Rise of a D-List Supervillain

by Jim Bernheimer

“Where’s Gabby?” I’m cool enough in the situation to ask about our baby girl.

  “Bobby,” she says, sounding disgusted at her own choice of emergency child care. Alone with a kitchen drawer full of knives might be a better option.

  “Andy’s trying to convince K-Otica and Spiritstaff to fall back. We’re obviously expected,” I say to Whirlwendy. “I can take ‘em. They’ve got to have all kinds of surveillance on the area. We shouldn’t use the poop shoot.”

  Wendy grumbles for a minute. “I can climb into the suit and you can pop the seal. I’ll come out like I’ve always been there and bring up a storm to cover you deploying Larry.”

  I want to argue, but it’s an argument I’ll lose. I did after all ask her to lead the team.

  “Switching off the sonics. Climb on in, Wendy. I’ll take Mega up.”

  “No, stay on the ground. Let’s show them what kind of tricks we have up our sleeves.”

  It’s my turn to grumble. I don’t like unbuttoning the suit in the middle of combat, even with my shields up. Weapon fault light on plasma cannon three. I flip the toggle and the overheating plasma cannon slides back from the mirror fragment and is replaced by a twenty-millimeter chain gun. The rhythmic thumping of the weapon’s recoil begins as I send enough depleted uranium rounds toward the Holy Ghost that he’s forced to pull a big rock in front of him to shield him from my firepower.

  “I’m keeping Holy Ghost pinned down, boss! Too many targets to track with the speedster. Better come out at full force.”

  “Right,” she replies. “I’m in position. Count it down, Cal.”

  “Missile inbound. Missile inbound.” OK, I like Vicky’s voice, but this is getting ridiculous.

  “Hang on. Two more RPGs on my rear quadrant. Let my shields take them first.”

  The shields register the impacts. I nod to Andy and he saves me the trouble of typing the commands with the keyboard. “Unzipping in seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, go, go, go!”

  The pressure inside the suit drops as the chest plate falls open. Wendy’s arms emerge and a wave of air pressure spreads out in my forward arc as the wind speed rises.

  Wendy leaps out and shoots vertical as my chest piece begins moving back into place. High-speed dust particles moving inside the suit could easily be more damaging than the RPGs and telekinetic bolts. I use her cover to rotate one of the depleted shield modules out.

  She doesn’t waste time on lame superhero monologues. Hell, no one would hear her anyway! Her air vortex surrounds us and the next RPG is blown off course. At two on one odds, Grace and Holy Ghost could pester me even if they weren’t really doing much damage.

  With her arrival, shit just got real for them. The tiny tornado maker with one of the foulest mouths ever to speak the English language taps into Mother Nature and suddenly the little camp is less of a warzone and more of a disaster area.

  Under the cover of Wendy’s tornado, I flip the large crystal fragment around and point to Larry Hitt—Big Red. “Show that sonnuvabitch Delgado what real power is.”

  Larry nods and I give him the thumbs-up.

  Seconds later, my scanners are swamped with the twenty-foot-tall energy construct manifesting in the center of our private little storm. Larry’s energy beast walks through the eyewall of the tornado as if it were a gentle breeze.

  If Holy Ghost didn’t crap his pants when Wendy arrived, this probably pushed him over the edge. Andy swaps out the other shield module with a fresh one and I’m back to full strength.

  I see bolts of energy thrown like spears from Delgado like some ancient Greek warrior trying to bring down a cyclops. Larry shrugs them off like bee stings as his arms stretch out try to catch Holy Ghost in his giant energy hands. It’s only a matter of time.

  “Larry’s got this,” I say to Andy. “Where’s Grace?”

  “Ninety-three percent chance he is fleeing. There is too much interference to accurately determine.”

  I didn’t like it. Apostle isn’t that attached to his Faithful and is more than willing to sacrifice them. His “blessing” weakens over the course of seven days until it disappears completely—very biblical and all that happy horseshit, but Apostle could always find new replacements. Rumor is that he had a waiting list. Some wanted to live, others wanted revenge, and the rest probably just wanted to score a big payday before their death.

  My concerns become a reality as The Grace of the Almighty returns, knifing through the buffeting winds with some kind of high-yield suicide vest strapped to him, aiming for the side of Big Red. Wendy rockets high and away on instinct and Larry barely has time to process what Andy is saying before the speedster disintegrates in a ball of flames, toppling my friend. Delgado wastes no time and attacks Larry like a man possessed. My friend’s energy form does the equivalent of a fetal ball to protect him.

  I use my jetpack and leapfrog over Larry, coming down between him and Holy Ghost. I see the crazed look in the man’s eyes. He doesn’t care whether he lives or dies.

  Funny thing is, I don’t care whether he does either. My chaingun starts up again, and I bracket him with all three plasma cannons. Then I unleash my own personal Armageddon on him.

  His attacks on Larry stop and within a few seconds, this incarnation of The Holy Ghost receives his ticket to the afterlife.

  I probably won’t score any points with the other heroes who came here wanting to “observe” Megasuit, but the world needs people like Larry Hitt and Wendy LaGuardia to save it . . .

  And they need someone like me to do what’s necessary to make sure they are around to be the real heroes.

  I can live with that.

  Chapter Four

  Awful Truths Disguised as Pillow Talk

  In the cleanup from the mess that was our little Mexican adventure, we didn’t learn very much. Karina and her husband, along with Paper Tiger, captured nine Manglermals. They were all low-level foot soldiers and whatever leads they offered were not worth spending any time on. White Rhino had been out of the camp when it was attacked. The consensus was that General Devious and the Apostle had set a trap to see who was going to come looking for José Six Pack.

  Andy is still checking through what little electronic salvage we recovered from the site. Unfortunately, the explosions, tornado, and the plasma discharges did not leave too much that could be forensically analyzed.

  Unfortunately, we don’t really do subtle, even by the loosest definition of the word.

  Even though we are fresh out of leads on José for the moment, I am in an upbeat mood. Stacy is almost here. Sure, the imposter is out on the talk show circuit and sucking up to the public in general. I’ll give credit where it’s due, the fake’s story is staying consistent. He even passed the genetic test Athena gave him, meaning he’s a clone or a really good shapeshifter. To me it smells like the Overlord’s handiwork. Our last encounter with me pulling off the Andydroid ruse left me realizing that the Archvillain would use unconventional tactics coming after us.

  That reminds me, I need to come up with a defense for overcharged power cell. It still burns my ass that they used one of my ideas and used it against me.

  Still, the world can piss off for a day. Stacy is on her way here. I’ve been a good little boy and only a few people died. I deserve a break. OK, maybe that’s a bad example. Fine, I’ve been a bad little boy and I deserve a spanking. Whichever way she wants to go, I’m covered.

  “Andy? Did the Flora finish cleaning up my room?” I ask, hissing a little. The dinoform has boosted my performance by a whopping eight percent on average. I’m still not close to Andy’s statistics, but I’m getting as close as humanly, or perhaps inhumanly, possible.

  “Yes, she did,” Andy answers.

  “Thanks, pal. I appreciate it.” I wonder if I should design a second set of controls for when I’m transformed.

  “You should thank her,” Andy answers. “She was the one that performed the task.”

  “Oh, you’re right,” I say, playing along. I bring up our ba
se chat application and click on Flora’s name. The woman’s face appears. “Thanks for taking care of my room and making dinner for when Stacy gets here.”

  “No problem, dear. You two are absolutely adorable together. I left a dress shirt and a pair of slacks out for you. I think Stacy would appreciate it if you dressed up for her.”

  Flora is really just a modified Type-A robot with a full cosmetic skin job. She and her “husband” James are Andy’s attempt at portraying a “normal” couple, who are renovating the property above our base and converting it into a bed and breakfast. Our only saving grace is that the locals know that Flora and James are from California; that seems to excuse their odd behavior.

  Andy is programming them to be human, which is amusing because Andydroid might be an excellent observer of the human condition, but he isn’t the best at actually applying it—like anyone actually is, but give him credit for trying.

  As a result, Flora enjoys interacting with me and tries to act like a big sister to me. James doesn’t like me at all and thinks I’m an ass. I’m fairly certain Andy is screwing with me, so at least I am keeping my friend entertained. They are our cover, our topside security, and can probably handle a SWAT unit, but not much more than that. We don’t really count them as part of the team.

  Neither of them likes Bobby, but that’s not a surprise since Andy shares the same opinion of my other friend.

  Maybe Andy is becoming more human than he realizes. I can’t really point fingers given that, depending on which day it is, I am either trying to turn myself into a dinosaur/human hybrid or looking for new ways to fully integrate myself into Megasuit.

  “When is Aphrodite arriving?” Wendy strolls down the stairs with our tiny poop producer in her arms. She never refers to my girlfriend as Stacy. Bobby thinks it’s a jealousy thing. Me? I can’t see Wendy acting the least bit attracted to me, even after I recruited her and my girlfriend wasn’t in the picture at all. So I’m in the camp of Wendy being slightly intimidated by Stacy’s presence and being extra angry when the Olympian is around.

  “T-minus two hours until Cal becomes less cranky,” I reply.

  “At least you didn’t lie and say that you’d be friendlier, but since you’re talking about yourself in third person, I think you need some human company. Until she gets here, mind dropping the whole lizard act and watching Gabrielle?”

  “Let me disconnect and turnover to Andy. What’s the weather like topside?”

  “It’s Alabama in late summer. Take a damn guess. But if you’re going to take her up for some fresh air, I can probably arrange a cool breeze. Both of you could use some sun.”

  I don’t need to be a meteorologist to forecast that it will be mostly bitchy down here if I don’t let Wendy have some alone time.

  Feeling Andy jack into Mega, I unhook and say, “I had it. You got it.”

  Not exactly a thorough turnover, but Andy will be on top of things within five seconds—probably less. And no, I’m not jealous one bit. Concentrating for a second, I feel the tail and claws begin to disappear as my body reverts to normal Cal Stringel. Stacy doesn’t know about my use of performance-enhancing magic yet. I figure I should try and surprise her.

  “That really fucking creeps me out,” Wendy says as I slip out of the lizard version of my control suit and hang it up next to the human version. Being naked in front of Wendy doesn’t bug me in the least, but I slide on a pair of boxers and then some shorts. My T-shirt says World’s Best Dinosaur Magic User.

  Nothing but the truth from me.

  • • •

  “Da,” Gabby says with pride and points at me. Talking is a new thing for her. Naturally, “Mama” came first, but given all the curse words that project from Wendy’s mouth on a regular basis, I am shocked Gabby’s first words didn’t have to be censored.

  Her black hair is in little pigtails. Wendy did them. My attempts are not nearly that symmetrical and apparently, that matters. But when Gabby’s hair is long enough for a ponytail, Wendy is in trouble. I have a programmable actuator and patterns that’ll do all kind of crazy things.

  Ruined a few wigs at first, but it hasn’t scalped a mannequin in three weeks. It should be kid-safe and mother-approved in another eight weeks.

  The breeze is nice. Having a weather manipulator running the team has benefits. I’m wearing a Crimson Tide ball cap and big sunglasses. Andy checks the satellite movements periodically, but there is always the likelihood that somebody has one up there that we don’t know about. Of course, there’s an imposter running around in California, so maybe it is just paranoia, which is my usual state. It reminds me that if I can ever reverse engineer the mirrors, we can find a way to move the base to Mars and be completely untouchable.

  I walk with Gabby in my arms around the pond. The level is still low from Megasuit’s firefighting adventures. Wendy steers storms into our area, but has to be careful that it isn’t too noticeable. Suffice to say Farmer’s Almanac is a little off this season.

  Inside of the workshop, I could see James working on our next defensive upgrade. A regular horse would struggle under the weight of a Type-A robot, so naturally the solution is to build a robot horse, right around the frame of a pulse cannon. We have a handful of Type B’s, but it’s easier to hide a fake horse on a bed and breakfast with the fake people. The downside is that with all of us pretty much hiding from the law, our stores of spare parts are running low.

  In the old days, I’d be searching the Internet for factories to knock over. This new lifestyle has me in the technological equivalent of blue balls.

  My daughter interrupts my pity party. “Owyn.” This translates to her wanting down.

  I grant her request and hold her arm so she can stagger around like a little drunken sailor. A little of the old fatherly pride appears. The colossal screwups in my life are longer than a line at the DMV on the last day of the month, but the little babbling hellion getting her exploring on is the one screwup that makes all those others worthwhile.

  It’s something I’m actually good at.

  Maybe the only thing that doesn’t involve killing.

  I wonder if Stacy would want . . .

  Better not finish that thought.

  Maybe I should talk to her first.

  Ease it into the conversation and feel her out on it.

  Probably wouldn’t go for it just yet.

  The press would hound her endlessly about who the father is.

  She wouldn’t anyway.

  But she says she loves me.

  • • •

  Instead of a hoversled, a nondescript black van pulls up in the driveway. James walks out to meet the driver and waves her on through after a second. I ease myself off the swing where I’ve been rocking the now-sleeping daughter. I feel like I’m carrying an extra five pounds of drool.

  Reaching the van just as it finishes backing up to the garage, I see Stacy smiling at me. She climbs out wearing a Redskins ball cap, a T-shirt, and shorts that look comfortable but still show a generous amount of leg.

  “Hey, you,” she says with a whisper. “I brought her some clothes and a couple of toys.”

  “Thanks. What happened? Lose your pilot’s license?” I tease. Technically, no one ever gets a license for hoversleds. Hell, I even flew them a couple of times . . . rather poorly, too. As far as I am concerned, hoversleds are for chumps who don’t want to learn how to use a jet pack.

  “Brought my armor along, Cal. I figured it was time to let you make good on those mods you keep mentioning.”

  I’m stunned. “You brought your armor for me to upgrade? How long are you staying?”

  “At least two weeks. Think you can complete the maintenance by then?”

  “Yeah, I think I can,” I reply.

  She smiles. “Well, make sure you reserve some play time. I like free labor and all that jazz, but I did come here to see you, loverboy.”

  “I’d offer to hand you Gabby and take your luggage, but we both know you’re stronger than I am.
Larry’s in town. I’ll ask him to float your armor down the elevator when he gets back.” The truth doesn’t really hurt in this case. So she’s stronger than I am. So what?

  “You look like Christmas has come early,” she states while wagging a suggestive finger at me.

  “You’re here, and you brought tech. Way better than a fat guy in a red suit.”

  Stacy hefts her suitcases with ease and follows me to the elevator. Her aura perks people up and Gabby is no exception. By the time we finish our descent, my daughter is wide awake and trying to coax my girlfriend into taking her. Her Aphrodite aura can affect kids and make them hyperactive.

  It has other effects on males, I’m happy to say.

  Only five minutes are required for Stacy to greet everyone here while I hand Gabby off to Wendy. I offer the lame excuse of having to help her unpack, which is a euphemism. At some point later, her suitcases will be unpacked, but now is not that time. As soon as the door to my suite shuts, I’m on her like a hormonal teenager.

  “Missed you,” I mutter between kisses. “Nice tan.”

  “You cleaned,” she observes and slides her lips across my neck.

  “Flora helped.” I see no reason to hide the truth. Stacy brings out the best in me. “She’s also making us dinner.”

  “Your team is so delightfully strange, Cal. You know that?”

  I can only nod because I really don’t want to have any deep discussions right now. I just want her, and my only plans at the moment involve showing her how much I have missed her for the next hour or so. Excluding the period where she thought I was dead, this has been our longest separation to date.

  • • •

  OK, so maybe I didn’t manage to last as long as I usually do, but she hit her second-level thing, so I feel my efforts weren’t wasted; points scored by all. Right now, I am snuggled in close with an arm around her body. We’re playing the talking game since most any other game would probably involve the Cal-falls-asleep game.

  Stacy sighs and says, “We should get up soon. Bitch gotta eat, if you know what I mean?”