Wearing the Cape: Villains Inc.

by Harmon, Marion G.

  “Relax, kid,” Fisher said. “If anything does go down, we’ll have plenty of warning.” He watched our progress on his e-pad link to the DSA helicopter high overhead.

  I forced myself to look away from Leavitt. “Fisher?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why can’t you die?”

  “Because I’m a fictional character.”

  “What?” I’d expected him to tell me what kind of weird breakthrough he was.

  “I’m the main character of the Max Fisher series. Only three books ever got published, around fifteen years before the Event. Obscure hard-boiled detective fiction about a hard drinking, hard smoking, cynical Chicago detective who grew up an orphan on the mean streets. Main characters don’t die.”

  I stared, but he stayed focused on the e-pad. “How…how is that possible?”

  “Don’t know, but all of my memories before entering the police academy eight years ago are fake.”

  “Where’s the author? Could you be him?”

  He looked up, chuckling. “You’re wasted at the Dome. Nope. Vernon Wilder died of a heart condition from complications of his drinking and diabetes six years ago. And the series never had a fan club, so I doubt I’m just a Big Fan. Vernon probably created me out of a breakthrough-fueled obsession before he died. According to Dr. Cornelius, I’m probably a self-propagating thought form, a sustained projection.”

  And I’d thought Shelly had existential problems. “So you really can’t die?”

  “Hell kid, I can’t even change. I don’t shave and always have five o’clock shadow. And I never even thought about it till the day I took three slugs to the chest. Mob hit, long story, but no witnesses except the hitter—and he looked real surprised when I sat up and shot back. The last thing he said was it wasn’t fair.”

  I must have looked completely wigged, because he patted my knee.

  “Don’t worry about it, kid. It doesn’t make me reckless—getting killed hurts, and if it ever happens in front of the wrong witnesses I’m off the force.”

  That hadn’t been my worry. The wagon slowed and stopped for a traffic light. I hadn’t been hearing any cars around us other than our convoy, which meant the rolling police barricades were working. Our route avoided all residential areas, so this early in the morning the streets would be nearly empty anyway.

  “And don’t worry about the other half of the plan,” he said. “Blackstone’s got Team Two, and he knows what he’s doing.”

  Did telling someone not to worry ever work? I didn’t say it. Besides, with Seven in DSA gear and driving the wagon, what could go wrong? Oh, just everything.

  We were almost to the airport when Villain-X opened his burning eyes.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  When preparing an ambush, estimate the strength of your target. Then overprepare. Never bring “just enough to handle it.”

  Lei Zi, On Superhuman Combat: Strategy and Tactics.

  * * *

  I screamed like a girl. Someday Dispatch is going to release The Greatest Screams of Astra the Girl Wonder on ViewTube. When Seven hit the brakes, I kicked the unlatched doors open and threw Fisher out onto the hood of the tail-car.

  “Team One, Villain-X is awake!” I shouted in my earbug. A grinding crash up ahead preempted my concern. Peeking over the top of the paddywagon, I watched a truly huge armored robot unfold from inside a truck-trailer shell. Straightening, it stood at least three stories tall.

  “Astra?” Seven responded. “I think you should focus on our guest.”

  In the wagon, Villain-X popped his Blacklock titanium restraints like they were ordinary policeman’s cuffs and started working on the cage. Watching his brightening infrared signature, I started giggling. “Guys? He’s been repossessed.”

  “Understood,” Lei Zi said dryly. “He’s your job, Astra; we have more incoming.”

  “So are we,” Galatea sang out. The yellow flare of her jet-boots lit the dark sky as she dropped from the DSA helicopter. Above her, I could see the gold sparkle of Variforce’s field morphing into hang-glider wings as he descended more slowly.

  “Flash Mob, fifteen, maybe twenty dupes closing on our position,” Platoon reported. “Two unidentified villains.”

  “Platoon, defense perimeter,” Lei Zi called. “Seven and Quin inside. Variforce and Iron Jack on Tin Man. Galatea, reserve.”

  Automatic fire erupted as our ten-man Platoon bailed out of the escort vehicles and opened up on Flash Mob’s psychotic screaming dupes. A bone-grinding scream ripped the air. “New villains identified,” Platoon said. “Shriek: focused sonic attack. Swarm: micro-particle cloud form, toxic attack.”

  “Astra? Update?” Lei Zi asked. Titanium bars screamed in protest as Villain-X twisted them. He laughed at me.

  “Villain-X will be in the open momentarily,” I said, gripping Malleus (Latin for hammer; Shell’s insistent suggestion, and I couldn’t think of a better name for Ajax’ weapon).

  “Do what you can.”

  Both the restraints and the cage had been rated for Villain-X’s known strength; his demon-possessed strength was a different story, but we hadn’t counted on Hecate’s demons repossessing him remotely. What else could go wrong?

  The air filled with rotting carrion stench as a flesh-shrouded, iron clawed Devourer twisted into existence above the street.

  “Oh, come on!”

  Lei Zi saw it. “Galatea, target the demon—light it up! Team Two, you are clear to go!”

  Galatea’s missile-launch filled the air with smoking trails, but Villain-X occupied my attention as the stressed bars gave up and he lunged out of the wagon. I swung and knocked him to the street. He bounced up and ducked under my back-swing, still laughing. Using my swing for spin, I kicked him in the head.

  It didn’t slow him down, but he grabbed me from the front. Big mistake—his brains had to be cooking. I threw us down, shattered pavement flying as I landed on him and thrust with my knees. He let go as I pinned him against the street, screamed, and swung.

  The crunch ran up my arm and he went limp, boneless. Dead? I couldn’t hear a heartbeat over the avalanching explosions and auto-fire, but at least he was out. Launching myself, I scanned the field. Dad pounded on the giant robot’s legs while Variforce, surrounded by glowing layers of articulated force-field armor, scaled the thing to shatter plates with a force-field jackhammer. Lei Zi threw ball-lightning at Flash Mob, and everyone else seemed on it. For a micro-second, I worried about what Team Two was facing. Focus.

  “I’m clear!” I called.

  Then Shriek’s sonic attack howled and Variforce’ golden armor disintegrated, ground away. “Down to six,” Platoon announced as he fell back. Flash Mob’s duplicates attacked like killing was the most fun they could have in their brief existences. Shredded by Galatea’s missiles, the Devourer wailed but didn’t stop as it reached for Fisher. He stood in the street, calmly firing back with no effect. Could a projection kill a projection? Up the street, The Harlequin disappeared inside a human-shaped particle cloud. A second scream pounded the DSA car Lei Zi crouched behind.

  “Report, Astra,” Dispatch cut in. “Lei Zi is down; do we have a Charley Foxtrot?”

  Charley Foxtrot; the polite term for what the military called an engagement screwed up beyond all recognition.

  “I—” How should I know? What could I do?

  “… Charley Foxtrot!” I confirmed, diving for the Devourer. We needed Team Two.

  “Charley Foxtrot,” Dispatch said. “Stand by for Team Two redeploy—”

  “Wait!” I shouted. Four figures dressed in blue fatigues appeared on the street in a flare of light. One leaped into the air, and another threw a ball of crackling energy—at Shriek. The flyer rammed into Tin Man.

  “Abort Foxtrot!” I shouted. “Seven, help Quin. Iron Jack, support Variforce—”

  “My field is stabilizing,” Variforce cut in.

  “Iron Jack, stay on Tin Man! Variforce, with me! Galatea, backup Platoon. Fisher! Run!”
/>   I hit the Devourer with the paddywagon.

  Penetration missiles hadn’t done much, but ten tons of armored truck pinned it to the street and its ululating scream pounded my ears. The fuel tank ruptured, drowning its rotten stink in gas fumes. Variforce dropped down beside me, riding a jet turbine of shaped golden fields.

  “Can you restrain it?” I yelled, watching it struggle to pull itself out from under the truck.

  He laughed. “No worries.” His fields folded, expanded, became a web that wound about the thing, a net that ignored its slicing claws to bind its uncountable limbs and gas-soaked skin shrouds. Out of its reach, Fisher stopped to watch. He lit up, took a deep draw, and flipped the cig, end over end, onto the writhing creature. The flash of combustive explosion fluttered my cape.

  The wash of heat brought me to my senses. Why was everyone listening to me?

  “Astra,” The Harlequin reported. “Swarm couldn’t penetrate my rubberized skin. Seven froze his cloud with a field extinguisher.”

  “Great! What do I do?”

  “Keep directing—you’re the only one who can see the whole fight!”

  I looked around frantically. Paper to scissors to rock… “Seven, engage Flash Mob. Quin, please help Lei Zi. Variform, keep the Devourer down.”

  “Got it!” “Roger!” “On it!” came back. With the help of those four unknowns, we were winning.

  Then Villain-X hit me again.

  * * *

  So, not dead, I thought fuzzily. I’d lost Mallius somewhere, and floated in the free-fall feeling of flying a perfect ballistic arc. I opened my eyes when we accelerated, and found myself staring into Villain-X’s maniacal grin. The skin on his face had started to darken and crack, nothing human looked back at me, and he Wouldn’t. Stop. Laughing.

  I looked “up,” realized we were racing for the ground, pushed back, and then pulled, spinning us around our mutual center of rotation an instant before my world disappeared again.

  I opened my eyes again and blinked away concrete and plaster dust. Predawn light filtered down to show me a showroom floor crowded with shiny new boats.

  Joy. I hope they’re insured.

  Nerve-shredding laughter erupted beneath me. Villain-X opened his eyes, portals into Hell, and screamed at me.

  Heavily insured.

  Somehow my mask had stayed on, and Lei Zi’s weak voice filtered through the screaming.

  “Astra. What is your condition?”

  “Busy!” I yelled. “He’s getting stronger!”

  “Get elevation, make sure he follows you.”

  “That won’t be a problem!” I hit him with the smashed engine-block beside his head. Repeatedly, while he lay there and screamed at me. My nerve broke when he reached for me, and I flew—not bothering to find our entrance-hole in my panic. Shaking bits of roofing off of me, I climbed.

  He climbed faster.

  No no no no no—

  He grabbed my ankle, and Galatea’s penetrator missiles lit him up, the blast throwing me across the sky. Shaking it off, I circled back around to track Villain-X as he fell, a falling star burning bright.

  “Astra! Catch!” Variforce called, and Mallius arced towards me, turning end over end. I reached out as it smacked into my hand, and threw myself down maul-first, following Villain-X’s fall and racing gravity to the ground. He cratered the street and then I hit him, the double shockwave throwing chunks of street and bouncing whole vehicles into the air. I absorbed the shock with perfect form and, rolling to my feet, leaped out of the hole. Beside me, the DSA tail-car came down in the middle of the Devourer’s burning remains.

  “Geez, kid.” Fisher climbed to his feet. “Did you get him?”

  “I—I don’t know,” I gasped, watching the smoking hole.

  I kept hold of my maul when he screamed out of the pit to hit me again. He headed for sky and took me with him, wrapping his arms around my waist. I should have been screaming; instead I shortened my grip and swung Malleus again and again.

  “What! Does! It! Take! To! Kill! You?”

  It took that, apparently—he let go and fell into the spreading flames of ground zero. I hovered, trying to breathe, and waited for him to get up. When he didn’t, I landed and forced myself to pull him out of the fire. And stared; he was cooling and the woogy sense of magic was gone.

  “Team Two reported!” Shelly called. “Hecate is dead!”

  “Astra, report,” Lei Zi said.

  “I—I’m… Villain-X is down,” I stammered, not believing it. The giggles came bubbling up. “I—I think he’s been dispossessed.”

  “Astra, repeat please?”

  “C-can’t!” My knees hit the street as I hugged myself, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Fisher looked on tolerantly as the world blurred with laughter tears, and when he lit up again I almost passed out.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  I love the Hollywood approach to reality. Ever heard of Jump? He and his friends gave us a hand when Villains Inc. was curb-stomping us, but they got written out of the movie. My epic win against Villain-X? Not so much. But The Sentinels: Villains Inc. was a blockbuster hit, and Terry got the details right in the documentary.

  Astra, The Chicago Interviews.

  * * *

  Seven gave me a hand up after I finished laughing like a loon. Luckily—and we would never, ever, figure out how much of that luck was Seven’s—the entrance of our four mystery men had turned the fight; it wrapped up pretty quickly after Villain-X got up for his second act. Our battlefield looked like it had received the best care army artillery could deliver; not a single DSA car was upright and intact, power poles burned up and down the street and a blown-up transformer told me where Lei Zi had drawn her power. The giant robot lay in pieces across the road.

  The Devourer still burned in its multi-car pyre, and I wondered if I’d set a record for the most supersized potholes in one fight. Flames leaped from the roof of the boat dealership. I was very glad that streets (layers of asphalt over sand, dirt, and tunnels) were soft targets, but I was getting hard on Chicago businesses.

  Seven grinned. “Any fight you can walk away from, right?”

  I giggled. “I think that’s any landing you can walk away from.”

  “Whatever. C’mon.” He turned me around, and Fisher fell into step on my left side as we walked around the bonfire to where the lead cars had stopped. The familiar music of sirens sounded restful after all the shooting. Quin knelt working on a sitting Platoon. Dad moved cars out of the street while Shell worked on the giant robot’s head, and I sighed in relief. Flash Mob’s dupes had vanished, and I couldn’t see the other villains unless Swarm was the pile of black dust Variforce and a couple of Platoons were sweeping into a steel chest.

  “So how much paperwork is this going to generate?” Seven asked Lei Zi. She rested with her back to an overturned DSA car.

  “And can I be excused?” I added plaintively. “I’ll get a doctor’s note.”

  She looked up. “Are you done?” She spoke louder than she had to, and blood trails ran from her ears and nose. “Because I can wait.”

  I flushed guiltily, but Seven shrugged. “We’re all still breathing, so it’s all good.”

  “Amen to that,” a new face said. One of the guys in blue fatigues. Well padded, with a comfortable face, he looked like anybody’s next-door-neighbor. “I’m Jump,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. I shook it automatically.

  “Extreme Solutions,” he said.

  “What?”

  “That’s us. Extreme Solutions. We contracted with friends of Mr. Early to ensure that certain problems were taken care of. When we learned you were transporting Sergeant Leavitt, we figured it would be a good place for his associates to come out in the open. Glad we were right.”

  “You’re supervillains?” I couldn’t believe it. “Do we have to fight you now?”

  He laughed cheerfully. “Hardly, ma’am. We’re contracted security specialists. Mercenaries, if you want to be blunt
. And we haven’t done anything illegal; we intervened to ameliorate a public hazard, as any good citizen should.”

  I looked at Lei Zi. She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon, but she nodded. And how did they know about this morning’s operation? She wasn’t asking, and I bit my tongue. A save was a save.

  “We appreciate the help,” she said, still talking loudly. “Will you be staying in Chicago now?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think so. Our sources tell us the problem has been resolved. Nice meeting you.” He gave a lazy half-salute and walked away.