Evil Genius 2: Becoming the Apex Supervillain

by Logan Jacobs

  “I’m still not a hundred percent convinced that Dan Slade is the Shadow Knight,” Elizabeth said.

  “I’m sure you will be after we hang out with him,” I said. “Now, why don’t you two go change into, I don’t know, yacht wear? He said they’ll leave the pier at two, and it’s an hour long drive, so we should head out soon.”

  The two biological women went upstairs, which left me alone in the kitchen with Aileen.

  “Well?” I asked the AI as I wiggled my eyebrows.

  “I’d say you are ninety-nine percent correct with your guess that Slade is Shadow Knight,” she said. “He is the most plausible candidate from among the citizens of Grayville, given that he is one of only two citizens whose net worth is commensurate with the Shadow Knight’s estimated equipment expenditures, and that he is a weapons engineer thirty-two years of age. The other citizen of sufficient wealth is a fast food CEO seventy-two years of age. Of course, it is possible that either of them could be funding another individual to act as the Shadow Knight, but I consider that less probable. Especially when you factor in two other considerations. Firstly, Dan Slade’s height is publicly listed as six foot and one inch and in a fitness magazine interview he reported his weight as two-hundred pounds, which matches the approximate height and weight of the Shadow Knight based on scaled images and muscle mass and body fat estimations. Although it should be noted that many very fit men share similar measurements. But the other consideration is one of biographical circumstance. When Dan Slade was five years old, both his parents were brutally murdered by a supervillain known as Pitchfork, now deceased.”

  “Orphaned by a supervillain... ” I sighed. “What a fucking cliched origin story.”

  At that point, Norma and Elizabeth descended the stairs. Norma slunk reluctantly behind the superheroine while clutching her arms around her middle, clearly self-conscious in her ruffled white and blue striped off the shoulder one piece, although it actually looked cute on her. She was also wearing a white miniskirt over it, with blue flip flops, jangly silver jewelry around her neck and wrists, and a large straw hat with a blue ribbon.

  Elizabeth, on the other hand, sashayed down the stairs like a model on a catwalk with a slight smirk on her full lips, and she was clearly well aware of exactly how outrageously sexy she looked. She was wearing a gauzy sheer coverup over a red bikini which in some ways was the most natural color on her, or at least the color that best reflected her personality, even though I firmly believed that something tactical such as a supersuit should be a more neutral and less eye-catching color. The cut of the bikini itself was quite simple, although the bottom was cut in a high and narrow V shape just like her suit, to expose her rock hard thighs up to past the hipbone and the majority of her firm, round, generously curved ass. The cut of the suit was low as well, and it displayed the curve of her ample breasts. In between, everything was long limbs and lean muscle like carved marble. She had a model’s gait, but not a model’s gawkiness, she was powerfully built in a way that reminded me of a lioness.

  “Damn,” I said. “You two look gorgeous.”

  “Really?” Norma smiled a little at being included in the compliment.

  “I said ‘you two’ didn’t I?” I scoffed.

  “Well, yeah,” Norma said as her face turned as red as Elizabeth’s suit, “but--”

  “You’ll fit in,” I interrupted. “Let’s roll. Aileen--”

  “I shall guard the house, your car, and your possessions and alert you if anything noteworthy occurs while you are gone,” she said. “And I will be in contact through your phone if you need me.”

  “Perfect, thanks,” I said, and then the three of us got in my car and drove toward the address Dan had given me.

  When we arrived at the pier, it was pretty easy to find Dan Slade’s yacht. It was the biggest and swankiest vessel there. It was also the one blasting pop music and adorned with about two-dozen scantily clad women who looked ripped straight from the pages of various fashion and swimsuit magazine covers.

  As we approached, a deeply tanned, oiled up, and very muscular man in sunglasses, white slacks, and a halfway unbuttoned linen shirt approached us with a drink in hand and a broad smile. He had thick light brown hair, a chiseled square chin, and wide eyes. The man was handsome, of course, but his eyes were dull and had a glassy and somewhat vapid look. The exposed parts of his chest were loaded with muscle, and the veins pushed up against his skin as if they were trying to break free, and I guessed he must have spent eight hours or more a day in the gym.

  “My God, it’s Miles Nelson, the man himself!” Dan exclaimed as he clapped me into an awkward one-armed hug while attempting not to spill his drink on me. “With some very lovely company. What? I can hardly believe my eyes! Are you Miss Elizabeth Avenati? This must be my lucky day, having two such illustrious guests aboard my humble vessel here!”

  “I go by Dynamo,” Elizabeth said. Her birth name wasn’t a secret, it was publicly known, but she had once told me that only her parents and I were allowed to call her that. I guessed that Dan Slade had used it either to show off that he knew that trivia about her, or in a misguided attempt to establish a sense of familiarity.

  “And this is Norma, my invaluable assistant,” I said, before Dan Slade could hurt her feelings by neglecting to ask. Even so, it was pretty obvious from his body language that he was far more interested with Dynamo, and far more fascinated with me than with either of the women.

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Slade nodded to my assistant, but then he turned back to my girlfriend, and his grin widened a bit. “Ah, so you still go by Dynamo even though you are no longer employed by The Wardens? They didn’t have it trademarked or something like that so they could maintain ownership and hire on a new Dynamo?”

  “No, it was my idea,” Elizabeth said. “When you audition for The Wardens, you have to have a name and persona ready for them, although often they decide to make changes once they hire someone. But they accepted my choice.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful,” he said as he waved us to walk onto his yacht. “Come on, come on, don’t be shy! Mi barco es su barco. What would you all like to drink?”

  “How about two fingers of whiskey neat?” I requested.

  “I’ll have an Old Fashioned please,” Dynamo said.

  “… Something strong that doesn’t taste like alcohol,” Norma said. She was staring around at the bikini-clad beauties tanning themselves or wiggling their hips to the pop music and seemed to be feeling acutely uncomfortable in their presence. “With an umbrella.”

  “Fernando, you heard that?” Slade shouted at an even more deeply tanned middle aged man in a wildly weather inappropriate white three piece suit with gray hair and an air of refinement.

  “Yes, sir. Coming right up,” Fernando said as he disappeared into the interior of the large ship.

  “You are going to love Grayville,” Slade told me. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “Nope, first time visit,” I said.

  “You don’t say!” he exclaimed. “Well, how long do you have? I’d love to show you some of the sights.”

  “Yeah, we did stop by the umbrella and the, uh, statue of the crow man,” I said nonchalantly.

  Slade’s eyes flashed and then he forced out a laugh. “Oh, you mean the Shadow Knight? Yes, our hometown hero. Grayville would be nothing without him.”

  I chuckled. “You know, I was reading some studies that suggest that the rise of the Shadow Knight has actually inadvertently inspired more supervillains to try to make their mark in Grayville. That crime rates have gone up in the last four and a half years and so on and so forth. Basically, that that guy flapping around in that crow costume has actually caused more problems than he’s solved.”

  “Studies funded by who, supervillains?” Slade laughed.

  Before I could respond, Fernando returned in record time with our three drinks.

  “You know, for the second round, you really should try Fernando’s specialty, the Sunny
Side Up Tatas. The pineapple liqueur gives it such a zesty kick.” Dan lifted his yellowish drink in the air as he spoke, and I noticed a few of the women on the deck turn their attention to his large biceps. The man was really ripped, and I wondered if he was using human growth hormone or some other sort of drug to keep up his performance. Or maybe he actually did have a super power like Elizabeth’s that made him stronger than a normal human.

  “This is delicious,” Norma said as she sipped her alarmingly purple drink out of a coconut.

  “It is.” Dynamo also nodded her approval after she had sipped her drink.

  “Yes,” I agreed as I took a sip of my own smokey whiskey. I had to remind myself to try to play nice with Slade. He had been nothing but nice to me, after all. And if he truly was the Shadow Knight, then I shouldn’t discount the possibility that he might be able to help me in some way. But, honestly, I was just sick of namby pamby superheroes who flatly refused to kill even those most deserving of death, and obsequious copycat weapons engineers weren’t really my favorite demographic either.

  “Do you like the whiskey?” Dan asked me as he raised an eyebrow.

  “Flanagan Single Barrel?” I asked before I took another small sip.

  “Damn,” Slade chuckled, “they were right.”

  “They?” I asked.

  “People say you really know your whiskey.”

  “I’ve had that one recently,” I admitted with a slight laugh. “It’s excellent.”

  “Fernando, when he is ready, bring our guest another and don’t tell us which distillery,” Slade instructed his dapper employee, and then he turned back to us and gestured to a few chairs on the yacht that weren’t occupied by beautiful women in tiny bikinis. “Come, there are some deck chairs set up over here. Let’s catch up.”

  “Sure,” I said, and then the four of us walked across the lavish deck to where the chairs were.

  As we walked, most of the women lounging on the deck turned their eyes in our direction, and I overheard a few whispers of “Is that Miles Nelson? Wow, he’s better looking than I thought.” And “who is in the red bikini with him?” And “I can’t believe both Slade and Nelson are hanging out together. Do you think there will be paparazzi showing up soon?” Along with other such nonsense that I expected vapid swimsuit models to say.

  We finally settled in our chairs in a rough circle, and the yacht began to inch out of the harbor. The weather was quite perfect, and a soft salty breeze cut a bit of the early morning heat. I was about to make some small talk, and ask Dan how long he’d had the boat for, but he beat me to the punch.

  “I’ve been dying to know what you’ve been up to since the last time we spoke.”

  “Last time we spoke?” I started to ask, but he was already spitting out his next sentence.

  “--Especially all the rumors with Miss Avenati. Woops! Pardon me, Dynamo here. It didn’t make any sense to me when I first heard that, because I thought, ‘Nah, I know Miles Nelson. He’s a business guy. He’s an inventor. A fucking brilliant one! He doesn’t, you know, mess around with the super industry. He’s too smart for that.’ It’s a risky investment, and well, the market’s oversaturated right now. Or at least that is what my advisors say.”

  “Superheroes don’t worry about the money,” Dynamo said. “Not the good ones, anyway. That’s not what it’s about.”

  “Exactly!” Slade said enthusiastically as he clapped his hands together. “I mean you can have all the fucking money in the world but that’s not what’s going to bring you a sense of fulfillment at the end of the day, is it? What you want, what you really want if you’re any kind of decent human being, is just to know that you made a fucking difference in the world. That’s what a guy needs. Or a gal of course. I’m not a sexist. I’m very much in support of female superheroes. Absolutely. I think it’s great. I love women.”

  “Or,” I suggested, “to know that you’re the best. To know that you have the power to save lives, to end lives, to spare lives, to ruin lives. That nothing and no one can stop you or question you. That your anonymity prevents you from being accountable to the masses.”

  “That sounds more like a supervillain way of thinking than a superhero,” Slade laughed as he playfully slapped the arm I wasn’t holding my drink with.

  “I’m no expert on the subject,” I said with a shrug, “but it seems to me that maybe superheroes and supervillains have a lot more in common than either would want to admit.”

  “Huh,” Slade said as he nodded his head thoughtfully. “So you’re saying, you don’t think superheroes are all they’re cracked up to be?”

  “I didn’t say that,” I said. “I think the ones with a villainous streak might be more effective than the saintly ones, actually.”

  “More effective at what?” Slade asked.

  “Ending crime,” I said.

  “You mean fighting it?” He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “How are heroes supposed to end crime?”

  “Shouldn’t they be asking that question all the time?” I asked as I took a small sip of my drink.

  “I never thought of it that way,” he said as his nose scrunched up.

  “Maybe everyone should,” I replied.

  “Well,” Dan said as he leaned back in his chair. “You are making me think, Miles, bro. Cause I feel like what you are actually saying. Is… well, okay you have a point there about how there are some psychological similarities, but I think from my perspective that’s probably the biggest liability when it comes to superheroes. The fact that if they don’t have an ironclad moral code, well they could easily just pivot to being a supervillain, and the scary thing is they might not even recognize it themselves. They might think they’re doing something ‘for the greater good’ or some shit like that, you know, but it’s actually a crime. It’s actually evil, what they’re doing. But people are used to trusting them, and they don’t realize what they’re planning until it’s too late, or worse yet, they continue to knowingly support horrible actions because it’s their hero who’s committing them.”

  “I’ve thought the same thing,” Elizabeth said, but I noticed that she was clenching her jaw a bit when she spoke, and her beautiful eyes were carefully studying my business rival.

  “Ahh!” Dan laughed and slapped my arm again. “Beauty and brains! You got yourself a keeper there, Miles.”

  “I agree,” I laughed along with him, and both Elizabeth and Norma also let out small chuckles. I had to admit that Dan Slade was quite charming, and the way he bumbled around his conversation was relaxing. I knew he was acting, and this was all a ploy to get me to let my guard down, but I could appreciate his cunning.

  He was better than I’d given him credit for.

  “Someone with less moral qualms could be more effective at combating supervillains,” I said. “And more likely to put them down for good.”

  “But won’t that be murder?” Slade cleared his throat and pulled at his loose shirt collar as he winced playfully. “Ahh, shit. The topic got super dark. My bad.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I enjoy this topic. To continue: If you kill someone who was otherwise going to commit dozens of additional homicides, then isn’t that like, committing negative homicide? Or saving lives as some people call it?”

  Slade grimaced and said, “Well, let’s not talk about politics, that would be a waste of a gorgeous day surrounded by gorgeous company, huh? Fernando! Would you tell the captain to make haste out of the harbor, please?” He turned back to Dynamo, Norma, and me and said, “I thought we’d sail over by this pretty little island I bought last year. It’s got some nice wildlife, but I haven’t really developed it yet. I think I’ll have a resort there, eventually. But for now just some fish and starfish and birds, you know. Too many fucking seagulls. It’s like they didn’t get the memo that it’s private property. Ha!”

  “So, this island, it’s pretty isolated for now?” I asked. That sounded like a convenient site for testing and storing weaponry and other superhero gear. />
  “Yup,” Slade confirmed as he winked at me, and then he nodded his chin around the deck to where some of the beautiful women lounged. “Hey Gemma, Ali, come meet my friend.”

  The two nearest girls sauntered over to our little cluster of deck chairs. One was light-skinned and one was dark-skinned, but they both had long, sleek, platinum blonde hair, huge eyes, plump lips, and similarly willowy proportions. They looked vaguely familiar. They were probably models I had seen on magazine covers or on random TV shows that might have been playing on one of the screens in my building’s office.

  “Hi, I’m Gemma,” one cooed.

  “Hey, I’m Ali,” the other echoed.

  “This is Miles Nelson,” Slade told them as he pointed at me, “and this is Dynamo-- the superhero-- and, uh, Nora.”

  “Wow, I’ve totally heard of you.” Gemma gushed as she held out a hand. “You’re the guy who invented, like, those surveillance cameras?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “If you’re referring to the C.D.S.--”

  “That’s kind of sexy,” she giggled as I shook her hand. “You get to watch everyone.”

  “He invented like everything,” Ali said as she held her hand out for me to shake. “I read an article about you. How you’re like the Da Vinci of our day. I mean, I usually don’t read tech articles like that, but you know, it had your headshot so, uhhh, I clicked it… ”

  “Well, I appreciate the extra effort,” I said as I shook Ali’s hand, and she squeezed my fingers in a way that made me think she didn’t give a shit that Elizabeth was sitting right next to me.

  Some other bikini babes started trickling toward us and joined in the conversation, and within a few minutes most of the two-dozen models had arranged their lounge chairs around us. A few of them perched themselves on our deck chairs to talk to us, which seemed to annoy Norma and Elizabeth, but Slade seemed completely unaffected by their proximity. He wasn’t trying to check them out or cozy up to them, and he didn’t seem jealous at all of their interest in me. He had more of an air of proprietary pride, like a guy showing off his car by letting his friend drive it.