Think fast, Stringel!
“I hope you didn’t kill him. I need his ass alive!” I scamper over to Omar and check him. Putting the underside of a claw to his throat, I feel a pulse and see he is still breathing. Just to be sure, I stun him with my taser anyway.
When I stand, I see Athena looking at me, energy spear in hand, a curious expression on her face. “No honor among thieves, huh?”
“Give it a rest, Crenshaw,” I say. “I’m on your side.”
She seems unconvinced. “Tell me another lie, Mangler!”
Time to wind up another rendition of my second favorite song—the big lie. I need a name. How about the drummer that my band replaced me with when I left college?
One . . . two . . . three! “I’m Agent Matt Harrell, Homeland Security. My mission is to let this idiot bring me to their base and try to get the location back to my superiors.”
“Like I’d believe that.”
“Get on your communicator and call S—Aphrodite. I’ve worked with her in the past. Tell her . . . tell her you’re with Little Winky. She knows who I am and will vouch for me.”
I want to gouge my eyes out at having to say that.
It takes her a long minute to get confirmation. “Little Winky, huh? She vouches for you. How are you going to handle this?”
“Wait five minutes and call in that you disabled the two of us, but you had to leave us. Devious has helicopters hidden by magic for the getaway. Don’t look for the one on the Stratosphere’s parking garage, that’s where I’m taking jackass here. You might check the roofs of the garages by the other hotels, though. Give me fifteen minutes before you move on those.”
Athena sizes me up and seems impressed. “OK, Agent Harrell. You’ve got your fifteen minutes. Good luck with your mission. You’re going to need it. Pretty ballsy, sneaking into a telepath’s base.”
First I had to use Stacy’s pet name for my lizard form, and now Holly Crenshaw is complimenting me. It’s been one of those days, and it’s not even close to being over.
This is precisely why I don’t like going into the field.
She offers me her best guess of how to get from here to the extraction point without running into further trouble while I collect Dumbass and his suit. It doesn’t look like Omar will be joining me anytime soon, so I’ll have to carry his body and the suit as well.
Just because I can carry several hundred pounds doesn’t mean I like the weight on my shoulders.
I suppose there is no use in complaining.
Though it won’t stop me from doing it.
• • •
Two of General Devious’s armed thugs wave me over to what looks like a pair of delivery vans parked side by side. As I pass around the back, I feel the tingle of magic across my body and I see the loading ramp of a cargo helicopter in front of me.
Ascending the ramp, I shout, “Is there a medic? Omar’s injured!”
While I set the damaged speed suit on a bench, a woman with short purple-and-blue-tinted blonde hair, in black BDUs, gestures to a body board. “Set him down here, gently. What happened?”
“Athena knocked him into a van, pretty hard. He hasn’t been awake since. I had to leave him for a couple of minutes so I could ditch her and circle back.”
I start playing the part of the concerned friend while the medic opens the seal of his control suit and splits it down the middle. She runs her hands down his chest and looks at the bruises on his ribcage. “Possible head trauma. Can’t tell if the ribs are broken until we get back to base, but it looks like they are. Pulse is steady, but weak. Get the kit off the wall over there and bring it to me!”
I grab the box and kneel next to the medic. “Is he gonna be OK?”
“Does he have any powers?”
“No, just tech.” At least I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any real powers. If I had my armor, I could check the database. Then again, if I had my armor, I wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“Tough to say,” she answers. “I’ll stabilize him for now and we’ll take him to the infirmary when we get back, but I’m not going to make any promises. You might be better off just taking him to a hospital. Help me with the straps, we’ll secure him to the board for transport. I can stay and monitor him unless we have someone in worse shape.”
“Just do what you can,” I say and lean down to the injured villain. “You hang in there, buddy. They’ll get you fixed up! Just hold tight!”
. . . and the Oscar for best actor in a real-life drama goes to . . .
I recognize a few of the others already sitting in their rumble seats. A very familiar one-eyed woman is looking back at me.
“Who’re you? I don’t remember you, but you look familiar. We ever work together?”
“Bad Raptor,” I answer with a pun on bad wrap. “Or Matt if we’re being friendly. I’d remember working with you, She-Clops.”
“I didn’t know VZ had any Mangler friends.”
“He probably doesn’t consider me a friend, but I consider him one. He calls me when he needs extra muscle.”
“Oh,” she says with a look of utter disgust on her face and shakes her left hand from side to side. “Ah, spare me the afterschool special drama. Did you manage to grab anything valuable?”
“Too busy getting him and making it back here.”
“Pity,” she says and pats the duffle bag next to her. “I was hoping to do some bartering on the flight back to wherever we’re headed. I happened to pass by several jewelry stores.”
I’m not banking on Jeannie’s route being a coincidence. I don’t really care, but I remember the not-so distant past where I was a criminal. Criminals almost always are interested in someone else’s haul. It’s an industry rife with jealousy.
“Got anything good?”
She gives me a distasteful look. “Considering you’ve got nothing to barter with, I don’t think so. Why don’t you go crawl into some hole, you filthy animal, before I look at you the wrong way?”
As the other villains around her snicker, I suddenly grasp the reason why so many Manglermals have a chip on their shoulders about being treated like third-class citizens. I’ll remember this next time Bobby starts in on She-Clops having a thing for me. She might have held her tongue if I wasn’t the only one onboard, but knowing Jeannie like I do, I doubt it.
Still, She-Clops isn’t stupid. If she did anything, it might blow a hole in our getaway ride, so it’s just an idle threat. I sneer at her and flip my shield vest off and sit across from her next to where the medic is still tending to Omar. Pulling the busted Velocizapper suit in front of me, I ignore the others and take stock of it. The synthmuscle in it is high quality. It has to be to take the pounding. It looks like the bundles are encased in a sheath with a heating mechanism in it to keep the fake muscles at their most flexible temperature.
It’s a smart move and prolongs the service life of the synth. Even so, it makes for a hot suit, which is the reason he lobs those little balls of plasma—to get rid of the excess heat.
The suit makes much more sense now, and I appreciate the simplicity of the design. I bet I can build a knockoff pretty easily that Andy could use. Considering how fast he thinks, giving him a speed upgrade would make him infinitely more effective. Hell, give him a tiny mirror fragment for a powerline and a data cable and he could run this suit remotely just like I do.
Seven other villains run up the ramp, followed by the two guards. Both of the guards rush to the cockpit to speak with the pilots. One of the new arrivals is an Ox-Man with his coat dyed blue, carrying what might very well be the large gold nugget from the casino of the same name. I’ve heard of this guy. He calls himself Babe, as in Paul Bunyan’s ox.
The blue ox gives me a nod and says, “Strap in, if you can, or hold on like I’m gonna! Word just came down that they found one of the getaway choppers near the old strip. We’re outta here.”
The ramp begins to rise and the engines start. Another thing I notice is that the viewports have pola
rized and darkened, making it impossible to tell which direction we are heading.
At this juncture, I begin to wish I’d grabbed a jetpack. If this chopper gets shot down, I might regret telling Athena about the helicopters, in addition to the whole possibly dying part.
Before I can strap in, the medic asks me to tie the body board with VZ on it down to the eyebolts in the floor. It gives me something to do other than worry about perishing in a ball of flames, so I give her a hand. I even slide the broken speed suit into the seat and strap it in as we take off. It wouldn’t do to have that thing suddenly become a missile hazard during flight. Also, I hate the idea of perfectly good tech taking unnecessary damage.
After all, I’m supposed to be the helpful, good guy, right? Yeah, I’m really just looking out after my own ass. Sue me.
It becomes glaringly obvious that the pilots have no real regard for human or superhuman life as they treat this cargo helicopter like it is a damn Apache.
Terrifying minutes pass as we cut through the air. I can only hazard a guess that we’re flying near street level. With every abrupt direction change, my heart plummets slightly and I fight back the desire to blow chunks. This sucks way more than riding those stupid hoversleds. I guess I really don’t care for rides in a low-flying helicopter executing vicious turns with no way to tell whether it’s just a precaution or whether we are under attack. Call me crazy.
Babe looks like he’s going to toss his cookies any second, and Jeannie has already gone to the barf bag once. There really isn’t any good choice for me to look at, so I try and close my eyes, which leaves me unprepared for when the Mangler seated to my right cuts loose.
The sound and the smell assault me, and I last maybe ten seconds before I’m scrabbling for my own little baggie and joining Club Ralph.
And to think, my day started off so nicely. The chocolate chip pancakes and breakfast sausages were great, but not so much the second time around. I don’t think I’ll be having them again for a few weeks.
At this point, even the medic loses her own battle.
“Good thing nobody ran through one of those all-you-can-eat buffets,” I mutter.
The blue ox gives me a tired-looking smile. “I just can’t wait to get paid and maybe swing back by this way and find that little ranch by the border.”
I nod, but say, “Heard some shit went down that way recently. Might not be a good idea. There’s even a rumor that the Feds had someone on staff, and a couple of agents died during a raid.”
Bobby owns part of that brothel, though the majority owner probably isn’t very fond of him right now considering he robbed her and killed a few agents on the grounds.
“Really? Aw, man! This is why we can’t have nice things!”
“Cry me a river there, Rocky Mountain Oysters,” Jeannie interrupts. “Must be your first time working for the General. She always puts her bases into lockdown for at least seventy-two hours after an op. You ain’t going nowhere. So if you are really looking for some action, you might want to ask your lizard buddy if he takes it up the ass.”
Figuratively, all the time. Literally? Nope. Man! Talk about seeing a different side to She-Clops.
At least ten more minutes pass before the chopper levels out and flies normally. One of the guards gets a can of air freshener and makes several passes through the cargo area, so the place can smell like lilac-scented vomit. Meanwhile, I make a mental note to get the pilot’s name. If possible, I’d like to kill him or her. If not, I want to hire them and use this as an interrogation technique in the future.
• • •
They let us off and we’re directed into a hangar. It has to be the Mexico site. There is no way we flew long enough to get that far south, even with those crazy-ass pilots. I have Omar’s suit over my shoulder and am holding the back-end of the body board. Babe is nice enough, I suppose, to help. We double time it and cut in front of several others to the elevator. This has the benefit of getting me inside the base ahead of the rest.
Yay, me!
By this point, I’ve finalized my plan. I’m going to play the concerned friend, ask for some lab space where I can work on VZ’s suit, activate my tracking device, and hole up until Andy brings my suit to get me the hell of here.
I try not to think about what could possibly go wrong.
Dammit! Jinxed myself.
We descend for perhaps twenty seconds and the door opens up, revealing a waiting medical team. Babe and I follow the instructions and get Omar and the board onto the gurney. The medic calls out his injuries and I follow as closely as I’m allowed.
They wheel him into the OR, and the medic stops me. “This is where we stop. We don’t really have a waiting room here, either. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Your friend is in very bad shape and even if they do save him, it will probably be a long time before he can wear his armor again.”
“I understand. I’ll just have to pray for their success.”
Actually, it would be better for me if they don’t, but I can’t exactly say that to her.
“As will I. Why don’t you head down to the debriefing rooms and I’ll try and find you if there’s any news about your friend. I didn’t catch your name.”
She’s surprisingly nice for a person who works for a boss-level villain, especially given the nasty treatment most Manglers get.
“Matt Harrell, and thanks,” I say. “But I’d rather find a lab where I can try and patch Omar’s armor up. He’ll be asking about it the moment he wakes up.”
The woman nods. “Go down three more floors. Those are where the machine shops are. I hope your friend makes it. If you need to find me, ask for Nurse Sharper.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks for looking past the skin, too.”
She smiles and I wonder if she’s a true “animal lover.” If she is, she’d be really disappointed by Little Winky.
“No problem. My brother and my cousin did the transformation. Paulo made it, but Vinnie didn’t. The money helped pay for my nursing degree. Plus, there seems to be a lot of you guys around here lately.”
I’m genuinely grateful. Her last sentence tells me pretty much everything I need to know. Odds are that José is here.
I shuffle off toward the elevators and take a trip down to the machine shop level. There, I make it until I fake it. One thing I’ve learned about being at a villain’s hideout is act like you belong, so I just hiss at one of the techs and tell him I need a spot to work on the armor while ordering him to grab a spool of synthmuscle, a manual winder, and a diagnostics cart.
The man in the lab coat points three doors down and tells me he’ll grab what I need. The room is about what I expect from a run-of-the-mill workshop. It’s certainly not up to my standards or anything like that, but I’ll manage. Most importantly, I can now reach into the pouch on the back of my force field vest and . . . feel the tiny pieces of my pulverized GPS tracker with two of my claws.
When did I take a hit hard enough to do that? Shit, Crenshaw’s energy spear! Once again jacked over by Athena! Son of a bitch! They won’t know which location I’m at! Of course, depending on how far down I am, the signal might be blocked or even jammed.
This day just keeps getting worse. I’m a damn technohermit for a reason!
I’m still fuming internally when the tech arrives with a diagnostics cart and the rest of the material I asked for. He offers to stay and help, but I tell him that I’ll call if I need him. I might, actually—these claws are not exactly suited for human-sized tools. I’d be tempted to turn back, but I’m willing to bet there is at least one camera in here and fiddling with it would show that I’m up to no good. So I act like someone trying to fix a powersuit.
It’s the role I was born to play.
Thirty minutes pass and I’m starting to get hungry when Gina opens the door. She looks rather downcast. “I’ve got good news and bad news. Your friend survived the first operations, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. The doctors wanted me to tell you that there
was serious bleeding in the brain and things don’t look good. Even if you’d gotten off the helicopter and run to the nearest hospital, he’d probably be in just as bad condition.”
“And I’d be in jail. Thank you for taking the time to tell me,” I say, feeling only slightly sad for the current condition of Omar What’s-his-last-name-anyway.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“No, but if you could get me some food and bring it here, I would be thankful.”
“Of course.” She points to the table. “You know you don’t have to . . . ”
Time to lay it on thick. “Yes, yes, I think I do. I will fix his armor, and if I can’t find someone worthy to wear it, then I will wear it for him. Besides, I’m guessing all this medical care ain’t cheap. When he gets back on his feet, he’s going to need cash.”
“He must be a good man to deserve your loyalty, Matt. I’ll go to the cafeteria and bring you back something.”
She leaves and I consider the irony of this good news. Hopefully, word will spread and the people will leave “Velocizapper’s concerned Manglermal friend” alone. I can only guess that somewhere between forty-eight hours and one week, my team and Stacy’s will launch dual assaults on the two locations. Hopefully, I’m actually at the one where she shows up. My gut says not to even bother creating a new transmitter. The base is too far underground for the signal to carry, and something tells me that there are people in the base just watching for any stray signals.”
For the first time in a long time, I’m on my own. I’m stuck in an enemy base, hoping that my lies will continue to mask the truth.
That’s not a good thing. If Devious is here, my lies might go up in flames pretty quick. No pressure there whatsoever.
But I’m also Calvin Matthew Stringel, in a workshop with a set of armor and enough tech that I can remake it in my own image.
Time to prove that I can still work my mojo without pieces of a magic teleportation mirror.
I like a good challenge. Bring it on!
Chapter Nine
Rise of a D-List Supervillain Page 11
