Didn’t work. My voice echoing around the empty base sounded plenty creepy by itself.
Only one thing to do. I pulled free a folded card sticking out from under the new helmet and read it.
Our super powers don’t always think about what we need. Sometimes we have to cover for each other.
Cybermancer.
Aw. Impressively sleek cursive writing, too. Thick black ink. Did he do this with one of those old pointy pens? The guy sure knew how to make a professional contact.
Still an uncomfortable reminder that if I could break into other people’s bases, they could break into mine.
No time to worry about that now! I hurriedly changed, not into this new costume, but my old white jumpsuit. Then I buckled on the new helmet over top, saving me the time of figuring out how to hide my identity on the road.
With that, I could go out to the street and activate my long-unused light cycle.
Criminy. I’d forgotten how fast this thing was, and how easily it drove itself. With a few nudges, I was on the 101 freeway, speeding down towards Downtown. After witnessing Lucyfar’s skilled-but-psychotic driving, I was intensely aware of how it only took gentle pressure to switch lanes and pass cars ahead of me. The bike knew to ignore any instruction that would cause me to crash.
Soon enough, I was off the freeway, speeding up the street towards Chinatown’s gates. Since this was Saturday, roadblocks stood across the lanes, with an exaggeratedly Chinese old man who I am positive is a robot stationed to warn people off.
Would it…?
Lifting the handles, I bounced on the light cycle’s seat.
The cycle jumped, soaring above the roadblocks.
“AH HA HA HA HA HA!” I cackled, swerving and skidding to a halt beyond.
The robot completely ignored me.
The few people on the street also ignored me. Why? Because they were supervillains, and had heard it all before. Chinatown was unexpectedly busy for it being before dark on a weekend. I got out off the street visible from outside, and headed towards the white central mall.
Somebody had told me Chinatown used to be a lot more densely packed before Spider arrived and paid to pretty it up. Who knew if that was true? Now the mall dominated everything, with little clumps of villains in costumes of varying levels of ridiculous standing around outside chatting. A couple even waved at me.
No time for that. All business. I had to see Spider.
Inside the mall, two robots held an argument with lots of gesticulation of multiple metal arms. A young woman in a tiny dress who I’d once heard named as Little Witch tried to calm them down.
Nope. All business Penny had no time for such folderol.
I almost got distracted when I spotted Lucyfar. Dressed in a black bodysuit that gleamed and rippled like ink, she snuck up behind a high school girl who watched the argument with a concerned expression. Nnnnoooo, not that young, just on the short side, and skinny like Ray, wiry rather than bony. The supervillainess wore a costume in the classic ‘tight spandex’ style, so you could really appreciate how skinny she was. It covered from neck to knees to elbows, mostly in thick blue and pink stripes, but with a big white center panel. What the blobby symbol on her chest was meant to convey I couldn’t tell you, but it didn’t matter. The girl’s hair, a huge mass of ginger, curly fluff, would be all anyone ever needed to recognize her.
Lucyfar pounced on her victim, wrapping her arms tight around the skinny villainess. Luridly tight, snaked around the girl’s torso. Burying her face in the floofy hair, Lucyfar must have whispered something, because the girl’s mouth opened. Judging from the flapping and the blush, all that actually came out was a stammer. Satisfied with that response, Lucyfar picked the girl up, tucked under her arm like the classic sack of potatoes, and walked off.
We were all supervillains here. Her victim writhed like a fish, compressing bonelessly in Lucy’s grip. Scrawny arms lashed out to grab the floor, sticking to it like glue and getting longer by the second. None of this did any good. Lucyfar carried away her prize as if she couldn’t resist at all, and the girl’s hands snapped free after her arms stretched a couple of body lengths.
Ooooookay. Well. I’d really thought Lucyfar was into guys, and actually did have a romantic thing for Gabriel.
Counterpoint: Why was I taking literally anything Lucyfar ever did at face value?
New assessment of the situation: Lucyfar planned to sweet talk that villainess, then fire her out of a cannon. Because Lucyfar.
Also, I was wasting time I might not have much of.
Criminy. I loved Chinatown so much. I would have to give up this craziness when I cleared my name. So it goes for us mature young adults.
A modest looking door I’d seen before led down to the parking level. Ducking through it, I charged down shadowy cement steps and through another door into the garage.
This door opened up right near the center of the garage, right in front of the tangled white web that made up Spider’s office. The huge, glossy black widow hung from those strands as I’d expected. After all, where was she going to go?
What did not occur to me was that Spider might have company. A hulking, furry man like a wolf stuffed into a suit stood facing the wall, arms folded, back-to-back with a slender blonde whose ornate chain and plate mail made gender unidentifiable. The blonde was clearly taking the ‘having to look at a two thousand pound spider’ duty, which a lot of people found uncomfortable.
The wolf looked at me. It was not a pleasant expression. I had intruded on private business.
Just to confirm, a supervillainess stepped out from behind one of the cement pillars that supported Spider’s web and walked right up to me. Right up to me, looming over me with nose touching my gas mask. Eyes with slowly spinning red and orange spiral irises looked into mine, bug-eyed wide.
“You are intruding on private business,” said She Who Wots.
Spider waved a foreleg. “Bad Penny is a valued colleague, and has business that I’m sure seems critically urgent to her. My other clients will appreciate a moment to consider their deal, I’m sure.”
Neither of the supervillains argued, although the wolf kept staring at me like I’d look good on a meat hook.
She Who Wots stepped out of the way. I was struck again by how if Juno looked like I might in ten years, She Who Wots was a prophecy of what I would definitely look like in five. Down to the freckles and glasses, her face uncommonly resembled the one I saw in the mirror in the morning. She was thin, with long, braided pigtails of that bland brown color called ‘agouti.’
I probably wouldn’t have those weird eyes, or obsessively wear a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. At least it was clean this time.
Okay. Deep breath. Time to demand answers.
Glaring at Spider, I… realized I didn’t know the questions I wanted answers to.
Spider got me started, as bland and businesslike about it as ever. “You are here about the girl called Remmy, correct? I understand she has a superhero sobriquet, but did not use it when she made her surprise visit to my special mining station.”
Right. The special mining station. The one on Ceres.
If the situation was too big for specific questions, I would go with a general. “Why?”
“You would have to ask Remmy that. She seemed very angry. So much so that I suspect that this goes beyond a superhero/supervillain feud and reflects private grievances. Or I would suspect that, if it were any of my business.”
That was both an excellent answer, and not the question I ought to have asked. Anger bubbling up now, I tried, “Why did you let her through?”
Anger didn’t affect Spider any more than surprise. Not that a spider has any expression I could read.. “Why wouldn’t I? It avoided conflict in a delicate location. While Remmy is here in Los Angeles, I can study her vehicle. I like to make new contacts, and while the heroine in question is morally inflexible now, a friendly approach may plant the seed of future opportunities.”
“But she�
��s going to reveal my secret identity!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the mostly empty garage.
The claws on her front legs plucked at a cable of silk. “Should that happen, the community will take the usual steps. Until then, this is a private conflict, and I do not have a part in it. Indeed, while I would be willing to remove the threat, you would find the price unacceptable. If I tried to persuade you, that would feel like blackmail.”
I tightened my fists. “Fine. Tell me where I can find her, at least. I can’t go on waiting for her to jump out at me at any moment.”
A hint of sharpness finally crept into Spider’s voice. “Where Remmy stays and what she does when she is not hunting you is getting personal. I will not reveal that information at any price.”
My fists shook, and I growled. I felt trapped, because… she was right. I couldn’t dispute anything she’d said, including that this was none of her business. I had been out of line to think that she had any duty to stop Remmy. These were the rules as established. They had saved me, and now they trapped me.
They also trapped Remmy. To add to my worries, if she did reveal my identity, Spider would have her killed. The friendly, playful environment upstairs depended on that ruthlessness.
The touch of reproach faded, replaced by an equally subtle concern. “As pressured as you may feel, I have confidence in your maturity and ability to work things out. I regret that circumstances make me the cause of unpleasantness for you, and have arranged an apology favor. By the time you figure out what it was, I believe you will consider it just compensation.”
Probably. Whereas if she just told me right now, I would refuse it. Spider built better metaphorical webs than literal ones.
She Who Wots took a step towards me. “This meeting is over.”
She meant that literally. Instead of the garage, I suddenly found myself back up the stairway, facing the door into the mall.
She was also right metaphorically, because there really wasn’t anything else to say. I was on my own with this. Time to change gears and think up a new plan, starting with figuring out my actual goal. If I even found Remmy, could I convince her to peacefully go back to Jupiter?
My pondering derailed as I stepped out into the mall to face another pair of swirling red-and-orange eyes. These were much closer to my height, and belonged to Barbara Tinsley, High School Goth Fashion Icon Who Almost But Doesn’t Quite Know Too Much.
Hurried and awkward, Barbara asked, “I scried tension. How did Abigail handle it?”
Other than the eyes, Abigail ‘She Who Wots’ Tinsley and Barbara Tinsley did not look like sisters, and even their color-changing eyes rarely matched. Barbara was soft and hourglass, where her older sister echoed my slender frame. Barbara was also hauntingly pale, accentuated by purple lipstick and eye shadow. Her thick, pixie-cut hair streaked purple, black, blue, and red today, and her knee-length dress more ruffly and elaborate than ever, mixing black and purple in waves, with a couple of red ribbons and red laces on her corset as accents. There would be striped stockings and some kind of high heels down there, like there always were.
I held a private suspicion that the elaborate dressing up helped Barbara cope. Both sisters lived on the edge of darkness, hallucinating horrors that offered the power to make them real. The goth stuff helped Barbara indulge that pain without giving in. Abigail did not have that protection, and went mad, dragging the world with her.
At least, she used to. Today… “She seemed normal. For her. Crazy, but normal crazy, not bleeding eyes crazy. And honestly, only a little crazy even for normal people. Mostly just weird.”
Barbara let out a sigh, and how she did that in a corset I had no idea. A really tiny, tight corset. “She’s been doing so well. She’s almost happy. I don’t want her to lose all that progress.”
It was always weird to be reminded that I knew people whose problems made mine look puny. For example, how was Marcia? As mad as my parents would be if they found out I was a supervillain, Marcia’s must… I couldn’t imagine it. She’d broken her dad’s bones. Plural. Many of them. He’d be out of the hospital by now. Would he be too afraid to punish her? He was a dangerous man himself.
My expression must have turned bleak, because Barbara took hold of my shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Are you okay? I like the new mask, by the way.”
I blinked back to the present moment. “Oh, yeah, I’m… well, it’s complicated. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She tittered, a faint ‘hee hee hee’ sound. Her mouth wasn’t very big, and with painted lips, her smile radiated knowing amusement. “My sister is a supervillain, and I’m being raised by a robot. I’ve been here frequently. Now it’s every weekend. After the rampaging robot mess at the end of the semester, word got out that I can use my magic to heal. I got… kind of shanghaied into the community. I’m technically a supervillain, although I don’t intend to ever fight or commit crimes.”
For a moment, it seemed weird that one of my friends was already an official supervillain, but Barbara wasn’t my age. She was at least sixteen, probably seventeen by now. Sure, that was early, but well within the normal age range for sidekicks, right? And not too early for the full thing.
Keeping my voice low, I said, “Confidentially, I still don’t think anyone really accepts the Inscrutable Machine as full supervillains.”
She thought about that for a minute, her smile turning up on one side. The amusement didn’t go away, but it did mix with a hint of sympathy. “No, I guess not. I think they were in a hurry to snap me up before the hero side recruited me. Not that I will turn anyone away.” Barbara’s eyes lit up, and she added in a confidential whisper of her own, “Speaking of heroes, did you know Beaddown did some actual crime fighting? It wasn’t official or in costume, but she was in a gas station when a guy tried to rob it. The man was wearing a ring, and she made the ring spin until it hurt so much he had to drop his gun. Nobody ever knew it was her until she told her friends.”
I nodded, grinning. Color me impressed. “She’s serious, and not in the gloomy way. She’ll be more famous than me when we grow up, I bet. Uhh… but if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Now. I’m really sorry, and I’ll see you next time I’m here.”
While talking, I’d seen… it couldn’t be. And if it was, Barbara couldn’t know.
I hurried across the lobby towards the mad scientist vendors.
Tesla’s Conspiracy of Enemies. I’d seen correctly. On the table of a man I didn’t know sat a mass of gears that I’d seen before. It was the brain of a Jupiter colony automaton.
He was the most blandly normal supervillain I’d ever seen. Not as old as my folks―maybe thirtyish? He had hair that might be black or really dark brown, hazel eyes, skin that might be tanned or might be naturally dark, no identifiable ethnicity, a softness to his shape that few heroes or villains had but wasn’t actually rare in mad scientists… and so on. He wore a blue denim shirt and loose jeans, without even a pair of goggles visible anywhere.
“Where did you get this?” I pointed at the brain.
“It’s an honor to meet you too, Bad Penny. Everyone talks about you.” He even talked casual, relaxed and amused―no. That was his tone, but his stare radiated tension and guilt.
At her table, Red Eye said, “Detach your propellers, girl. This guy’s real. He goes by Air Conditioner Man.”
The Expert, standing stiffly among the tables as if he was in charge of all of us, said, “Red Eye is not joking with you. That is his villainous eponym, used publicly in battle.”
Still wary around the eyes, Air Conditioner Man smirked. “Yes. Twice. My skill at crime matched my skill at picking names. At least I was smart enough to realize that before I got thrown in jail. I do still drop by sometimes to sell off stock.”
On the other side of him, the Alchemist chuckled. “The age-old problem. No matter what we decide to do with our powers, we can’t stop creating. I have no choice but to sell, just to free up pantry space.” And to make more than a litt
le pocket change. The cheapest bottle on the Alchemist’s table was labeled a thousand dollars an ounce.
I didn’t really want to talk to the Alchemist. The older I got, the weirder it felt knowing that this was the guy whose chemicals turned my mother to villainy for three months. Mom didn’t hold a grudge, and in fact they seemed to be friends. He’d been someone who dropped by occasionally to spend time with my parents since I was a baby. All that was completely in-character for Mom, but I was afflicted with normal people emotions.
Fortunately, he was not central to this issue. I tapped the automaton brain. Carefully. Those tiny gears and levers could cut you. “You didn’t make this yourself. I know where you got it.” That he didn’t make it himself was obvious. Everything else on the table involved a hose or a fan.
Air Conditioner Man’s mouth tightened. Standing, he beckoned towards one of the mall shops, which close and empty every weekend. “Can we talk privately? Please? It’s urgent.”
I eyed the other mad scientists. “They’ll spy on us.”
As every single one of them adopted a different expression of innocence, Air Conditioner Man sighed. “I know, but at least we can make them work for it.”
My questions would be better put one on one anyway, so I followed him into a shadowed room of covered shelves. As soon as we were out of sight of our peers, I pounced. Verbally. “Where is she?”
His answer came immediate and emphatic. “Don’t even ask. She’s a scared little girl, and I am not going to betray her trust.”
Well… Tesla’s Backside. There was no way I could argue with that.
“You’re taking care of her?” I asked, more gently.
His mouth tightened. He bit his lower lip. Oh, criminy. He really did like Remmy. So did I. When he answered, his voice grew husky with concern. “I’m trying. When she goes out into public, people think she’s Bad Penny, at least.”
Note to Penny: Try to find out about that later. Right now, Remmy is more important. “She’s mad at me, but I’m not mad at her. I wanted her to be my friend. If we can’t be friends, I want to settle this so at least she doesn’t hate me so much she has to chase me to Earth.”
Please Don't Tell My Parents I Have A Nemesis Page 11
