Horror, Humor, and Heroes

by Jim Bernheimer

  “What do we do now?” she asks.

  “I was hoping you’d know. Any idea where they have all the android and robot heroes in storage?”

  “I’ve got a few guesses. We’re still only two against the world.” She winces a bit. The side of her face that I pressed into the wall is going to have some nasty bruises.

  “Yeah, but those psi powers of yours, they aren’t just psychokinetic, right? You can do something similar to what those bugs do?”

  “Yes, except there’s only one of me.”

  “I can fix the cells and we can capture a few other supers. With you around, we might have a chance of rehabbing them quicker.”

  “You mean without the lies and mind games.”

  “Sorry about that. I use what tools I have available. If we get enough of us together, we should be able to come up with a master plan.” I try to make nice with her. I’m sort of sorry I put her through it, but only after the fact. If we do try to rehab some of the other supers, I’ll probably end up doing the same shit all over again.

  “So you want to open a detox clinic? You’re not exactly the nurturing type, trust me. Was I that much fun?”

  “No, but we need more firepower. And a chance to come up with some kind of free-the-world scheme. While I fix the cells, you rest up and think of who we should try to grab.”

  Stacy nods, “I’m going to need something to protect me when we’re up on the surface.”

  “We’ll, I’m no Lazarus Patterson, but I’ve been known to make a set of armor or two. I should be able to rig something that’ll keep the bugs out, give you flight and more protection, but still let you use your psi-bolts. It won’t necessarily be the prettiest set of armor.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Easy on the sarcasm there, Aphrodite.”

  She chokes on the glass of water I gave her to wash down the pills. “You called me Aphrodite.”

  “You started acting like a hero again. Wait here, I’ll get one of the spare rooms set up as a bedroom for you to use.”

  Just to be safe, I change the code on the keypad at the exit.

  Chapter 3

  Like I Need Another Reason to Invade Branson, Missouri

  We travel at night, a few hundred miles from “The Pig Sty.” Cloud cover is good, and we’re seeing whole sections of cities being converted into factories.

  Aphrodite’s armor is a hodgepodge of the previous Mark I and Mark II suits. Technically, it’s the Mark II point one. I was forced to leave it light on the synth-muscle, but her superhuman strength compensates for it. Since she already has her own mode of attack, I gave the suit a single force blaster for a backup weapon and reserved most of the energy in the suit for shielding and maneuverability.

  My com channel crackles to life. Aphrodite’s insistent voice is on the other end. “Okay where is it?”

  “It’s not like I come up here to the Ozarks all the time. They stopped using me as a supplier three years ago and these storage depots aren’t exactly meant to be found. It’s a cave on the side of a mountain. Frankly, I’m lucky I remembered which mountain I used to deliver pulse cannons to.”

  Forty-five minutes later we’re looking at a chamber full of inactive robot foot soldiers. My access code doesn’t work, but good old Paul, the guy who cut me as a supplier, never removed my deceased girlfriend’s code from the system. The robots are standard Type “A” fodder – the kind found in bases all over the world. It makes me wonder what poor son of a bitch got screwed out of his patents and designs for these robogrunts.

  “Now comes the fun part. Put your hand at the back of each head, start a power transfer to get the rudiments of its operating system up and then install our command rootkit in the var directory.”

  “These things run on Linux?”

  “Yeah, wouldn’t want to have to wait around while your security force finishes blue screening. Still, this version is pretty old. If we were going to keep them, I’d recommend we upgrade it to the newest distribution, but since these things are going to get destroyed anyway…”

  There’s a hint of malice in her voice. “You’re only programming them to attack the empty warehouses and to defend against super powered attackers.”

  “If I was Lazarus Patterson, would you be asking the same question?”

  “He’s not a criminal.”

  “That depends on your point of view. Try asking that to anyone who ever tried to patent their intellectual property after leaving his employment. What boggles my mind is how half the parts in these robots came from his factories and everyone believes he’s a saint.”

  “Bitter with envy isn’t a good look for you, Calvin. What about all those weapons that you built? I’m sure they never hurt anyone. Unlike you, he only sells to legitimate governments.”

  “…and turns a blind eye when they resell it. Exhibit A is lined up in rows in front of you.” Great, there’s no way I’m going to win this argument. She’s not only an Ultraweapon fangirl, she’s actually dated him.

  “Oh, so some people using his technology for crime completely wipes out all the good he’s ever done and, at the same time, it gives you carte blanche to excuse yourself for every gun you’ve ever built and sold in some back alley to a guy with no neck and a couple of dollars. You should listen to yourself sometime, hypocrite.”

  Tonight is looking like it’s going to be a long one. She’s more irritable when we’re outside and she’s locked inside her armor. I know she’s thinking about the bugs. There’s no one else to take it out on other than little old me.

  Wisely, I concede and change the subject. “Fine, you’re right. I’m a small-minded, petty criminal jealous of his success. Let’s just drop it. Who do you think we’re going to attract when we send these guys into the city?”

  “Hopefully, they’ll send some of the Olympians and we can grab one of my teammates.”

  I bite back my sarcasm and move on to the next robot. Aphrodite is looking to save her friends first. I’d prefer we start with a few mid-tier crime fighters rather than aiming for the proverbial brass ring. We actually discussed hunting down some of the bad guys, but odds were that we would end up fighting them as well. I’ll be the token bad guy on this team, thank you very much.

  There’s a lot I wouldn’t mind taking from here, but I’m limited by space – like going into a grocery store, where everything is free, but only getting one of those hand baskets that have to be carried instead of a shopping cart.

  “The sooner we get these bots reprogrammed, the sooner we’ll find out. Plus, there are a couple of spools of synth-muscle. I can finish wiring your armor up right.”

  “I still can’t believe that someone went to the trouble of hiding a robot army near Branson, Missouri. Why would anyone want to attack a vacation destination?”

  “You don’t think like a villain, probably a good thing. You could send them here to draw the military in this direction while you attack Fort Leonard Wood, or Whiteman Air Force Base, or pick any place nearby. Of course, there’s always the money in that city.”

  Stacy steps out from the row that she’s working on. It’s funny how she can make armor that I’ve worn for years, albeit with a few modifications, sexy. “It’s always about the money isn’t it?”

  “Usually, it’s the people with the money that are always screwing me over. But yeah, it’s about the money probably seventy-five percent of the time. This is taking longer than I’d thought. We might as well take a break.”

  “Why?”

  “At the rate we’re going, it’ll be almost morning before we finish and we won’t be rested. I’d rather attack in the evening and be able to use the darkness to escape. The rainclouds will also help cover us.”

  “Just when I thought that your base was the absolute worst pit on the planet, you bring me here. How exactly do you sleep in this contraption?”

  “Sit down and put your back against the wall. I’ve gotten used to it. There’s music and some movies on your hard drive, if you don’
t feel like chatting.” On a whim, I walk over to the small and lonely looking desk and pull open the drawers. A bitter laugh comes out of my mouth.

  “What are you doing?” Aphrodite walks up behind me and looks down. “It’s just a couple of trashy romance novels. What’s so important about them?”

  “They’re Vicky’s. She used to keep a supply of them around in these places when waiting for a delivery.”

  There’s a slight teasing in her voice. “Why Cal, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t. She’s dead. One of the bodies they pulled out of Omega Base.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to …”

  “Save it! I’m going offline to rest. I recommend you do the same.” I dismiss her, probably rudely, and break off communications.

  Even “D-List” supervillains have lives and things that once meant something to them. It isn’t always about the money.

  #

  I’ve never led an army of robots attacking a city. It’s a rush! No wonder people like Devious and Overlord get their jollies off of it. The arm mounted pulse cannons riddle the empty but pristine buildings with holes, turning it into Swiss cheese, and within a minute or two it becomes so much rubble as my minions move on to the next completely identical structure. A few hours of uninterrupted rest and some gratuitous mayhem can do wonders to improve my mood.

  Six factories later, I’m starting to get a bit bored when the first defenders finally show up. Response time is way down these days. Bullets start pinging off my armor and I spot several police officers. Calmly, I walk through the gunfire and arrive at the first officer while she reloads – no sense of preservation whatsoever. It’s sad, but right now, I’ve got the better drones. Just like pulling a tick off of the family hunting dog, I reach out with my hand and pull the thing off of her neck. Clenching my fist, it turns into a greasy smear in my gauntlet.

  The woman’s eyes become unfocused and she collapses in a screaming mess. I step over her as the others begin firing and turn on my external microphone. “Unit Two, kill their bugs.”

  Mentioning her name might bring way too many superheroes running, so we’ll play robots instead of people in armor. Her mental bolts start frying the insects. Some actually detach and start fleeing, leaving their hosts screaming. It’s tempting to gloat, but instead I divert a few of the robots and have them grab the discarded weapons. Just because Stacy didn’t attempt suicide doesn’t mean these guys and gals won’t.

  Behind the policemen are just regular people armed with whatever they could grab. This could get real ugly, real fast. Aphrodite’s bolts drop a bunch in their tracks as I do my best not to permanently injure them. “Save your energy. Let the suit do the work for you.”

  “But, I might hurt them,” she protests over our internal frequency.

  “You’ll need your strength when the supers get here. Don’t argue.”

  Long minutes pass and hundreds of bugs die along with people receiving assorted bruises and broken bones, but suddenly the throngs turn and begin to walk or crawl away in a most orderly fashion. That can only mean one thing.

  “Here they come!” Aphrodite gestures to the tiny flame in the otherwise misty night. It’s Apollo’s chariot and probably most of her old team.

  “All robots, attack the Olympians!” Wow! That sure does sound cheesy.

  My reluctant teammate calls out a warning, “Heads up, Hermes is coming in fast.”

  The speedster tears through a pack of slow moving drones, smashing them with her metal rod. The mud is slowing her down a little, but she’s making a beeline straight for me. I fire my pulse rifle at the ground separating us, spraying the wet earth in her way. A messy, muddy, and hopefully blind mass comes hurtling out of the plume of muck at high-speed, careening recklessly. I trigger the destruct sequence on the three nearest bots and let the shockwave knock her around a bit.

  There’s no time to waste and I lumber over to Hermes and snatch her into the air. She lashes out with her rod and I take dozens of hits on my helmet and chest piece. Her legs bludgeon me with jackhammer-like kicks. Fifty amp defensive jolt! We’re briefly illuminated in a flash. It won’t hurt the Olympian too much, but the bug on her is toast. Correction, make that bugs. There were three of them on her. That says loads about her metabolism.

  “Stacy! I got one. Knock her out!” It takes two shots before the Olympian stops struggling. I toss Hermes to the ground, because I have a bigger problem and his name is Ares.

  With my pulse rifle out of reach, thanks to Hermes, I hit him with my single force blaster. It barely slows the God of War down. Pulling my power sledge out, I meet him head on. The weapon’s force field flares on impact. Ares screams but lowers his shoulder and bowls me over. We wrestle for a moment. His fists pound into my suit. Even through the armor, I can feel it. He rips my sledge from my grasp and raises it up. I shove my left palm into his face. Fire force blaster!

  The sledge falls and I hit him with a right cross, while rerouting some of the remaining bots. I’m not the only one who’ll be hating life tomorrow. Of course, he’ll have much better drugs. Two robots blast him off of me and try to slow him down. He rips them to pieces, but it gives me the time to snatch the sledge off the ground and really clean his clock. I knock his ass at least twenty feet backwards.

  To my disbelief, he starts to get back up. Holy shit, he’s tough! I don’t have time to process it as darkness becomes light. Apollo’s fireball washes over me. Heat seeps through the cracks in my armor and I scream. I trigger my jetpack and dodge the second one. Landing, I grab my rifle. It still has enough charge for eight more shots, or I can overload it and chuck it at Apollo and Ares.

  I like that idea. Five seconds and a massive explosion later, Ares is down a second time and doesn’t look to be getting up. Apollo’s in bad shape too – worse after I shoot him, twice. Staggering forward, I see Aphrodite fighting with Hera and Athena. Hermes gets another shot from my force blaster, for good measure. Hera’s force fields keep stopping Stacy’s psi-bolts while Athena’s energy spears keep my partner in crime on the defensive.

  Hera will never let me get close enough to use my sledge. Just like those old cartoons, I get a light over my head. In this case, the light is attached to a long metal pole and seconds later that streetlight is ripped out of the ground. Sometimes technology is overrated.

  I pound away into the force field and allow Aphrodite a chance to go on the attack. “Quit screwing around and take her out.”

  “She’s my friend! I don’t want to hurt her.”

  I take a break from trying to bring down Hera’s protective sphere and shoot “her friend” in the back with my force blaster, knocking her to the ground. Stacy finally gets the message and lays some smackdown on her party buddy.

  Out of nearly two hundred drones, there are nine still functioning. My armor is a bit worse for wear after only a minute or two with Ares. Fortunately, I get to go back to the drawing board. I assign four robots to keep Hera entertained and the others to make sure that Apollo’s chariot won’t be able to fly anytime soon.

  “We can’t take Ares or Apollo. There’s no way the cells will hold them. Hera is going to take too long. It’s down to the speedster or the Goddess of Wisdom. Which one do we take?”

  “Both.”

  “Two? You were hard enough by yourself and you know how quickly the speedster is going to eat all our food.”

  “It won’t be a problem. I’ll take care of both of them. You won’t notice a thing.”

  Why do I feel like she’s asking me for two puppies instead of one?

  #

  Stacy comes in to the workshop on the morning of the third day after our raid. “Cal?”

  “Yes,” I stop winding the artificial muscles into progressively tighter bundles. The denser it is the better. My suit held up against Hermes, Ares, and Apollo, but just barely. The pulse rifle wasn’t all I hoped it would be and I’m addressing that.

  The good news is that Stacy has be
en nicer to me since we captured her friends. With her new “project,” she’s too busy to sit around and complain about how awful my base is.

  “I got a little distracted trying to talk sense into Holly and Kiesha ... well, um ... where do you keep the bucket?”

  I savor the look of frustration on her face. “Interface with the palm pad at the base of the steps, it’s in the closet there. How are you at installing toilets?”

  “How do you think? That’s the other reason I’m here. Gloating doesn’t suit you.”

  I finish off the strand of muscle that I was working on and grab my helmet. “I’m not gloating. I’m truly enjoying this.”

  “Look, I’ve barely had any sleep and the only thing keeping them from going batshit is my psionic powers. All I’m asking for is a little bit of help. Please?”