on someone’s list; they must be scraping the bottom of the barrel. More importantly, am I still on top of your Most Wanted list?”

  “Maybe,” she said, playfully. “Then again, you might be on the bottom if I decide to be on top.”

  I laughed and finished attaching the connectors. The panel would get sealed up later. There was flirting to be done.

  “All right beautiful,” I said standing up and stretching, before closing the distance between us. “You have my undivided attention.”

  She started to fish around in her bag before I stopped her. “I want a kiss first.”

  “You’re just a big softy, aren’t you, Mr. Stringel?”

  “Only around you,” I said and heard Bobby’s voice in the back of my head. Damn, Cal, you got it bad!

  After kissing for few minutes, she pushed me back. “If we keep going, you won’t have the energy to properly thank me for your gift later.”

  “All right, whatcha got?”

  She pulled out a thumbdrive and handed it to me. I connected it to the bunker’s system and opened it up. “Drawings? Let’s see what they...holy shit! Is that what I think it is?”

  “Joseph got his greedy little paws on Patterson’s Direct Neural Interface; don’t ask me how. I convinced him to let me have a copy of the schematics and that the one you build would be better than any that those turdburgulars who work for him could do.”

  “Wow! No more voice commands.” I’d heard rumors that Patterson’s people had finally developed one, but there it was in front of me like the Holy Grail of human to computer interaction.

  She grinned. “Just think and the suit responds. You’ll have to wire up your old armor when you give it to me, but I thought this would make the perfect start to your Mark Two. Unless you don’t want it?”

  “Do you know how much I love you right now?”

  Her lips froze in the middle of what she was about to say. “Wait! Did you just say...”

  “I guess, I did,” I confessed. I’d been planning on a way to tell her in some grand fashion, watching fireworks or something like that. In the middle of a bunker filled with robots for witnesses and the scent of machine oil in the air hadn’t really occurred to me.

  Then again, we kind of have an unconventional relationship.

  “Well, then, I guess I love you, too,” she said, practically glowing. “Cal, before we do anything else, turn off the robot. It’s kind of creepy.”

  I’ve never issued a shutdown command faster in my life.

  My estimate of three hours to finish the installation was off considerably, but Vicky didn’t have me around for my excellent time keeping skills.

  Life was good.

  Chapter Twelve

  The False Promise of a Better Tomorrow

  The end of the pilot upgrade program was celebrated at the Branson estate with considerable fanfare, or at least as much expensive takeout food and two people relaxing in a hot tub could account for. Unfortunately, the money wasn’t there for the follow-on phase and I would have to wait for the next year’s budget. On the plus side, I’d already been to the other three bunkers that were slated to be upgraded next and had a good idea of what I was up against.

  “So, when do you start working on the Mark II? Or are you going to add to your resume of being the most wanted villain in the American southeast?”

  I kept massaging her shoulders and said, “The money from your boss will let me finance the new suit without having to rob a bunch of banks. I think I’ll lay low for a bit rather than press my luck. Let ‘em think I’ve gone into retirement or something so they let their guard down. That’s when I’ll bust out my new armor and open a can of whup-ass!”

  Vicki laughed and said, “Don’t forget to upgrade my armor.”

  “Actually, I was thinking that I might build you a new suit from scratch and simplify things.”

  She turned her head and gave me an interrogating look. “Are you saying the suit is too complex for me?”

  “No. I’m saying that integrating that direct neural interface with the current controls on the Mark I would really be a pain in the ass. After all this time in it, I know where I made a bunch of mistakes.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, there are redundant circuits that I built into the armor that have never had to be used. Also, I really screwed the pooch when it came to power distribution throughout the whole upper half of the armor. Looking back, I could make that same suit better, and for less money than before. It’s helping me with the design of my new armor. I think the question really is do you want that old thing, or how about I set you up with a custom build especially for you?”

  Her silence made me wonder if I said the wrong thing. I was this close to panicking when I saw the expression on her face. Vicky’s smiling face had been replaced by what I’ve come to call her “all business face.” It was something I only saw on the times when we were talking as employer and employee instead of boyfriend and girlfriend.

  “How much of a cost savings are you talking about, Cal?”

  I stopped massaging and scratched my chin. “Twenty-five or thirty percent. Maybe more if I substitute my power capacitors for the cell that runs the weaponry. It would also depend on the quality material I use and what your performance expectations are. So are you going to tell me what’s going on in that diabolically, beautiful mind of yours?”

  Looking very pleased with herself, she said, “As you might have heard, I am on something of a hot streak lately and I have got a decent amount of pull right now.”

  “Go on,” I said as she pivoted to face me and slung her arms around my neck.

  “What if, instead of another run of pulse cannons, I talk the boss into letting you build him a platoon of low-cost Mark I powersuits? You’re right about the limitations of the Pummeler suits. I think I can get Joseph and the boss to approve your design as long as you keep the markup within reason; say no more than twenty percent.”

  “Twenty?” I asked. “Isn’t this the part where you try and haggle me down to ten and we settle for something around fifteen?”

  Her smile returned, more radiant than ever. “I can sell the boss on twenty and maybe a year or so after you deliver the suits, I’ll put in my two weeks, and then you and I trade your junkyard in for a nice villa in Belize or Costa Rica. I hear it’s very nice down there. How’s that sound?”

  It sounded pretty damn good. Like some kind of hybrid of an accountant and an engineer, I ran the numbers. Six or seven suits in a squad and two squads in a platoon meant at least a dozen.

  Twen
ty percent on that is more than I’ve made in all my bank robberies! That would make me filthy, stinking rich!

  “Do you think we could pull it off?” I asked, daring to hope.

  “If you can make it, I can sell it. Now, here’s my question, could you just walk away from all of this? You’ve been obsessed with Lazarus Patterson. We leave the country and you might never get your revenge on him.”

  The question made me stop and think. My little threat to Barton sent Promethia’s forces scrambling. I’d probably cost them a pretty penny. Their little schemes had made me forfeit my twenties. I’d left Patterson’s employ to become rich and I was now poised to become wealthier than I’d ever imagined and had a woman by my side who cared deeply for me. Unlike Patterson, who trades his latest fling in when the shine begins to wear off, I wanted to see where this went.

  “Yeah, I could let it go. Not for the money, or Costa Rica, but I’d walk away for you.”

  Smooth, Cal Stringel, very smooth.

  It was obviously the right choice of words from Vicky’s perspective. After several long kisses, she whispered in my ear, “Good. We have a plan now. I still want your old armor, because it belongs to you, just like we belong together.”

  Apparently, I’m not the only one with the right moves today.

  The world was a crazy place where a perky criminal mastermind and a powersuit wearing schmuck could find each other, but that was fine by me. The two of us had the beginnings of an exit strategy and the start of something I never thought I’d get.

  Looking back, I should’ve known better.

  • • •

  Over the course of the next nine months, I fell into a pattern that left me little time for anything else. I’d alternate days working on the designs for the streamlined Mark I suit and building my Mark II. Life was good; hell, I even did karaoke with Tweedledum, sometimes. The Mighty Biz would have cringed at our rendition of Just a Friend, but I thought our version of You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling was rather catchy.

  Vicky listened to us do it live on my thirty-first birthday and asked if I knew the reason I was the one playing the drums in my past bands—wench! Loveable wench, that was true, but still a wench.