Rise of a D-List Supervillain

by Jim Bernheimer

  Rise of a D-List Supervillain

  by

  Jim Bernheimer

  Copyright © 2017 by Jim Bernheimer and EJB Networking, Inc

  Cover design by Raffaele Marinetti.

  Visit his online gallery at http://www.raffaelemarinetti.it/

  Cover Lettering by Jeffrey Kafer

  Visit his website at https://www.jeffreykafer.com

  Book design by Jim Bernheimer.

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Visit the author’s website at www.JimBernheimer.com

  First Publication: August 2017

  Dedication and Acknowledgements

  I’m astounded that people are not only reading this, but they are asking me for more.

  Mind boggling. It truly is.

  Obviously, the first person I have to thank is my lovely wife, Kim. She puts up with listening to all the odd scenes that come to mind (usually with very little context) just so I can see if she likes the one liner at the end.

  She has a lot of patience.

  I’ll thank my girls, Laura and Marissa next. All those questions about what I’m writing and if this is a book that they can read. Laura, yes. Marissa, not for another four years. Let Daddy cling to the idea that you’re still young and innocent for a bit longer.

  Jeffrey Kafer does a magnificent job narrating this series. If you’re reading this, you should stop and give him a listen before continuing. He’s a large part of the success of this series and I am grateful that David Wood introduced us all those years ago. David got me started by being my publisher and has shared much of his knowledge know that I’m publishing other people.

  Then there are the people who gave this a test read – Flora Demuth, David Bagini, Graham Adizma, Amanda Rae Westfal, Charles Phipps, and Michael Gibson. The story is that much better for your input. Tara Ellis and Valerie Kann get a special thanks for all the editing work. The story is MUCH better because of your hard work. Seriously, my grammar and punctuation borders on the abysmal.

  Now, I need to thank the fans. From the folks who still contact me and ask me if I’m going to write a sequel to a fanfic to those that ask about the next Spirals of Destiny novel. (It’s my next project. I promise!) You guys and girls bump into me at conventions or contact me on my website and Facebook. I get such a kick out of interacting with you. Special thanks to Dave Evans, Grigory Lukin, Megan Bostic, Alec Vendura, Caitlyn Merchant, and Steve Caldwell. You rock!

  Special Note from the Author

  In Horror, Humor, and Heroes Volume IV, I published a five chapter Hillbilly Bobby novella called Thugs, Lies, and Spies. In chronological order, that work starts when Bobby left the base to go do some work/spy on The Apostle during Secrets of a D-List Supervillain. The first chapter of this novel covers the same basic material from Cal Stringel’s point of view as the final chapter in Bobby’s novella. You will also see some things from that story mentioned in passing (Bobby fighting Seawall and federal agents at a Manglermal brothel, his adoption of a fake identity, The Highwayman, among other things) during this story.

  So, if you ever wanted to read about this universe from Bobby’s point of view, you are more than welcome to check it and the other short stories in the collection.

  Chapter One

  REDNECKS, AND TIGERS, AND IMPOSTERS, OH MY!

  Chapter Two

  AN IDEA MILLIONS OF YEARS IN THE MAKING

  Chapter Three

  A CONFLICT OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS

  Chapter Four

  AWFUL TRUTHS DISGUISED AS PILLOW TALK

  Chapter Five

  WHEN A BIG REVEAL FLOPS

  Chapter Six

  SOMETIMES A NAKED WOMAN IS A BAD THING

  Chapter Seven

  FIGHT NIGHT IN VEGAS

  Chapter Eight

  GETTING A BAD RAPTOR

  Chapter Nine

  SHOPLIFTING FROM THE COMPANY STORE

  Chapter Ten

  THE MANY DEATHS OF JOSÉ SIX-PACK

  Chapter Eleven

  WHY HEROISM CAN SOMETIMES BE LIKE HERPES

  Chapter Twelve

  WHEN FOUR HEADS AREN’T BETTER THAN ONE

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE UNSIGHTLY AFTERMATH

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE LAST MOMENT JUST BEFORE THE FALL

  Amber Cove Publishing is Proud to Present

  TIME TO LIE – BY PHIL TAYLOR

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Rednecks, and Tigers, and Imposters, Oh My!

  “What’s the word, Andy?” I ask, sliding into the chair and jacking into the Megasuit.

  “Hello Cal,” the android replies. “Your armor is currently on a shuttered oil rig eighteen miles away from Bobby’s last reported position. I am attempting to get a visual on the Port of New Orleans, but E.M. Pulsive seems to be generating an inordinate amount of electrical interference at this time. Based on reports, the assembled group of villains appears to be attacking the cargo ships docked there. Local police are establishing a perimeter and the Gulf Coast Guardians are currently en route. Their ETA is five minutes.”

  I hadn’t cared for Bobby’s “I’m gonna go spy on what the bad guys are doing” plans when he first started doing them, and I didn’t like it now.

  “Doesn’t fit Eddie’s way of doing things,” I mutter, referring to Pulsive’s actions. “He doesn’t usually advertise his presence until he is ready to leave. It looks like they just got there.”

  Bobby hadn’t been in contact for over two days, but with Eddie involved, it was easy to see why. The electrical supervillain might be able to intercept the signals.

  “Have you been able to tap into camera feeds in the area?”

  “Not yet. The Port’s cameras appear to be on a closed circuit and not accessible from our current position. A search of contracts awarded indicates that the system is twelve years old.”

  “Well, that sucks donkey balls!” I say, cursing outdated technology. Security by obscurity giving me the digital finger and all that crap.

  Andydroid glances at me. “I concur with your colorful assessment of the situation. It is less than optimal. Object detected en route to Port of New Orleans. Displaying on screen three.”

  I look at where Andy indicates. It’s from the outside of a liquor store using the default passwords for their wireless CCTV setup. “Is that a knockoff of my old Roller? No. There’s a windshield. Blow it up for me, would ya?”

  The resolution is crappy, but I make out that someone is inside, and the blurry markings tell me who it is. “Holy shit! The Bugler built the DCV we drew up the plans for back in the day!”

  The Biloxi Bugler, also known as Bo Carr, and I had a fairly complicated history. My stint in prison at his hands, and my putting his ass in the hospital, had been sore point to get over. I nearly crapped my pants when he and I ended up on the Gulf Coast Guardians during my not-so-successful attempt at going legit.

  Somewhere along the way, I started to respect him. Bo, in his mid-fifties, would go out there with no real powers other than the sonic bugle he’d invented and “play the high notes of justice.”

  Back when I couldn’t scrounge enough synth to replace a set of powered armor together and he had been recovering from both his legs being broken, Bo and I tossed around the idea of a new identity for me, The Dronemaster. Instead of armor, we would build a set of robots that would be operated from a Drone Control Vehicle.

&
nbsp; The object on the screen, decked out with the state flag of Mississippi, looks a lot like the plans the two of us drew up, before I faked my death. It evokes a mixture of feelings—envy that Bo built it and I didn’t, pride that Bo pulled it off, and a bit of disappointment that I won’t be able to get inside of it anytime soon and check it out.

  Who knew that pretending to be dead could actually have a downside?

  I make a note to mention this to my girlfriend to impress her with my ever-expanding depth of character. Naturally, she will reply that I am telling her this to convince her to slip away from her team of Olympians for a booty call, which will negate the personal development I plan to project.

  Especially since I would be trying to convince her to visit at that time.

  I will need to prepare a good counterargument, I think while disengaging the Gepetto Interface so I can drink a bottle of water without having Megasuit duplicate my actions.

  Along with the Post-it note attached to the bottom of the monitor with the words Anything you are doing, the armor is too! scribbled on it, the marks on the rear plating from that time I really had to scratch my ass serve as a constant reminder.

  “Do you have a visual on Bobby yet? Think I should move closer to the action?”

  Andy continues monitoring his feeds, but answers without looking at me. “There is no indication that your position is compromised. The only reason to alter that is if you believe our double agent is in jeopardy. The likelihood of Bobby Walton’s death or severe injury in a confrontation with our former team is minimal. His capture is a greater possibility, but if the armor is spotted, questions will be asked as to why we did not take an active role in the skirmish.”

  Andy makes too much damn sense sometimes.

  Maybe I’m just spoiling for a fight. After all those times Eddie used to goad and threaten me, it would be hilarious to see him shit a high-voltage brick when faced with the Megasuit.

  Unfortunately, Andy is right. My own petty need for a pound of flesh, or joule of energy in this case, isn’t worth putting our operation on the line.

  Eddie’s smug ass just isn’t worth it. He’s chum that will hopefully lead us to bigger fish. There was a time when I thought he was better than me. I was wrong. I’m more than a guy whose gift is inventing things and a dabbler in ancient dinosaur magic. Eddie is much less than the sum of his electrical powers. We’ve both killed people in the commission of crimes, but Eddie would kill anyone in his path without a second thought. I rarely lose sleep over killing someone, but there are only a few people I’d go out of my way to off.

  See! Now that’s personal growth. I just have to figure out how to use it.

  As the minutes tick by, Andy gives me as much detail as he can scrounge, but Pulsive has that section of New Orleans lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Garbled bits of 911 dispatches come in, while the local news channel states that they are intentionally keeping their helicopter out of the area for the safety of the crew. Considering the way Eddie operates, I don’t blame them.

  “I think it’s about time we bring the boss lady up to speed. How ’bout you?”

  “I have already sent her a message with a summary of the situation at this time. Wendy’s response directs that we should continue to monitor and that I should try to prevent you from doing anything stupid. I am in the process of replying that there are too many independent variables to account for all the stupid courses of action you are capable of.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” I ask Andy.

  “It is merely an observation of the behavior patterns you demonstrate and your penchant for plans that succeed while defying the low probabilities I calculate. No offense is intended, Cal.”

  His disclaimer makes me more suspicious that he is making fun of me. That’s the problem with having on my team the most advanced artificial lifeform I’d ever met.

  The New Renegades are a dysfunctional, but merry, band of misfits. WhirlWendy, America’s sweetheart, with over a decade in the superhero business, is our leader. She gave her childhood and teenage years in dutiful service to being a hero. What did it get her? The adoration of the public? Yeah, sure. It also taught her how callous and uncaring those in power could be. The government propaganda cannons are targeted on Wendy right now, and her own father’s fingers are on the trigger.

  Wendy LaGuardia has multiple reasons for being upset. Half the time the reasons are connected back to me in some way or another. We decided early on to not play by the rules, and the people opposed to change are pushing back. Our team name might need to change to the New Fugitives.

  “Anything on Bobby yet?” Larry Hitt asks, descending the staircase into my domain. He’s a stocky man, with short black hair and a hint of gray starting to creep in, which is sad because of all the years our team’s version of Rip Van Winkle had lost.

  “Just that he’s about to throw down with the Gulf Coasters.”

  “Need me to suit up?” He gestures to his shorts and tee shirt.

  “Not yet, but be on standby,” I answer as best I can.

  “Pulsive has increased his electromagnetic interference,” Andy announces. “It is outside of his normal operating parameters. It is beginning to cause problems with transmissions across the spectrum.”

  Larry looks confused until I explain, “Eddie did something similar a few years back, when he tried to shake down a TV network by jamming game seven of the World Series. Unless he’s had a boost that we haven’t heard about, he can only maintain it for ten minutes.”

  Part of me resists the urge to make some kind of performance joke at the expense of the villain, but I decide to take the higher road, or maybe just the road not taken. Either way, I let it go and focus on the matter at hand.

  “Eddie has already been paid,” I say, “So there is no money in this for him. Since we can’t find any specific cargo he is targeting, Eddie and the rest of his crew must be there just to cause destruction. The real question is why there, and what can they gain from it?”

  “Perhaps it is a distraction? Bobby did say that Eddie enticed him with a chance to fight his cousin and our former teammate,” Andy offers. He got along with Sheila when we were on the Gulf Coast Guardians. Her low opinion of me mirrored the one I had of her. We frequently challenged each other to do things that were anatomically impossible, and not in a good-natured manner, either.

  I nod my head at my mechanical buddy, because that’s the only thing that makes a damn bit of sense. “Any idea what else someone might be after in New Orleans while the resident super team is otherwise occupied?”

  Andy tosses out several theories, including bank robberies, political kidnappings, hijackings, and a few things I could barely wrap my mind around. He then rattles off all the reasons why we can discount most of these theories.

  With a frown, I flip a toggle switch that sends a signal through a small fragment of a magic mirror and turns on a little light in Stacy Mitchell’s suit of powered armor. If she is in her armor and sees it, she will switch to a private channel and talk with me.

  Roughly thirty seconds pass before I hear her charming voice coming through the speakers. She could read street directions and make them sound sexy! “Hey, Cal. What’s up?”

  “The Gulf Coasters are fighting E.M. Pulsive and his crew. I don’t know if word has reached you yet.”

  “No,” she says. “I’m in the Philippines trying to track down a local who may or may not have a connection to Mount Pinatubo.”

  “I could see how that might be a problem. Piss the dude off and volcano go boom. You working with backup?”

  “It’s a her, and no,” she responds. “She’s a fifteen-year-old girl and not a villain. I’m widely considered the most harmless Olympian after Hestia. Well, except for just after your book was released. Sadly, things have gone back to normal.”

  In fairness, we were on a break when I wrote my “tell-all,” but I wasn’t very charitable to her. The fact that she doesn’t hold it against me is pretty d
amn amazing.

  “Is Hestia’s chip on her shoulder as big as yours? If the public only knew,” I say and laugh. “You are definitely not harmless. I have bruises too, for proof.”

  “Aw, poor baby. Are you trying to say that I’m more woman than you can handle? Why didn’t you say something?”

  She teases, but I’m not having it. “I think it’s more a case that I drive you so crazy that you can’t control yourself. Because that’s how I roll!”

  “You’re pretty full of yourself today,” the Olympian retorts.

  “I’m just shocked that you’re actually using your armor on a real mission. That alone is worth a celebration. Do you have a picture of volcano girl? I could have Andy scour the social websites for any sign of her.”

  “Yes. Give me a second and I’ll push it across our link. The wireless is pretty slow, though. Who do I have to sleep with to get an upgrade?”

  “Next time we can set up a meet, I can install a more powerful transmitter. That old fifty-four meg one was all I had on hand. Besides, I didn’t expect you to be using your armor anytime soon.”

  “Cal, you’re not going to be happy unless I’m in this thing eighteen hours a day,” she replies after a slight chuckle.

  “Bah! I’d settle for twelve,” I say as the photo comes across our wireless. Andy snatches it from my screen before I even get a good look at the young lady Stacy is searching for. It makes me wonder if her Aphrodite powers actually do work on my android buddy.

  He has been going on about relationships lately and roleplaying with his two robots. I’m probably just being paranoid, or more paranoid than I usually am. Flora asked me why I am such a hot mess last time the robot was down here. Oh well, if it makes Andy happy to play with mechanical dolls…