“When is it going to be done?” Vicky asked. On the rare occasion she came to the junkyard, she’d become an ad hoc assistant. For obvious reasons, we usually met at the estate near Branson Missouri.
“Next week is when I probably start doing my shakedown runs. It’s got a solid ECM on it, so I shouldn’t have to skim the tree lines anymore out of fear of showing up on radar systems. My top speed is now around two hundred and fifty miles per hour.”
“Yes. Yes. I’ve heard it all before,” Vicky chuckled before lowering her voice an octave and trying to imitate me. “Three times the shielding of the original suit, fifty percent greater lifting capacity, thirty percent more armor coverage over the vital areas, improved scanning suite, and let’s not forget the icing on the cake, the twenty percent reduction in force blaster’s cycling time for increased firepower.”
“I guess I must say that a lot,” I observed.
“Maybe once or twice, but it’s all good. So, you decided on your first job in the new suit, yet? Preparing to storm the headquarters of the Gulf Coast Guardians perhaps?”
I spent a moment rolling my eyes at her before walking over to the large flatscreen mounted on the wall and bringing up some video footage. “See this?”
“It’s a truck weighing station,” she said and tried to sound serious. “It looks pretty difficult. Are you sure you can take it?”
“Do you want to hear my plan or not?”
“Sheesh! Just trying to have a little fun with you. Look at me, I’m a big stick in the mud,” she said with a mock pout.
I gave her my best “talk to the hand” gesture and said, “The stop is near Kingston, Tennessee.”
“Okay,” she said, slightly more interested. “Is it the Army base or Patterson’s robot assembly factory?”
“As if you have to ask?”
“Go on. I’m starting to like this.”
I figured she would. “Anyway, on the second Thursday of every month a Prometheia semi has to stop here on its way to the assembly plant. I figure that it’s either full of powercells or synthmuscle. Either one I would need for our platoon of suits, and it would drop our overhead and increase our profits.”
“Your plan has promise,” Vicky said in a thoughtful manner.
“So, I stun the driver and the worker, steal the truck and take it to a warehouse, unload it and then ditch it.”
“Don’t forget...”
“...to kill the GPS and check for one’s hidden in the cargo. Got it covered, Sunshine! If it’s full of synth, it’ll be enough to build our suits and keep this one running for the next decade. We both know the stuff that Devious and the Overlord make isn’t as good, no offense.”
“It’s not like I make it,” she said and shrugged.
“If it hurts Patterson and helps me, I’ll call it a win-win.”
“What about security?”
“There might be something, and the trailer, but the only people who would be in a semi full of robot components would be...”
She finished my statement, “...Someone who also makes robots and all those people are west of the Mississippi. They would try to steal it earlier. Okay, I’m sold. You have my blessing.”
“Is this the part where I kiss your ring?”
She examined her empty hand and said, “Call me crazy, but this woman don’t see no ring.”
What did she just say? Does she know?
In my usual eloquent manner I said, “Uh...”
“God, you’re so easy! Relax, boy toy—I’m not pushing you.”
She’s teasing me, but I’ve got to be cool. Vicky doesn’t know I do have a ring for her, but I’m not ready to give it to her, yet. I need a good answer...something witty. I know!
“Well, I haven’t had the chance to go out and steal you one, yet.”
Vicky returned to her mock pout. “So, I’m not worth buying a ring for?”
“Be honest, if I bought you a ring instead of stealing one, you’d think less of me.”
“Yeah, you’re right! I just wish I didn’t have to go to headquarters for this big pow-wow. I wanted to celebrate with you when you pulled your first job in the suit.”
I didn’t know where the Evil Overlord’s Omega Base was except that it was somewhere in the west. The dude has a pathological hatred of Lazarus Patterson that dwarfs my own. The clone armor that his clone developer builds for him is usually painted with Patterson’s latest schemes. More than once the Overlord has gone on a murder spree after initially pretending to be Ultraweapon.
It didn’t mean Vicky’s boss was better than me; he just had better toys.
“I’ll call you on Thursday night and let you know how it went.”
“You’d better,” she warned and finished gathering the schematics for my low cost powered armor into her portfolio. Finishing, she smiled at me. “These are like printing your own paycheck, Cal. We’re going to break the bank together!”
She paused and looked around. “I know I’m going to get on that plane and realize that I’ve left something important here.”
“Maybe you’re thinking about me?” I offered.
“No, I meant something useful,” she deadpanned.
“Harsh!”
“Aw, did the big bad supervillain get his wittle feelings hurt? Maybe Aphrodite over there can keep you company.”
She pointed at the old pinup that graced the workbench; of the Olympian Bobby gave me a few years back. Eternally Yours my ass!
I crossed my hands over my heart and said, “But she’s the only woman who could ever steal me away from you.”
“Sure,” she drawled. “That’s what I love about you; you have such a vivid imagination! Now, we’d better get going to the airport. I’m going to make us millionaires!”
• • •
A little over a week later, I was kicked back on the couch with a laptop connected to a SecureSat link speaking to Vicky and admiring my creation. Quite honestly, I couldn’t imagine me ever topping the Mark II. I was wearing some damn fine armor. Unlike my original suit, I could be in and out of it in only five minutes—a thing of sheer beauty.
“The job was so easy that I could have done it months ago with the Mark I. The most difficult part was unloading the tractor trailer. It’s going to take me three more trips to bring the rest of the stuff back, but I wanted to call you first and give you the good news.”
Her face in the browser window brightened at the news. “That’s awesome, Cal! So, don’t leave me hanging, what did you get, and how much of it did you get?”
“Well, among other things, I now have fifteen spools of synth, six class C cells, and what appears to be a prototype frame for a Warbot variant. The serial number indicates that it is a D309XA.”
Vicky wolf whistled and said, “Nice! That’s more than we need to wire up the whole platoon. My people would be interested in looking at that frame. Things are actually moving along here. That means I can probably slip away from all this tomorrow and come out for a quick celebration of your first job in the Mark II. Joseph looked over your designs and he gave his blessing. He is going to take me to his sit down with The Man himself on Tuesday morning to present the plan.”
Things are definitely going our way, I thought. “In that case, I shall prepare for your arrival. Are you coming here, or do you want me to meet you in Missouri?”
“Either,” she replied. “Which works better for you?”
“If you’re coming here, I can take my van back up to Tennessee tonight and pick up my next load.”
“Do your thing, loverboy. I’ll come to you.”
“All right then, I’ll catch a few hours of sleep and then get back on the road.”
“Drive safely, Cal. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Love you.”
“Love you, too, V.”
I looked over where I had arranged the Mark I suit. When she came down the steps it would be the first thing she saw. The armor was down on one knee and had its hand thrust forward with a small black box resting
on the palm. Sure, it was probably the cheesiest proposal ever, but for a pair of armor groupies like us, it worked.
Tomorrow, my life’s going to change!
• • •
“We’re interrupting the music for an important announcement. This is a breaking story from the Newswire service. Both Reuters and the Associated Press are reporting that the Olympians and the West Coast Guardians, supported by robotic assets of the military and Promethia, are at this time laying siege to what is widely believed to be the main base of the self-styled Evil Overlord. The base is located in an area near several prominent resorts in the Cascade Mountains. The governor of Washington State has declared a state of emergency and issued a shelter in place order for three of the counties in the affected area. All citizens are to remain off the streets and elements of the National Guard are currently manning checkpoints along all roads. Commercial and private air traffic into the Pacific Northwest is being diverted. Additionally, all planes and helicopters in both Oregon and Washington State have been grounded by the FAA. We are being advised at this time that the President will be speaking to the nation at the bottom of the hour. Stay tuned for more reports as this situation develops.”
My blood ran like ice through my veins and I found it difficult to breathe. Somehow, I eased the van off onto the side of the road and put it in park, not wanting to believe what I’d just heard. With my finger, I stabbed at the selector and cut over to the AM stations and started searching for a news station instead of the classic rock station I’d been listening to. It didn’t take too long to find one and I listened to the talking heads regurgitating the same information I’d just heard, but with their opinions interjected.
While the fools yammered on, I took stock of my situation and the options. I was still two and a half hours from my base. The Mark II was in the back of the U-Haul moving van I’d rented. I could abandon the van on the side of the road, but it would be discovered. Plus, I didn’t have the fuel to make it that distance. I’d always assumed Omega Base was in Nevada or Colorado. Washington State had never crossed my mind. Frantic, I checked my cellphone for any message from Vicky only to find nothing. I couldn’t even call her without the SecureSat link on my laptop.
The last time I’d been this lost was in the ambulance after the Bugler had thrashed me and I was strapped to a gurney under the watchful glare of a police officer as the EMTs tended to my injuries.
She’ll be okay! She’ll be okay!
A tap on the window brought me back into the present and I wondered how long I just been staring at my phone. A black state trooper was tapping on the window. Shaking out of my funk, I tried to clear my thoughts and rolled down the window.
“Is there a problem?” the man asked, slightly suspicious.
The gears in my mind struggled to turn and failed. I stared at him with probably the stupidest expression he’d ever seen.
“I said, is there a problem?” his head cocked to one side and I tried to shake the cobwebs from my mind.
Finally some words managed to tumble out of my mouth, “No...no officer. I just heard on the radio about that thing going on out west and I have...my girlfriend is out that way...hiking in the Cascades. I was trying to figure out how to get hold of her.”
He gave me a nod and a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’s fine. Just give it a few hours. Everyone and their brother who knows anyone out there is probably trying to call right now, so you’re probably not going to get through.”
“You’re right,” I said, praying that he was, but finding it conflicted with the growing sense of dread.
“All right, then,” the trooper said. “Take however long you need and focus on getting where you need to go in one piece. You won’t do your lady friend any favors if you get into an accident worrying about her.”
“I’ll do that, thank you.”
“Anytime, drive safely.”
As he walked back to his patrol car, I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d talked myself out of that one. One of the last things Vicky had told me was to drive safely as well and I wanted to believe that was a sign from above that she might be okay. Everything was spinning out of control and I was helpless to do a damn thing about it.
• • •
By the time I reached the junkyard, there were reports of a massive explosion that had rocked the site of the battle. It was strong enough to measure on the Richter scale and the people who pretend to know began wondering if it might stir up some of the dormant volcanos in the region.
I didn’t have to speculate. Someone, probably Overlord himself, blew up his base rather than let the secrets inside be captured.
As stupid as it sounded, I tried calling, anyway, while Tweedledum unloaded the U-Haul. When that didn’t work, I left an email in her VillainMail and sent the Wireless Wizard a rambling plea to let me know if she accesses her account. I even went to the forum where I first made contact with her and left a posting for her there.
Desperation can drive a man to do many things.
For hours I waited, trolling boards on both sides of the internet looking for any information I could find. I wasn’t alone. Everyone was searching for information. It was all the televisions would show. My mad scramble for anything connected to Vicky wore me down faster than any fight I’d ever been in, and somewhere around the eighth hour of continuing coverage, I collapsed into a fitful sleep.
When I woke up three hours later, I decided that if she got out and was still free; she’d try to make it to her place near Las Vegas. That’s where I would go. If she’d been captured, I’d need to be closer than I was now to bust her out of jail.
Extending the U-Haul through next week, I tanked up on both coffee and gas and hit the interstate. My suit was in the back and I had a remote control back there to activate Tweedledum in guard mode. I spent my time searching through the news stations as they faded in and out of the static. There were some survivors, but lots of bodies. Several sources were estimating that the recovery effort would take weeks.
Naturally, Patterson, his team of pet assholes, and his butt buddies, the Olympians, all survived. Although, the presence of First Aid might have helped some of the others survive, so I’d give the world’s greatest paramedic a pass.
When I heard that smug bastard Ultraweapon speaking at a press conference, I shut the radio off for a solid hour. He had the perfect life and mine was crumbling. I didn’t give two shits about the money; probably one of the only times I could honestly say that. All I wanted was to see Vicky again and give her the ring in my pocket. I’d spent most of my adult life in pursuit of the bigger, better, paycheck and now it was the farthest thing from my mind.
Against my will, scenarios spawned in the back alleys of my mind, whispering the ways I could have stopped Vicky from boarding that plane. The rational part of me said that there was no way Vicky would have let me talk her out of going. Even giving her the ring would have only bought me maybe an extra day before she’d promised to come back early to celebrate. The drive became a haze of “shoulda, coulda, wouldas.”
Unfortunately, the rational part of me would have also realized what a long shot driving to Vegas was, so I’d ignored it for the most part and the recriminations lasted through most of Texas before I walked myself back from the crushing weight of my guilt.
• • •
My heart skipped a beat when I turned into her development. There was a mystery SUV in her driveway. As I pulled in front, I saw it had Oregon plates.
She’s alive! I dared to hope.
With no other thought able to pierce the fog of my delirium, I grabbed the key to her door and sprinted to the entrance. My left hand worked the doorbell as my right fumbled to jam the key into the lock. Bursting through the door, I shouted, “Vicky! I’m so glad you’re...”
“Who’s there?” A distinctly unVicky-like voice demanded with a hacking cough. “Hands where I can see them or I’ll shoot.”
The entryway was the only part that was lit. I could see a s
hape slouched in Vicky’s recliner. The overpowering smell of alcohol assaulted my sense of smell.
That was about the time I realized that my pulse pistol was still in the duffel bag in the passenger seat along with the remote to activate Tweedledum. Idiot!
“I’m Cal, a friend of Vicky’s,” I said, keeping my hands in the air.
“Stringel? Is that you?”
“Yes, and you are?”
There was a clatter as a pulse pistol dropped to the table and the hand fumbled in the darkness for a second and turned on the light.
My eyes adjusted and I saw a man in the chair. He looked awful. Where his left hand should’ve been was a mass of white gauze covering the stump. He looked like a person who’d been pulled out of a house fire and then resuscitated. At his feet were several empty bottles of liquor.
“It’s Joseph,” he said, realizing I didn’t recognize him.
Without the gun pointing at me, I relaxed enough to say, “Ducie? Are you okay? Is Vicky?”
“She was farther behind me in the escape tunnel. She didn’t make it. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he said slowly, driving a stake into my heart.
I slipped to the ground and stared at the carpet, letting the tears fall.
He gave me a couple of minutes before saying, “I know she cared about you. It probably doesn’t make you feel any better now, but you made her happy.”
“Thanks,” I choked out, and tried not to think of anything else at moment. “How about you? Is there a reliable doctor I can take you to?”
“No, I’ve got maybe two weeks left at the outside. I’d never go away from the base for more than seventy-two hours. The machinery there keeps me from aging rapidly and dying and there’s nothing else like it. It’s why we don’t have clones of everyone running around. I’m a...” he trailed off into a coughing fit before finishing, “high maintenance type.”
“Damn, that stinks.”
“Tell me about it. The only person we’ve seen so far who can make a stable clone is that Mexican who works for the Gulf Coasters and the process we have doesn’t work on super powered people for more than a few minutes. Ha! The Overlord can’t even clone himself!”
Origins of a D-List Supervillain Page 19
