Gravitas: A Supervillain Story

by Ben Mason

  “You still have a thing for villains, I see.”

  “Stupid. I have a thing for you.” She moved closer, her lips grazing his ear. “I never stopped loving you.”

  Before he had a chance to respond, she ripped the belt straps from his chest. “Come on. We have to get John his daughter back.”

  Christoph stood up, his body screaming. If he had some power left, it was too little to feel. “I’m going to need some kind of medication then. Is there any in the cabin?” Searching they found a robust first aid kit. Black with a red cross because of course it was.

  The gauze was red as well, Christoph found out when John wrapped it around him like a mummy. “There,” John said, patting his midsection, pulling the shirt back down. “Your ribs are basically being held together with glue and paste. So are the vertebrae in your spine and the muscles and joints in your leg. When the drugs wear off, you’ll need something to bite on that isn’t your tongue.” He glanced at Siv, who had a few bandages on her hands and fingers, forehead, and shield arm.

  “At least yours match,” she said.

  “The beauty of wearing black.”

  “So where is this Moonbeam?” John asked, standing up. He had grabbed a few supplies and slipped them into the pockets of his vest and pants.

  Christoph checked the sky. “Not here. I’m not sure if we’re being listened to.”

  “Chris and I will take the front, you take the rear guard,” Siv said, adjusting her shield, trying to get it comfortable.

  “Why?”

  “Because this mysterious employer hasn’t gone out of his way to attack you,” she said, “And I’m going to bet he won’t start now.”

  John nodded and, pulling his firearm, started scanning the skies, letting the other two fall ahead.

  The mysterious employer.

  Christoph needed to tell them. Before we get to the Moonbeam. When I’m sure we aren’t being followed, he promised himself. It just wasn’t now. But soon. As he tried to decide when soon was, Siv whispered to him.

  “Chris, we need to talk. I’ve got questions,” she said. Her sea-green eyes of ice stared at him evenly. “And I think you have the answers.”

  Christoph took in a breath. They were in Selenium’s business district, an upscale place littered with homeless during the daytime begging for change from the elite. The smell was a mixture of stale odor attached to brilliant storefront facades.

  “Go on.”

  “Dominic came to you.”

  “He had nowhere else to go.”

  “Yeah, but how did he know you were alive? You didn’t reach out to anyone after you disappeared. The whole community assumed you died in some caper. A few of the elder members of the Watchers mourned your passing until I told them what had happened to you.”

  It took a moment for the meaning of her words to dawn on him. She must have read his face.

  “I had to pull strings before that to find out you were in custody. I pulled a few more to get them to give you the second deal.”

  Christoph nearly froze in his tracks. “You were the reason they sent me for the helmet?”

  “None of the council members of the Watchers were willing to go on such a political mission. I was sure you would. So I pointed Robert in that direction.” She gave a small smile. “Are you angry?”

  “No,” he said. Angry? She had given him back his freedom, given him peace for his final years. And he had squandered it, falling back into old habits. All of a sudden not telling her about Heat Streak seemed like a foolish matter of pride. He fiddled with his coat to give his hands some task.

  “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure if you were willing to reach out and tell me you were alive.”

  “If I had, would you have responded?”

  “Yes,” she said, studying the skyline, shield at the ready. Christoph did the same. No one lived long in the super community if they ignored their surroundings. “And then I’d have told you to be happy.”

  Ah. The brush-off. It was part of what had made Christoph first respect, then fall in love with her so many years ago. She had made a vow to another man, and she would have let him go again to keep it. “I’m sorry I didn’t choose you all those years ago.”

  For a moment her eyes came off the skyline and searched his face. “You mean it?”

  He gave a nod. “I stand by my choice, but I’m still sorry.”

  Shaking her head, Siv laughed. “No getting me off track. Back to my question. You didn’t tell anyone you had retired. And by then you and Dominic were persona non grata. How did he know where to reach you?”

  “My defenses must have dropped over the years once or twice.”

  “Fine. Then why did he come to you? You were under surveillance. Not around the clock, but it was a terrible choice if he was trying to hide from the government.”

  “He must have been desperate,” Christoph said. He was cutting corners faster, trying to get them across the blocks to the Crescent Climbs district where the Moonbeam was.

  “No. I’ve seen desperate. I’ve seen sorcerers feed their firstborn to interplanetary dark gods for power. I’ve seen brothers turn on each other for money owed to a mafia don. I’ve seen aliens fighting to purge Earth to save their families from a dying planet. Dominic wasn’t desperate. He was determined and worried, not desperate. I don’t think he understands the meaning of the word.”

  She moved closer, bumping her shoulder against his. “What are you hiding from me, Chris?”

  “I owed Dominic from when he helped me pull off a mission. It was after we had stopped talking to each other.”

  Coward. Lies by omission are still lies. A part of him tried to open his mouth and tell her more and he found he was unable to, as if an iron clamp had been locked around his jaw. Christoph felt light-headed. A part of him thought the fog was returning, or it had never left and it was getting harder to tell where it was. Or maybe it was the massive amount of injuries he had received combined with the drugs he used to ignore them. The last explanation was the most logical.

  He was fading like a ghost, dimming and diluting as he broke one rule after another. Breaking into another’s lair, using ill means to track down another villain, putting normal civilians in danger.

  Not lying to the woman he loved.

  Each one made him feel weaker, older. And now he was hunting down his former apprentice to turn him over to Murakawa for whatever plans the doctor had. Shaking off the gloom, he focused on the task at hand.

  “He’s desperate by now, having lost the hand. Do you still have your block against him?” Christoph asked.

  “You bet. I’m not letting that creep rove around in my mind,” she said, her fists squeezing tight. “Why?”

  “Because we’re almost there,” Christoph said. “And I think I have to face him alone.”

  Chapter 22

  The Moonbeam had been in business for as long as Selenium had existed. As long as there was a need for men to be governed by others there was also a need for those politicians to make corrupt deals and wash the taste of it out of their mouths with liquor.

  It had started before Christoph was born, a place made of wood. Then it was burned down in an “insurance accident” and the original owner fled town. Not because he had broken the law but because he had burned it while some patrons were still inside. A lack of consideration for his clientele was a bridge too far.

  The next iteration had been made out of brownstone, giving off a slightly aristocratic air and attracting all sorts of honorable men and women who wanted a stiff drink after a hard day of honest work. Needless to say, it was torn down swiftly.

  The last incarnation Christoph had seen raised up and even visited once before his distaste for politicians (who made most supervillains look like minor league minions) had driven him away. It was the perfect blend of functionality and gray tones with a layer of grime around the square building to throw off any unwanted attention. In its bowels it had a tunnel from more elite establishments so the captains of b
usiness and heads of state didn’t lose clout by being seen in such a scandalous place. Most, therefore, didn’t use the front door.

  Which didn’t stop Christoph from wishing he had a pair of gloves. He didn’t want to think about touching the same handle as a…senator.

  A block out he had forced John to lie back. Dominic had a greater range than one block and was capable of jumping gaps of up to half a mile, but there was a chance the pain and exhaustion had limited his reach. Christoph had asked Siv to stay with John.

  “Fine,” she had said, placing her shield on the ground. “But I’m not letting you walk in there without some protection.” She had chanted an edda (or so she said) giving him renewed vitality and strength. A little power resurrected itself in his chest. The lines around her face were harsher. The effort had obviously drained her.

  “Can you talk him into coming with us?” Siv asked. “I didn’t actually plan on handing him over.”

  “Neither did I,” Christoph said. “As for how he feels, I don’t know. I’ve never lost a hand before.”

  “If you don’t come out in half an hour, John and I are coming in.”

  “Done,” he said, taking in one last look of her. Then he pushed open the double doors and stepped inside.

  The lobby of the room was the same as ever, covered in shadows, the reception area mostly clean with a light sprinkling of dust and scratches on a fake cherrywood oval desk. The gentlemen’s bar for the aspiring cubicle dweller. The burly man in the black vest and white shirt sitting behind it didn’t make any move to stop Christoph as he moved past.

  As he moved past the next doors, the smell of expensive cigars hung in the air. Two rows of high-backed wooden booths with thick soundproofed curtains sat on either side. Frozen waiters were in the middle of putting trays on tables without observing the clients.

  Weaving past them, he tried to keep his steps light, tried to make no sound on the carpet. Thankfully, most of the men who came here didn’t want to draw attention, making it easy. Getting to the final door, he stopped. It was a large imposing brass number. There was a digital number lock, which had been disengaged.

  Barging in now meant violence. A villain who was being chased wasn’t going to assume you wanted to talk if you tried to and take him by surprise. On the other hand, if he announced his presence he was risking the chance of falling into a trap. His hand hovered over the knob. Did he trust Dominic? What a stupid question. Of course not.

  But he did owe him. Christoph owed him for failing as a teacher all those years ago. For not repaying his favor with a hiding place, but a missing limb. He opened and closed his mental block in one swift motion, like a door opening and slamming shut because of the wind.

  I’m here.

  Opening the knob as the block shut, he stepped inside. From his own experience and accounts he had heard the inner room was soundproofed with large Corinthian columns lining a circular room, a circular oak table with two padded ergonomic chairs on either side.

  It wasn’t what he saw. Above him, about one-third of their natural size, were the tops of Selenium’s largest buildings, pointing toward the ground, creating a sprawling maze as car horns and engines sounded in the distance. Stepping forward, he heard his feet make no noise. The stench of garbage was gone and in its place was a strange scent of peppermint Christoph found disorienting.

  “Like it?” Dominic’s voice said, more in his mind than from any direction. “It took me years to make. A mental tripwire in case I was backed into a corner. Severe mental trauma, plus an open mind to use it on.”

  Christoph cursed inwardly. He never should have tried to give the boy a warning. “We aren’t going to hand you over. You’ve read my thoughts,” he said, not making it a question. He started moving in one direction, trying to map out the city based on the reverse view he was stuck with.

  “Sure I have. You don’t want to hand me over, but like the sanctimonious shield bitch you will in a second if you have to. You love that little girl, the way you used to love me.”

  The words bit deep.

  “That is, if I don’t leave you here,” Dominic said as the buildings lowered another inch, the lightning rods sharp and threatening. “I could walk out, leave you a drooling mess. But I’m curious. How are you planning to stop Murakawa? He has decades’ worth of accumulated knowledge. Even I was never able to tap his mind. And it isn’t like you trust either the Dad or the One That Got Away. After all, you came here alone. So tell me, Gravitas, how are you going to do it?”

  Christoph’s blood froze. He hadn’t realized Dominic had gotten so much faster at reading minds. Were the unfocused eyes for show now? He quickened his pace. As he moved deeper into the streets, the checkered lights of illuminated rooms casting shadows on his face, he checked the door in his head. It was back in place.

  From the ground he started to see fog seeping at his feet. A knot coiled in his stomach. “The atmosphere is a nice touch. Trying to give an old man a heart attack,” he ventured, trying to throw the younger man off, trying to get him to gloat. Gloating led to bragging, and bragging led to capture (or exploded laser death rays).

  “It’s…it’s not me. You didn’t come in here alone. You lied.” Dominic’s voice was starting to panic now.

  “I didn’t!”

  “It’s starting to come near me. It wants to be paid. Christoph, help me!”

  “Dominic, tell me where you are.”

  “I’m not anywhere. We’re standing in the room. The trap is a mixture of our minds with me at the control switch.”

  “Then give me a path,” Christoph roared. The fog was swirling now, turning luminous green, growing thicker and harder around his ankles, dragging his feet as he tried to lengthen his stride. Above him the lights in the buildings started to snuff out, the streetlamps father above extinguishing street by street. The smell of peppermint started to sweeten until it turned cloying. The buildings started turning clockwise like the hands of a clock, the bricks and mortar ticking as they moved over and over again. Christoph ducked to dodge them, shifting to one side as they moved to crush him from the left and right. One clipped him on the shoulder, eliciting a grunt.

  “Get rid of the trap, Dominic.”

  “I can’t! The thing inside you is holding it in place.”

  Pushing down his anger, he surged forward. A huddled shadow started to emerge in the distance. Above it was a rolling wave of fog and hidden in its folds were two rows of endless teeth, opening to swallow whatever lay before it.

  “Chris!”

  “I’m too far away. Pull the plug, Dominic! Pull the—”

  “—plug!” Christoph yelled as he fell forward into the circular room. Blinking, trying to get his bearings, he stared. There were the marble Corinthian columns, ostentatious and expensive. The table was old oak, from at least the eighteenth century. And in the far chair sat Dominic, reminding Christoph of Pinocchio after all the magic had been taken and the strings cut.

  Making me an old fool like Geppetto.

  Walking over, he found it hard to believe Dominic was nearly twenty-five years younger. The man’s hair had turned white and new lines ran across his face in deep furrows. His muscled body was shivering. Staring up, the black eyes seemed brittle like cracked tea plates. “Chris. I barely got out because it was a shadow. It wasn’t the real thing. Chris, it promised me things,” he said, grabbing his forearm hard enough to leave bruises.

  “What did it promise you, Dominic?” Christoph said, forgetting about his mission.

  “It knew me, Chris. Knew I hated everyone.” He shivered again. “You walk around people and you read their thoughts. Even when you don’t want to. Like pebbles pelting your mind all the time. The dark fantasies, the sick revelations, the skeletons in the closet. Some of them so terrible…

  “Chris, there were men and women even I wasn’t willing to blackmail. People I gave up to the authorities.”

  Christoph leaned against the table, placing one hand on Dominic’s head. It explai
ned so much. The mistrust, the failure to hold to the code. So many failures, all stretching back to him. His failure as a teacher.

  “And the people you love, the normies. They want to kill us, too. Most of them would be the worst villains, Chris. No codes, no compass. Pure, vile evil. And in the decades of buried atrocities from the so-called Watchers, ask Ms. Moller how many payoffs they had to make because Light Beacon wasn’t willing to take no for an answer.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “Open your mind and I’ll show you,” he said, his eyes gaining a measure of their former strength his jaw setting.

  Hesitating, Christoph shook his head.

  Dominic’s face crumpled, tears coming to his eyes, weeping. “So many lies, all under the surface. All of them wearing masks.”

  Anger boiled up in Christoph. At himself. At Siv for lying to him. At Dominic for telling him the truth. He swept it aside. Weary as he was, there was a frozen world to fix and a child to save. Words he had never thought before and hoped to never think again, he mused, forcing a grim smile.

  “I’m sorry you held on to this for so long, Dominic. But I don’t understand what it has to do with any promise.”

  “Because it promised me power,” Dominic said, staring at the stump of his left hand. “It promised me the power to free them and watch it all burn.”

  Chapter 23

  It fell on Siv and John to carry Dominic into the well-lit tunnels below the Moonbeam. One of them opened into the Summit, a speakeasy for those who paid the obscene yearly membership. It was also right across from First Selenium Trust. They were halfway there when the doctor in John won out. Laying Dominic on the side of the curved wall, he examined him.

  “I’ve seen men’s hair go gray from combat-related stress, Chris,” John said, “But nothing like this. Worst case of shock I’ve ever seen.” He shook his head, his words echoing off the walls. At first they had been skittish until Dominic informed them they were soundproofed. “No point in having secretive tunnels if people can hear you using them,” he had said, trying to laugh. It had turned into a cough.