by Ben Bequer
I guess I envied that, or at least I saw it as a quality I had lacked all my life; that sense of purpose that drove me onward. Later, I’m sure they’d say that’s why I became a villain and not a hero. They’d analyze my every move and thought to find a reason for my choices, but the truth is that good or bad never meant anything to me. It didn’t mean anything to those society called “heroes” either. Then again, it wasn’t about what you labeled yourself, but how you behaved. And what I had seen of the world’s heroes had convinced me more and more that I had chosen correctly.
I had lathered up as best I could with the crappy bar of soap the hotel proved, when I felt something next to me. Sliding the curtain revealed Apogee standing there, breathing heavily, the thin black shirt clinging to her sweaty form.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, keeping my lower body covered by the curtain.
She leaned back against the sink, still despondent, so I rinsed myself of soap and covered myself with a towel as I walked out of the shower.
“You alright?”
Apogee avoided my face, her eyes focused on the floor.
“I was dreaming...” she trailed off.
She stared at the mirror a few seconds gathering up the strength.
“They came here. My people. And Th-they came in and they caught you.”
“What people? The Seven?”
She nodded.
“They caught you and they killed you.”
I smiled, “That’s not going to happen, angel.”
“They killed you,” she continued, “and because of what Zundergrub did to me, they killed me too. Then I woke up and you were gone.”
“No one’s going to find us, Apogee,” I soothed her, though at the same time, that was my greatest fear.
“They hired us to put you down,” she blurted. “By any means necessary.”
“They, who?”
A lone tear raced down her face. “It was a lie. It was all a lie.”
“They hired you to kill me?”
“Braxton. The NSA,” she said. “And no, they didn’t say to kill you, but they made it clear that we had the authority to use whatever force we felt was appropriate. If you guys were dead, they were going to look the other way. Braxton goaded me, in particular. He knew how upset I was about Pulsewave.”
I let her go and stepped back.
Apogee’s fierce eyes were filled with anguish and shame. I had an opportunity here, to take that figurative knife that she had dug into herself and bury it deeper, call her a hypocrite, a criminal no different than I. But in that scant tiny bathroom, in that strange moment in time with the whole world trying to catch us, I think Apogee and I finally began to understand each other.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m sorry too,” I said, grabbing another towel to dry my head and leaving her alone in the bathroom.
* * *
By the time I had dried off and dressed, she was back in bed asleep. She stirred under the covers, troubled by her dreams. I took the opportunity to grab a couple of the prepaid phones and step out of the hotel room. It was the first chance at true privacy I had since Zundergrub had stuck us together.
I unpackaged the first one and dialed Sandy.
He picked up the phone on the first ring, despite the late hour on the West Coast, but didn’t answer. I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line and was about to speak but hesitated. It was strange, because we listened to each other. Sandy and I didn’t have any special code for when his line was compromised, but it was clear he was sending me a message. He was blown, the authorities were listening to his conversations and emails, and I should leave him alone for now.
I crushed it in my hands, knowing that they could track the throwaway phone even if it was off by global positioning and be at our door in a few hours. I leaned against the stolen SUV and wondered what to do next. It wasn’t like I had a ton of friends to ask for advice. I checked a secret compartment in my boot where I had a folded napkin with two numbers scratched down.
One of the numbers was Delphi’s, but when I called his answering machine came on and it was full, unable to save any more messages. Bastard had probably seen the news and used his ghost-like powers to get out of the country. At least until they caught me.
Then I thought of Influx for some reason. Losing her seemed so far away, so long ago, rather than something that had been so recent. I tried to remember her face, that crooked smile, her lustrous hair, but instead I was deluged with images of Apogee. Influx accepted me, encouraged me to be myself, wanted to see the best and worst in me, and that was exciting, but at the same time frightening.
I knew her history, and she wasn’t the nicest girl on the planet. She’d paraded as a hero in the past and grown to hate it, then crossed over and become one of the world’s foremost villains. And she relished the idea of being hated, and being loved, for all the evil in her heart. Being so close to her was exciting and startling at the same time, like a dance with the devil.
I crushed the napkin, throwing it away and went inside. I didn’t even bother to call the second number on the napkin. It was a number I didn’t want to call anyway, for fear of who would answer. I couldn’t be sure that Delphi wasn’t hiding out with the owner of those digits, and I couldn’t be certain that Serpentis would want to hear from me again.
* * *
We slept most of the day, and by early evening we were starving. We ordered a couple of pizzas from a local delivery joint whose one saving grace was it also sold beer. She insisted we watch women’s college basketball which wasn’t my favorite sport, but I gave it a chance for Apogee’s sake. It turns out she had played years before for a college whose name she didn’t want to divulge and had even been recruited professionally before the eruption of her powers had changed everything.
“It’s not Joe’s Stone Crab,” she said of the pizza after relieving some gas under her breath, “but it’ll do.”
“Isn’t that in Miami,” I said.
“Never mind,” she replied, probably afraid of what I would do with that information.
I toasted with my beer and drained its last remnants, belching proud and loud.
“Pig!” she shrieked playfully but I let a second one out, far worse than the first. “Oh, my God. You’re so disgusting.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I hate that. You men take so much for granted with your body functions. How could God create such vile creatures?”
“Wasn’t woman born of a man’s rib?”
“That must have been your one good part,” she said, draining her last beer. “It’s like there’s this subconscious countdown in your brains from the date you first meet a girl to when you feel it’s fine to let one rip. I’ve never met a man who doesn’t have that happen to them.”
“It’s a natural body function. And you know what? I’m not going to take the bait.”
“The bait?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to play the part of defending all your fucked up boyfriends ‘cause I’m the only swinging dick in sight.”
“Hey, you’re the one who started this.”
“Well, I surrender.”
The basketball game was a foregone conclusion, so I inched over to the television and changed the channel, looking for the news. We caught them in the midst of some economic news, so I turned the volume down, cleaned up the place and went to brush my teeth in the bathroom.
“So, where are your friends?” she asked, bringing her empty pizza box and beer bottles to the garbage. It took me a second to realize she was talking about Cool Hand, Zundergrub and Mr. Haha.
“I’m not sure,” I said truthfully. “We had another mission, so they’re probably doing that now.”
Her beer bottles clanked as she dropped them one at a time into the small garbage can.
“What does Dr. Retcon have to do with all of this?”
I knew this was coming since I blurted out Retcon’s name earlier and I didn’t want to give
more information than I needed to. It was strange how she was worming her way in and I didn’t know why I was letting her. Zundergrub mind hacking her was one thing, but there was only so much I wanted to share with her.
The truth is, I was starting to more than trust her. I was starting to like her quite a bit, and that was worrying me.
“Apogee, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is he involved?”
“I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” I repeated, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing my mouth. I wiped my face with a hand towel and she ripped it from my face.
“Answer me.”
That fire came back over her eyes.
“Or what?”
“I’ll punch you in the balls,” she said.
I inched closer to her, my face only a few inches from hers.
“Really?”
And just like that, the fire was gone. Her features softened and lips pursed.
“And here I was starting to think that you were...” she paused, moving away. “Well, that you’re only an idiot.”
“We’re back to this?”
“I mean as opposed to a real bastard, a real villain.”
I took off my shirt, pants and shoes preparing to go to sleep.
“What’re you a mild-mannered psychologist when you’re not wearing spandex and a pushup bra?”
Apogee laughed. “I’m not a psychologist, but I don’t have to be one to read right through you.”
Wearing just my boxers, I walked over to the bed and threw off the sheets.
“Do you have to walk around in the nude?”
“This isn’t nude,” I snapped. “Besides, you have your own bed, so don’t get so excited.” As I got into the bed I asked her, “So you think you can psychoanalyze me?”
She got up and took off her clothes, leaving only her bottom and sports bra, as she said, “You’re not that complicated, Blackjack. You’re a guy who hasn’t grown up yet. You’re a boy at heart, and not in a good way. More like in the whole, I-haven’t-learned-to-deal-with-authority kind of way. Like a teenager smoking in the boy’s room. Except you’re thirty-three and it’s not cool any more. Now it’s just pedantic.”
I have to admit, I was caught staring at her etched navel, her flawless breasts, her muscled thighs. The way Apogee took off her clothes, totally oblivious to my gawking and in the most nonchalant fashion, was ten times more provoking than if she had tried to sex it up. She left her bra and underwear on and walked over to my stuff, grabbing another of my t-shirts without asking and threw it on. Apogee did that whole thing women do where they take off their bra inside a shirt. It’s like a Rube-Goldberg contraption in reverse, where the bra comes out one sleeve hole.
All the while, she talked about me, about how I was immature and that’s what gave me some sort of redeemable quality and so on. I looked as if paying attention to her.
She was passing by the television when the news turned to the fight in New York. The camera angles were from the crowd, and mostly from the beginning of the fight. The news had a way of doing these hero-versus-villain set pieces where they emphasized the heroes and the villains were almost an afterthought. Epic, Superdynamic, being the most famous of the Superb Seven got the most coverage, with Apogee close behind. You could tell the cameraman had shot a lot of Apogee, because her shots were slow and deliberate. The guy took his time to get the most flattering angles of her.
Even FTL and Gamma Demon got close-ups.
Me and the boys? We got a quick full team shot, where I was partially off camera, and a few shots of Haha and the doctor. That was it. I guess the walking rabbit robot and Zundergrub with his demonic imps made for better evening news drama than did some guy in a dark cape.
I got up, shut off the TV mid-report, and turned off the lights.
“Let’s get some sleep,” I snapped and dove back into the bed.
We lay in silence for a few minutes. I had turned away from her and was slowly descending into sleep but I could feel her restless behind me.
“Did I upset you?” she asked.
“Nah,” I shot back, half asleep.
Apogee sat up and edged toward the gap between our beds.
“What I meant about all that stuff is that you’re not hopeless, Blackjack. Most of the people I’ve faced before were crazies. Really, really messed up. You know?”
“So I’m immature, but not messed up. I get it. Can I go to sleep now?”
“No. I need to know I’m getting through to you.”
I sat up too and faced her.
“You’re going to redeem me?”
“I’m trying to understand you.”
“Let me ask you something,” I snapped. “If right now, Zundergrub’s power thing that he did to you, if that wears off, what would you do? Would you beat my ass?”
I couldn’t really see her face in the darkness, but my question gave her pause.
“Would you stop there? You’re faster than me, a lot faster. And nearly as strong. I had Cool Hand’s trick up my sleeve the last time we fought, but now I’d be me. You could kill me no problem. That’s what you wanted to do at first, right? To kill me.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
“And now we’re all chummy, so it’s cool, huh? Two days ago you were going to kill me, now we’re what? Friends?”
“I don’t want your trust, Blackjack. I need to know what all of this has to do with Retcon.”
I rolled back over and threw my head into the pillow.
“Just get some sleep.”
* * *
“Wake up,” she shouted and I did.
Apogee stood by the television, fully dressed, holding a small note.
“What is that?” I walked to her and she handed it to me. Written down were two sets of numbers, arrayed in the form of degrees, minutes and seconds, which meant it was probably a latitude and longitude coordinate. It was signed “D.R.”
“D.R. is for Doctor Retcon, isn’t it?” she asked, more in a declarative fashion, proving her point. “He was here while we slept.”
I turned to go to the bathroom but Apogee grabbed my arm, holding me back.
“Tell me.”
“Do you mind?” I said and motioned to my boxer shorts, hoping my near nudity would grant me a delay.
“I’m serious, Blackjack”
I smiled as her grip turned tighter and her right fist charged up with energy.
“I thought my being half naked made you feel uncomfortable,” I half joked but her face was a steely mask.
“I need to know.” Apogee said.
I nodded, confirming her worst fears.
“My God.”
She sat back against the television stand. I walked back to the bathroom and washed my face. Apogee came over moments later, as I was dressing. I donned a pair of jeans, the black t-shirt she had worn the night before (that smelled marvelous, by the way) and my boots. Finally, I tossed a black beaner cap over my head to keep my unruly black hair out of sight.
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” she said, almost pleading.
“He brought us on to get a bunch of useless junk for him.”
“It can’t be useless if Retcon wants it. Damn it, this makes no sense,” Apogee shook her head. “Retcon is bad news, Blackjack. Really bad. The worst villain since…I don’t know, since Stalin?”
“Seemed like a nice enough guy to me,” I admitted.
“Wait, you actually met him?”
“It’s a gathering mission, Apogee,” I said, changing the subject. I wasn’t sure if she knew how his powers worked, how I had managed a meeting with a guy supposedly in jail. “We’re supposed get him some items and he pays us well. Looks like he’s getting his money’s worth too.”
“If you’re so ok with it, then why can’t you look at me in the eyes?”
I did.
“I know about you Blackjack,” she continued. “This isn’t you.”
“How do you know?”
“If it was about money, you could be rich right now. Any of your inventions would make you a fortune. That decoy thing, your computer watch or even your arrows. And you wouldn’t be risking prison for the rest of your life. Is it about money?”
I tried to muscle past her, but she held me fast.
“Is it?”
She was undeterred. “How do you justify having all these powers and being a common criminal? You’re abusing your God-given gifts robbing banks and stuff. That’s not even worthy of your abilities. That’s like Michael Jordan never playing in the NBA because street ball is so much easier. What do you want to be? I mean, you’re not a villain, you’re a half-assed wannabe criminal, and not that good at it.”
“Enough, Apogee.”
She studied me. “No, I think you’re scared. Scared that you might have a calling for something bigger. But you don’t want the attendant responsibilities that come with your powers. No, that would be actual work. That would mean making a moral decision. I mean, you’re as strong as Epic or Lord Mighty, but you hide behind a bow and a bunch of gadgets. What’s that about? What are you scared of?”
There was a sound in the distance, the whining of jet engines as something approached. I knew that sound. It was the Rocket Flyer.
“I’m not scared,” I said, without conviction. She smiled, making me even more upset. “What does it matter what I do with my life? And why the hell do you care?”
Apogee’s features and tone softened.
“It matters, Blackjack, because your life doesn’t have to be this.”
Outside, the whine grew to a crescendo as the Rocket Flyer descended, apparently right atop of us. A great howling wind danced upon the parking lot outside, sending debris across our window.
She moved past me to the door to see what was happening. She opened it and looked up. I came beside her and saw the Rocket Flyer slowly falling out of the sky. Mr. Haha intended to land in the middle of the motel’s parking lot.
“You should probably change into your uniform,” I told her, standing behind her as the wind howled past us into the motel room. Outside, people were scrambling away, and a woman crashed her car into another while backing out of the parking lot in panic.
