Rise of a D-List Supervillain

by Jim Bernheimer

  “Actually, I think they were restored after you died,” she replies, making air quotes on the last word. “You must not have gotten the memo, being deceased and whatnot.”

  “Oh,” I continue, somewhat surprised I had missed that infonugget. “Guess I was too busy with my whole dying thing to notice that one. I’m back to being wise and learned Cal again. Well, I hope you enjoy your trip to sunny Florida. Are you going to swing by your old school on the way?”

  “Probably.”

  Stacy attended Rollins College in Winter Park—double major mathematics and elementary education. Had fate, and apparently alien-empowered Greek gods, not interfered, she would have been the crush of preteen boys in some little school out there. Instead, she’s the crush of damn near everyone on the planet, a crush who has to shoulder the weight of the world and be a positive role model for all to see.

  I know she sometimes wonders if that wouldn’t have been a better life. The only thing people would say about my being a positive role model is that they would be positive I shouldn’t be one.

  “The fake shield generator will go in your forward arc. If you’re close to losing your shields, we’ll signal you from here. That should give you enough time to pivot out of the way and we can hot swap a spare into your armor for some instant reinforcement.”

  “Nice. Are you going to touch the weapons systems?”

  Oh, a bonus request! “You’ve got the one force blaster and thorax-mounted sonics for crowd control. Are you looking to get more offensive? I could give you some serious teeth.”

  “I’m not sure, but I’d like to have more options. Plus, since you have power to spare coming into this suit, it wouldn’t hurt to add some more energy-based weapons. I suppose my own railgun is out of the question?”

  I can’t fault her for dreaming big, but asking for her own railgun? Seriously?

  “Unfortunately, the base can’t support the requirements right now. Plus, that’s my signature weapon . . . no touchy!”

  “Possessive much?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” I notice some loose wiring that needs to be secured; sloppy work on my part, but in my defense I built this suit out of what little I had in this base at the time. Then again, it could have gotten loose during regular use, so maybe I’ll wait and see how this next week plays out before committing to designing a new weapons suite.

  “I went light on the synthmuscle because of your natural strength; do you want me to do it right this time? It might make things a bit more cramped in there than you’re used to.”

  “Will that satisfy your tinkering needs?” Stacy asks.

  “Probably not, but it should tide me over for now. We have to discuss a small matter of payment.”

  “No good girlfriend discounts?”

  “Actually, I would be more inclined to hand out a bad girlfriend discount, especially if you’re naughty. Seriously though, without access to Wendy’s money and with no real legal standing, I need you to do some spare parts shopping if you are up for it?”

  “Depends on what you need,” she states thoughtfully. “Delivery van-sized order? I can probably swing without any major problems. If you want a full semi worth of stuff, that might be an issue.”

  The Love Goddess drives a hard bargain, but I take what I can get.

  “So how is Paper Tiger fitting in with your team?”

  “He’s not, really,” I reply. “Phipps is kind of boring, if you ask me. His power is cool and he really can get around, but that’s about it.”

  “So you’re not looking to have him join your garage band anytime soon?” she asks, referring to one of the ways we pass the time down in the base. I’ve spent so much time practicing on my drum set that I’m as good as I ever was back in my college days.

  “I’m still holding out for you joining. We need the hot chick to expand our demographic, and Wendy can’t play and her singing cries out for auto tune. How’s your singing voice?”

  Stacy does the universal “so-so” gesture with her left hand. “I took piano when I was younger, but hiding the hot chick behind a keyboard defeats the purpose of objectifying me like that.”

  Considering she’s a super powered quasi-immortal, my girlfriend is refreshingly down to earth.

  “Yes, that does present a problem.”

  “I could learn the keytar. It’s high time for that to have a comeback.”

  “I’m having ‘My Prerogative’ flashbacks now. If you’re going that route, why not be the woman playing the saxophone instead?”

  Stacy shakes her head and sadly says, “I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m pretty sure she wasn’t really playing.”

  “No! No! Don’t you dare kill the fantasy! What the hell were we talking about again before we got sidetracked with this?”

  “I was asking about Charles fitting in,” she says. “Or something like that.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Long story short, with José gone, he’s spending more time with the Gulf Coasters tracking down leads and participating in that ever-popular monitor duty. I really miss that crap!”

  “Easy on the sarcasm, honey.”

  “Most days, it’s all I know,” I reply and walk over to the workbench. I finish the list in my hands and compare it to the screen of our available inventory. I will have to be tight on my synthmuscle to make it last. “Andy can break all this out of storage. Ready for a surprise?”

  “Lay it on me, Cal.”

  I walk over to where my neural interface suits hang and select the one with my magic belt on it and drop my shorts.

  “Not exactly a new surprise,” she says, looking over my naked form as I pull on the suit. “Been there, done that.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re pretty acerbic for someone who is supposed to be the world’s girl next door. You know that, right?”

  “Did you run out of fabric to cover your ass, or are you going for the techno-cowboy chaps look? I didn’t bring any dollar bills with me, so if you’re going to be doing any dancing, you might be disappointed. If we can get Bobby in his motorcycle jacket, Larry in a sailor suit, and Andy as a construction worker, you’d be well on your way to being a Village People cover band.”

  “You’re so mean! However, I am in an unusually good mood today for some reason, so I’m gonna let that slide. Are you ready to be astounded?”

  “As ready as I can be.”

  I chant under my breath and begin the transformation, letting the ancient dinosaur magic slither across my body. My best time so far has been twenty-two seconds. It’s not painful anymore, merely uncomfortable.

  Finished, I pivot and swish my short tail. “Needed the opening for this,” I say with a definite hiss in my voice. “What do you think?”

  “OK, you look like a Mangler in techno-cowboy chaps. Pretty cool, but I’m not sure what it gets you.”

  “Increased reaction time, better balance, and the utter awesomeness of being the only armor-wearing dinosaur/human hybrid mage in existence.”

  “You really do have a lot of free time on your hands, Cal. Maybe too much,” she says.

  “You no likey?” I ask, and it sounds utterly ridiculous in my current form. She looks underwhelmed. Maybe she is mad that my winky virtually disappears in this form.

  “It’s interesting,” she replies and pauses, obviously searching for the words to say what she means without pissing me off. “I just don’t see the benefit yet.”

  “Well, if I can figure out how to hide the belt, I can pass for a Manglermal and maybe infiltrate them. It might get us closer to José. With the fake running around out there, who would connect me with Cal Stringel? I might as well get some of mileage out of all this and whatnot.”

  Stacy nods in agreement. “OK, that makes sense, or at least as much as I can take today. How strong are you like that?”

  “I can lift about five hundred pounds, better reflexes, and I suppose I’m a better climber; but I invent jetpacks if I need to do any climbing. All in all, it’s not that spectacular, but i
t’s more than I could ever manage on my best day. You still don’t like it, do you?”

  “Would it make you feel better if you knew I had a fear of lizards and snakes as a kid?”

  “A little,” I answer. “Is there a funny story connected to it?”

  “Not really. More like a six-year-old girl screaming her ass off.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Well, you could get some of those parachute pants to hide the belt and be a late-eighties rapper. Just give me a warning before you do, so I can gouge my eyes out.”

  It’s probably as close as I can get to a compliment out of her right now.

  “I thought you’d like it.” A lizardman hissing a whiny line like that. It’s not a sight often seen.

  “I like that you are still exploring Tyrannosorcerer Rex’s magic, and it would put you on even terms with any Manglermals you came across, but I like the real Cal Stringel, not an imposter, and not dinosaur enhanced. If you’re fishing for compliments, then yes, you really have something unusual here. It’s really out there! Seriously. What I don’t want you to do is stop experimenting and tinkering. Your persistence is what makes you amazing, and not always the results you achieve.”

  I can’t help smiling through her somewhat backhanded compliment. Stacy can lay it on thick when she needs to.

  • • •

  Andy’s new robot body is another project I’ve been working on, and it isn’t going well. I’m not exactly guilt-ridden over this, but if we are being honest, I am struggling with making it. Andy has moved on to practicing subtlety, and by practicing I mean dropping hints about how much he has done around here and how much more he could do if properly equipped.

  My normal creations lack elegance but make it up for it in destructive power. I’m just not an artist like Doctor Albright. Anything sturdy enough by my standards looks like so much industrial crap, and the efforts that appear nice with tight lines are just too damn flimsy.

  I’m cheating as much as I can with mirror fragments providing power and freeing up room in the design, but it doesn’t seem to be coming together at all. Sucking at something dredges up all my old memories of inadequacy.

  Maybe I’m overthinking it. I do that a lot.

  I’ve offered to go bust up some of Andy’s siblings and collect some spare parts.

  Needless to say, that idea was rejected. My workshop is good, but nothing like Doctor Albright’s laboratories. He’s able to fold the metal over on itself, many times over, and thicken it to allow human-like shapes that no one else on the planet, not even Patterson’s corporation, can match.

  Magic can’t help me with this. I need better tech to make this happen, and we don’t have the space, money, or the ability to shop for the things that would allow me to get in the ballpark of what the leading robotics expert in the world is capable of.

  Stacy arrives to witness my technological impotence. “Hey, Cal. Oh, I know that look. What’s wrong?”

  I regard my girlfriend, fresh from a well-deserved nap. “Got any inspiration to spare? I’m fresh out of ideas and I could use your perspective.”

  Since she read my book, Stacy knows that she is my personal muse. Her offhand comments have led to some of my best ideas—even one that saved the world.

  “OK, break the problem down for me and I’ll see if I can think of something fresh.”

  She listens to my whining and my complaints. I let her mull it over while she inspects my less-than-usable efforts to date. It’s like Goldilocks and the three mechanical limbs; none of them end up being just right.

  “Well, since you don’t have the machinery, and magic is useless, what else do you have to work with?”

  “Just us chickens,” I answer.

  “What about Larry?” Stacy says in a curious tone.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  She grabs a cross section of metal and explains. “He’s a world-class telekinetic. He can take a three-inch-thick sheet of steel like this and crumple it like a used Kleenex. Why not see if he can use his abilities to get you super dense material? Something no press or annealing machine is capable of.”

  I do my best to try and poke holes in her rather promising theory. “Um . . . that can’t . . . well, maybe it could . . . no, it might make the metal too brittle.”

  “What about carbon fiber, then?”

  “That could work,” I say. “Maybe a composite blend of the two. You know, I can work with that! You . . . you are a genius!”

  She laughs. “I know. But you just want me for my body.”

  No sense in denying the truth. “That’s true, but I appreciate your brilliant mind, too.”

  “Well, you’re always looking for ways that you can cheat, but you are focused on you. Don’t forget about the things your teammates can do when you’re looking for ways to beat the system. Bring them outside the box with you and all that happy horseshit.”

  She’s right. I do get tunnel vision and am a little arrogant, just a tiny, tiny bit. Every solution doesn’t have to come from me. “I can get Andy to run the numbers after Larry does some test compressions to get the right ratio of carbon to steel.”

  It seems like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I couldn’t solve this myself. Then again, Doctor Albright has a staff and a team of highly skilled people. I don’t hate the man. . . Hell! I respect Albright for trying to make the world a better place and am jealous of his expertise. Even when I beat Patterson and his army of engineers, I still had help. Maybe that’s the lesson I need to learn, because General Devious and The Overlord are still out there, and they never fight fair or alone.

  So I won’t, either. I have something no one else on the planet has, and I’m going to ask him to hook a brother up!

  A new branch of possibilities is open to me—achievement unlocked and all that shit. How tightly can Larry wind strands of synthmuscle? Opportunity knocks, and I need to stretch my legs anyway, so I might as well answer the door.

  Sometimes the greatest superpower of all is knowing when to ask for help.

  • • •

  “I give you . . . Alloy-L!” I scream and hold up a length of the blackish composite material, like I’m Moses showing off the Ten Commandments.

  Thou shalt be strong!

  “Can you keep it down, Cal? I’ve got a splitting headache,” the Alloy’s namesake says while massaging his temples. “I haven’t concentrated that hard in a long, long time.”

  “Sorry Larry,” I answer. “I can finally put a body together for Andy that’s worth a damn. This is huge, and I have you to thank for it.”

  The material is stronger than steel and significantly easier to work with than metal. What I have in my hands is going to be Andy’s lower left leg. I am half-tempted to launch into a rousing rendition of “Just A Friend” because I finally have what I need.

  “Do we shatter a champagne bottle on it or something?” Wendy asks before adding, “I might miss and hit you.”

  I point the material at her like a magic wand. “You can try, boss lady, but you’re not going to ruin this moment. I’d like to thank the Academy for this award, my lovely girlfriend for the inspiration, Andy for being patient, Bobby for showering, and of course Larry for making all this possible.”

  “The new material meets all the necessary parameters,” Andy states, while Bobby flips me off. “How soon do you anticipate having my new body completed?”

  “Two weeks, depending on how much Larry can make at a time. After that, we can move on to making a set of plating to replace the exterior of Megasuit.”

  Stacy laughs. “But you have all those powerful shields. Shouldn’t the next batch be for my armor? I did give you the idea to enlist Larry’s help after all.”

  She’s a traitor, but I do have to agree with her—even if I don’t want to.

  “I didn’t know your inspiration came with a price tag, but I suppose you do need more protection in that itty bitty suit of yours. We will have to figure out later how to add different colors to
the material and see if we can match the Centurion’s current scheme.”

  “You mean Andy’s gonna be a black robot now? Shit! Now he’s gonna get profiled by the police all the damn time!”

  Everyone in the room, with the exception of the android in question, groans at Bobby’s attempt at humor.

  “Congratulations, Cal,” Stacy says and gives me a congratulatory peck on the cheek. “Unfortunately, I have to get going now.”

  “Sure you won’t stay a few more days?” I ask, already knowing what the answer is.

  “Unlike you, I’ve got a job and people expecting me. I’m sure the tabloids are on the edge wondering where I am.”

  We all traipse upstairs and ride the elevator up to the surface. Stacy holds Gabby during the short trip and my daughter is already getting fussy. She senses that the Olympian is heading out. I put on a brave face—stoic, very stoic—and reclaim my equally unhappy daughter while the love goddess gives us both a hug goodbye. I am beginning to think that part of Wendy’s dislike for Stacy is centered on how much Gabby adores the Olympian.

  No jealousy issues there whatsoever. On the other hand, I don’t really mind when Paper Tiger holds Gabby. I’m not threatened by an animated drawing of a tiger. It’s a bonus when Gabby yanks on his whiskers. That shit has to hurt!

  The base is going to feel empty soon. Bobby has a lead on one of Larry’s baby mammas, so Bobby is once again becoming The Highwayman. Larry is taking a couple of days off right after we finish our first full-production run of Alloy-L. Phipps is headed back to the Gulf Coasters and then to South America again to search for José. Wendy is actually going to Havana, where she plans to meet secretly with her mother in what can be considered “neutral territory.” Mrs. LaGuardia is hoping to broker some kind of deal where Wendy can go back to the real world. I’m on the fence about that. Wendy can drive me up the wall and vice versa, but if she is here, so is Gabby.

  Both Wendy and I have our doubts, but the boss will have Megasuit there to back her up, and there will be plenty of foreign press there for Wendy to speak to without U.S. interference if this deal never materializes. It’s also time to go on a PR offensive against the fake Cal Stringel. That asshole has been running his mouth and stirring up trouble. Either fake Cal has adopted Megan Bostic’s anti-superhuman stance or she is using him to advance it. Wendy’s pappy is using both of them as well.