Secrets of a D-List Supervillain

by Jim Bernheimer

  “Language, Wendy. You’re supposed to be her role model. Unless you want her taking after me? Yeah, didn’t think so. All right boss lady, what’s your plan?”

  The tiny tornado maker flashes an evil smile as I’m assaulted by Gabby’s foul odor. “I guess I’ve been hanging around with you too long, because I’m pretty sure this will meet your approval.”

  “Well, in that case, let’s hear what you’ve got in mind. The Cal Stringel seal of approval doesn’t come easily, so you’d better impress me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  WWCSD

  “You okay, Larry? I can slow down if you want?” Mega is cruising at two hundred-fifty miles per hour over the rolling landscape of the western part of Virginia, staying fairly close to the ground to avoid showing up on radar. Two minutes ago, I’d brought him through the poop chute, but he wasn’t holding up well with the landscape zipping past him.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little nauseous. Still getting used to all this flying around stuff.”

  One of the most powerful people on the planet and he gets airsick.

  “Sorry we couldn’t just let Mega land and use the poop chute when we get there. I don’t want to lose that advantage. We’re probably close enough to go higher.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  Flipping over to my private channel to Stacy’s armor, I contact her. “Hey, Stacy, are you monitoring this channel?”

  There’re a few seconds of dead air before she comes on. “What’s going on? I rigged a light on my HUD for when this channel is active.”

  “Good idea! But, you’re not hanging on my every word? I’m hurt.”

  “I can hurt you worse if you’d like,” she offers.

  “I’ll pass. Larry is getting motion sick, so I’m going to go ahead and get some altitude. We’re probably going to show up on some radar system shortly, and we’ll be making a beeline for Mount Olympus. Looks like the show is going to start a few minutes early. Are you ready? Who else is there?”

  “Athena, Ares, Hermes, Hestia, and me.”

  “Ares all healed up?” I’m hedging my bets. I doubt there is going to be a fight, Stacy isn’t about to let me pound on her friends. I’m not really looking forward to seeing Holly Crenshaw again, but it might make our little ruse easier to sell.

  “He’s still limping a little, but he could go if need be. Hera and Apollo are in DC. Gravmatar is with them, so they can be here very quickly. Don’t be surprised if they are.”

  “Well, let’s make sure this doesn’t spiral out of control. See you in a few minutes, I’d have brought flowers, but that would seem odd.”

  “Nice try,” she says.

  “Besides, any flowers, no matter how beautiful, would pale next to you.”

  “Laying it on thick now, aren’t you?”

  I am, but that’s not the point. She brings out the need for witty banter. “How’s your mom and dad?”

  “I went to their house for dinner the other night, Mom is wondering when I’m going to start dating again.”

  “I’m not exactly her favorite person, am I?” My inkblot comment in the book probably should have been cut, but in my defense, it was one of the most hilarious lines.

  “You have to ask?”

  “No, but I figured I would anyway,” I quip. “As long as I’m your favorite person, I’m good.”

  “Aw,” she says. “Rest assured; you’re in my top five.”

  “Serious burn!” Wendy says sitting down on the couch by the workbench.

  “No comments from the peanut gallery,” I say and check my instrumentation. “Someone’s picking me up. Might be that regional airport near Winchester. Roll out the welcome mat, Stacy. We’ll be there shortly.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  Turning to Wendy, I say, “So far so good. Do you think this is going to work?”

  The fiery tempered brunette nods. “You were the one who introduced the world to how gullible heroes are when it comes to The Big Lie. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.”

  “You need to warn me when you’re going to give me a compliment. Things like that need to be recorded for posterity.”

  She waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever, Cal. Just remember, we wouldn’t be doing this if you would just keep your big mouth shut.”

  If this had been a card game, she would be holding the trump card right now.

  “Person who got taken out by a sedative says what?”

  Yeah, I went there.

  “You’re so childish, Cal. It’s not one of your better traits. Do you know how many times I’ve looked in the mirror and asked myself why I signed on for this?”

  Stacy asks a question. “Who did you recruit first, Cal? Wendy or Larry?”

  “You want more storytime?”

  “I’ve got a few minutes to kill, at least until some jerk shows up to ruin my day.”

  “I might resemble that jerk,” I reply, and feign hurt. “If you must know, it was Larry.”

  • • •

  “What are you doing, Cal?”

  Andydroid’s head didn’t quite fit on the old Type A frame I’d put him on. His cranium was a little too small for the broad shoulders of the chassis. He looked like one of those people who’d ticked off a voodoo priestess and gotten their head partially shrunken. I’d get to his new body soon.

  “Just trying to create another list of who else we could recruit.”

  “I’ve also been compiling a roster of candidates,” Andy said.

  “You probably have a more complete list than I do,” I confess. “Let me hear what you got.”

  “Have you devised a suitable method for contacting WhirlWendy?”

  Helplessly, I shrugged. A plethora of scenarios played out in my mind, with none of them ending well for me, plus she had her bodyguard with her day and night now.

  “I think it might go better if I already had some other people on the team before I approach her.”

  “Have you considered your history with Edward Paulson?”

  “Eddie is a jackass,” I responded. “He is more trouble than he is worth; decent enough in a fight, but thinks way too much of himself. I’d end up babysitting him.”

  Andy processed my answer. “Very well. I will remove him from the list of possible members.”

  “So far, Bobby, you, and I won’t exactly frighten people into surrendering.”

  My robotic companion didn’t really bat an eye at Bobby’s inclusion. “Our problem appears to be that most of the significant heroes are aligned with the various teams already; and revealing your identity to the world at large would be counterproductive, and provide Ultraweapon’s defense lawyers with additional avenues to pursue Lazarus Patterson’s freedom.”

  “No kidding,” I practically growled. “No one wants that.”

  “Next, there is the matter of trust for individuals who are either villains or those not aligned with a team.”

  Wendy was someone I felt I could trust, but I had the advantage of her being pregnant with my child. Unless I suddenly became sperm donor to the supers, I didn’t see that being a draw for any other person.

  “What if I build you a second suit of armor?” I ask. “I’m just about finished with my set.”

  “The base’s powerplant is currently incapable of supporting a second set of the Mark IV Mechani-CAL armor. We would need to either increase our current capacity or reduce the effectiveness of both sets of armor.”

  Anyone who knows me will understand that reducing the effectiveness of a set of powered armor is the rough equivalent of making a sexual reference to a person’s sister in front of them.

  Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I could maybe build you a set based on the Mark III design. We could integrate you into the design and use the extra space for additional B and C powercells. It wouldn’t quite match the performance parameters of the new suit, but it would still be a significant upgrade.”

  “I would consider it,
but you will recall that I am programmed to not take human life except under extraordinary circumstances. I suspect this would not be an optimal result.”

  I started to say that maybe I could figure out a way to bypass Andy’s morality programming, but thought better of it. Somehow, I doubted he’d appreciate me trying to turn him into something no better than Patterson’s death machines.

  Instead, I went with, “You’re right, and we can’t exactly create our own superhumans.”

  “Technically, we can make one,” Andy said. When I appeared confused, he continued, “You still possess the necklace belonging to the deceased life partner of Chain Charmer. It gives the wearer superpowers.”

  “Yeah, I guess we could hold some kind of audition and see who gets the most useful powers from it, like Sheila had wanted to do, but it would be kind of difficult to keep something like that quiet.” I didn’t really need it anymore. With Andy’s assistance, I’d read all the plates into the base’s computer while he scanned them, and together we had built a human to dinosaur dictionary. Also, after so much practice, I’d gotten pretty good at reading all those reptoscratchings. I wasn’t about to translate Shakespeare or even Heinlein into it, but I could pretty much decipher things without the dictionary, with roughly eighty percent accuracy.

  Not too shabby for a dude who struggled with Italian in high school.

  Racking my mind for normal human acquaintances, I was a little short on normal people. The only names that came to mind were my college roommate Joey Hazelwood, and the woman who helped me write my “screw you all” memoir. Considering how Megan Bostic felt about the superhuman community in general, I discarded her because I was afraid of what I might unleash. As for Joey, he was an overweight pawn broker I hadn’t seen since before the bug invasion. He’d done a couple of interviews as someone who’d known the infamous Cal Stringel, after my run in with a fusion power core. To be honest, he’d seemed a little too eager to cash in on his fifteen minutes of fame and said a few surprisingly harsh things about yours truly. Mom? Dad? Not a chance.

  “I guess it doesn’t speak well of me that I can’t think of a single person I know who really deserves superpowers.”

  Andydroid doesn’t judge my lack of normal friends. “In my time as a solo hero in the Atlanta, Georgia area, I encountered several individuals who would benefit from superpowers. Would you like me to tell you about them?”

  I was feeling frustrated. “Sure. Why not? The necklaces only other use would be to halve a person’s powers and I don’t know how cutting someone’s powers in half would help us build a better super team, do you?”

  Andy’s head snapped up, almost breaking free from the chasis. “Cal, you may have stumbled onto the solution. There is, in fact, one superhuman who is too powerful, and he is unaffiliated with any group of superhumans.”

  It took a second to figure out who he was talking about, but the realization hit me harder than a telekinetic construct. “Holy shit! You’re right!”

  There was silence for a minute, who knows what Andy spent those processor cycles doing. I, on the other hand, wondered if this would work. I’d seen an insane Imaginary Larry beat Wendy in Charlotte. That kind of power... even only half that kind of power, wielded by someone in control of their faculties... it boggled the mind.

  “Andy,” I said, wondering if this was what The Prophiseer wanted me to do, and deciding it didn’t matter anyway because I was going to do it regardless. “We need to finish the armor and get it op checked. We’ll need it if we’re going to go up against Imaginary Larry.”

  • • •

  “There it is,” I say to Larry, cutting off Stacy’s storytime. “Mount Olympus in all its pretentious glory. Last time I fought here, I lost the battle, but won the war... I think.”

  Aphrodite’s previous interruptions of my thrilling retelling of how I decided to use the necklace on Larry let me know that the Olympians were on high alert. Hera, Apollo, and the Rigellian prince-in-exile had high tailed it back from DC using the Chariot, and were awaiting our arrival with the others. Apollo’s Chariot is some kind of self-repairing, high-speed construct that is able to cross great distances in short periods of time and can even reach escape velocity.

  How long would it take to recover from a hit with my railgun?

  I’m actually happier with the Olympian’s leader beating us here, because it meant I’d be dealing with her rather than Holly Crenshaw. Athena irritates the hell out of me. The alien and the Olympians, along with a dozen Type B gyroscopic ball robots and their two Type D warbots waited for us.

  The Mount was a manmade hill with a Greek style building atop it. People were scurrying down the four staircases like rats abandoning a sinking ship and I felt a pang of sorrow for what was once the premier super team in the world. The guard is changing and they haven’t figured it out yet.

  We set down at the flat end of prefabricated plateau. I want to give Larry a chance to get his feet under him before we mosey on over.

  “Nervous?” I ask.

  “Maybe, a little,” Larry confesses.

  “Me, too,” I say. “Let me do the talking and remember this; you’ve handed all of them their asses at some point in time. If for some reason, things go all stupid, you and I will take the opportunity to do it again, with interest. Push comes to shove, we shove real hard.”

  I know Stacy is listening on this channel and the warning is partly for her as well. Larry straightens up and nods with new-found resolve. Maybe I do have a future as a motivational speaker.

  We walk side by side toward the group. Hera and Gravmatar detach to meet us twenty feet away from the others. Her powers generate strong forcefields and his super dense gravity warping beams and near invulnerability made for a good opening shot.

  The attractive sandy-brown haired leader of the Olympians spoke first. “Welcome to Mount Olympus. I understand you are called Red and you are the Megasuit. How is WhirlWendy?”

  “Thank you for the reception,” I reply through my external speakers. “A short time ago, one of your subordinate super teams attempted to bring our leader into custody based on the flimsiest of excuses, resulting in a fight in the middle of a highly populated area. We decided to come speak with you to ensure that something like that does not occur again, and to issue a warning that if it does, there will be consequences. Our leader has recovered from the attack and is monitoring this conversation. If she makes an appearance, it will not be for a social call.”

  Hera nods. “We had nothing to do with that confrontation. It was something the government was pushing and the West Coast team was all too eager to pursue. They had a long history with Ultraweapon, and reacted poorly to his demise.”

  “We acted with restraint to minimize the potential for civilian casualties. They were the ones who initiated a fight in the middle of a major city.”

  The stocky, yellow and magenta Rigellian slapped all four of his seven-fingered hands together, causing twin pulses of energies to engulf them and says, “This posturing bores me. We already know who that one is. All that remains is to determine if the other is an alien.”

  The people of Columbia elected Gravmatar their President for Life after he pretty much single handedly, or is that four handedly as it were, wiped out all the local rebels. According to Gravmatar, Rigellians have an average life-span of three hundred and twenty-five years, so they’ll have an opportunity to enjoy their decision for some time to come. They didn’t appoint him for his patience.

  The engineer in me wondered whether his gravity warping abilities could stop my railgun.

  Maybe I obsess about the railgun too much? Nah.

  “Gravmatar! Please!” Hera exclaims. “My apologies, Mr. Hitt.”

  Some of my instruments pick up a surge around Larry as he says, “Everyone seems to think they know me. Considering I barely know who I am, perhaps you should be less anxious to jump to conclusions.”

  “He has a point,” I interject. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to take
Larry’s disappearance from his prison and mental facility and the arrival of Big Red on the scene and come up with something. The Brits, who bet on virtually everything, had stopped taking wagers on his identity. “If he is who you think he is, then you might be a bit more concerned about pissing him off. That’s just my opinion, but I’m not the one who will get their ass kicked six ways from Sunday, so by all means keep irritating him.”

  “No one wants a fight, today!” Hera shouts. “We’re simply having a discussion.”

  “The Rigellian culture is based around ritual combat,” I say, before deciding to throw her a bone. “If it helps progress this discussion we are supposed to be having, I am not an alien.”

  “Then why did you claim to be?”

  “I implied it because it stopped a fight in downtown Phoenix, with dozens of innocent people around. I acted under the assumption that this is what the good guys are supposed to do, prevent civilian casualties and property damage where possible. Is it not one of your bylaws, or do your own rules mean so little to you, Hera? If it sounds repetitive then perhaps, you idiot humans should try comprehension and not just listening!”

  Back in our headquarters, Wendy gives me a sideways glance. I shrug.

  “You said humans,” Hera comments. “Like you’re not one of us.”

  “Bring over Aphrodite. I will lower my shields and allow her to scan me.”

  Hera motions for Stacy to come over in her gold and silver armor. The outer shell now has a centurion motif, no doubt approved by their Public Relations overlords. Her faceplate splits down the middle and the seam spreads apart to reveal the Love Goddess.

  “I’m not receiving anything,” Stacy says and I can see the fake confusion on her face. “Even Rigellians give off some kind of emotional response. It’s almost like he is ...”

  “A machine,” I offer and pop the seal on my helmet.

  “Andydroid?” Hera gasps.

  “Indeed,” I say using Andy’s head to transmit my voice. “I’m the original. The one turned to stone.”

  “Wait a second!” Athena jumps in. “Andydroid is programmed not to kill. If that’s the case how do you explain killing Ultraweapon?”