“Put these on.”
“Huh?” I flinched as a pair of sweats and a t-shirt hit me in the face. I’d been so distracted by the futuristic technology that I failed to notice its purpose. Part of the wall slid silently away, revealing a door so secret, there hadn’t even been a noticeable seam in the wall to give away its existence.
Inside was a pristine room with white walls and a bamboo floor scattered with mats. If I thought Mary Sue’s office was huge, it had nothing on this secret dojo. Weapons of every type hung like trophies along one wall. Another seemed to be made entirely of rice paper which diffused the light, illuminating the entire room brilliantly and leaving nowhere for a shadow to hide.
Of course, this also meant there wasn’t anywhere for me to hide since there didn’t seem to be any door leading off to a private dressing area and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go back into the office and take my jeans off in front of all of Maxima City. If Take noticed my dilemma, she didn’t say anything. She just slipped out of her shoes and padded barefoot across the room to the weapons, studying each one in turn with an exaggerated deliberateness.
I took this as the only moment of privacy I was going to get and stripped out of my jeans as fast as I could. Not an easy task when I first had to unlace my boots, but somehow I managed to shed my street clothes and slip into the sweats—which were a little loose, but otherwise really comfy—before Take was finished inspecting her trophies.
“Okay, you ready?” she asked, turning to give me a quick glance before grabbing what I could only describe as a highly decorative sledgehammer off the wall. I was about to ask what exactly I was supposed to be ready for, but as she started running towards me, hammer raised over her head, that wasn’t really necessary. In fact, the eardrum-rupturing war whoop was just overkill.
I didn’t even think. I didn’t have time. I iced the floor and rolled to the side, watching with mixed feelings of horror and amusement as my boss went sliding out of control. On one hand, she attacked me, but on the other, I just attacked my boss and I really needed my paycheck. Both paychecks for that matter.
Luckily for my continued existence, I worked for a mostly indestructible immortal. Hostile Takeover had what could only be described as the most enviable talent of all: all of them. Literally, any attack used against her was absorbed and learned automatically.
Instead of crashing through the wall, she executed a graceful pirouette into a hammer-assisted summersault that even the Russian judges would’ve had trouble finding fault with, and landed in front of me.
“Nice block,” she admitted with an impressed smile. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”
With only that warning, she launched herself at me again and I do mean launched. Leaping into the air, her body began to twist and stretch, morphing until she was the spitting image of Liberty Gang hotshot, Mr. Unbelievable.
“How the hell did you…” I began, but trailed off, half because I remembered that Glamora’s power was to mimic anyone’s appearance, and half because I was a split second away from taking a Mr. Unbelievable sized boot to the head. I dodged the boot, barely, but used the fumble to my advantage, allowing my core temperature to drop enough to shatter the bright red patent leather, leaving a cold, bare, and unbelievably dainty foot to land a mostly harmless kick to my head.
The abuse continued for nearly a full hour. Take transformed into every last Action Figure I’ve ever encountered and a few I’d yet to meet in the streets. I’d like to say I held my own, but let’s just say the pristine white room now had enough stark red accents that I had to question how I was still upright. She was testing me, for sure, but it would have been nice if she’d maybe revealed why. Also, a sports bra would have been a nice gesture. The girls really weren’t thrilled with all this running and jumping.
Finally, when I didn’t think I could take any more abuse, Take decided to remind me that there was a reason we’re called the bad guys. Instead of easing up on me, she transformed into the one ‘Fig I had never faced, but spent my entire life planning to annihilate in an epic battle to the bitter end. Except, I’d always assumed Lane would be there to help, seeing as he has just as much invested in seeing the demise of Magnificent Man as I did.
Fortunately, the loss of blood that was making it difficult to think straight also dulled my reflexes. By the time my body had caught up with my mind’s kill command, I remembered the vision in front of me was actually my boss and not the so-called hero who was responsible for the tragedy my family endured. Still, as she push one of Magnificent’s signature plasma blasts at me, I couldn’t help but add a little flair to my parry. Regulating my temperature, I cooled the plasma blast slowly, forming a thick, gooey rope that I used to bind his arms just before using the icy ground to yank him off his feet.
“Hello,” I said, forming a blade of ice with my right hand. “You know me as Frostbyte, but for today, my name is Justice. You have brought injury to my parents. Prepare for death!”
For added effect, I brought the blade down, flash thawing it into nothing more than harmless water vapor before it actually reached flesh.
Magnificent Man vanished and I jumped up as Hostile Takeover emerged as herself once again. I didn’t want to be within striking distance if she decided the blade had been a bit much. But all she did was dust herself off and throw me a little side-eye.
“You seriously ripped your vengeance speech off from The Princess Bride?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” I said with a shrug. “Besides, I changed it enough to avoid copyright issues.”
She just shook her head and tossed a towel at me.
“Clean up. You’re my dinner guest at Winfield Estate tonight.”
I was about to ask where the hell I was supposed to clean up, but before I could say anything, she slid aside yet another seemingly seamless panel, revealing a changing room—which would have been useful earlier—and a private bath with the same sparkling white and bamboo decor as the dojo. I made to grab my boots and clothes, but Take shook her head.
“Just leave your dirty clothes and I’ll have the staff return them to you later. I’ve left you something more suitable in the dressing room.”
There was something creepy about the fact that I was basically being told not only what my plans were for the evening, but how to dress for them as well. But since my curiosity had the better of me, I simply nodded and headed for the shower. I wasn’t keen on the overly vanilla shampoo and body wash I found supplied for me, but given the deep pink tones of my blood mixing with the lather, I figured smelling like a cupcake was probably preferable to a slaughterhouse.
Turns out proper dinner attire wasn’t so bad. The loose, breathable, black jersey knit dress was elegant, yet surprisingly comfortable and paired with simple, yet obviously pricy black sandals. Flats, thankfully, but I needn’t have worried. Take was all about practical footwear. Even as Mary Sue, I can’t recall ever seeing her in heels. Of course, that likely had more to do with her being a giant than anything else.
I found her waiting for me in the dojo—which had magically been restored to its pristine condition—wearing a dress that was similar to mine, but managed to somehow be just a little fancier despite having no additional adornments. I chalked it up to just one of the perks of being the big boss. I followed as she went back through her office, moved a different painting, and revealed yet another secret room, this one a simple hallway with two doors and an elevator bay.
We got on the elevator and Take punched an unmarked button. Actually, all five buttons were devoid of description and lined up in a horizontal row, so there was no way of knowing where we were headed. Clever, certainly, but unnerving for the uninitiated likes of me.
When the elevator doors opened, revealing nothing more than a secret, underground parking garage, I let out the breath I was holding, and immediately took it in again in a sharp gasp of awe. Take, it seemed, had a taste for Detroit steel. Muscle cars in every shade, style, make and model sat in neat rows that see
med to go on forever. It was like we time traveled to a car show in the seventies, but without the guys in leisure suits or the girls in bikinis.
“Eenie meenie, miney moe. Catch a hero by the toe,” Take sang as she swung her pointed finger up in a dramatic arc around the room. “If he hollers, kill him slow. Eenie meenie miney moe!”
A little goofy, a little psycho, but I guess everyone has their own way of blowing off steam. Besides, I definitely wasn’t going to complain about getting a chance to ride in a cherry red 1968 Corvette, though to be perfectly honest, I would have rather been driving the thing. Especially once we hit the street and Take decided to give me a display of her racing skills.
Thirty minutes and several near death experiences later, we arrived at Winfield Estate. Take pulled the ‘Vette into one of those circular driveways that I thought only existed in holiday themed luxury car commercials and handed the keys to a driver wearing a freaking valet uniform. It was like something straight out of a movie. A dude in a tuxedo opened the front door, letting us into a foyer that was bigger than my own apartment. Not surprising, really, since the mansion was bigger than an entire city block, let alone my little apartment building.
The whole situation was weird and surreal, and again, I couldn’t help feeling a little creeped out by the significant power imbalance. All I could think of, while I followed Take down an endless hallway full of priceless—and mostly stolen—art, was how much I was reminded of one of those romance novels that were all the rage for a while. You know, the ones where the poor little average girl catches the attention of the billionaire, who then gives her nice clothes and takes her to their palatial estate for drinks and dinner right before revealing that they’ve got an agenda.
Which, in a way, I guess was exactly what was going down. Except instead of some hot guy with dubious preferences, the billionaire was my supervillain boss. Well that, and I already knew there would be some sort of agenda revealed because that’s kind of what supervillains do when they wine and dine you. Somehow though, this only made things worse and by worse I mean awkward and nerve-wracking.
I couldn’t really complain too much while being served filet mignon prepared by an actual chef instead of the half eaten cold cheeseburger I had waiting for me in my fridge. Not to mention the wine, served by a sommelier who proceeded to spend five minutes telling me about the various hints and aromas I would experience. I can’t say that it made me a wine snob, but the private reserve stuff that came from Winfield Wineries was a hell of a lot smoother than the boxed stuff I snuck from my parents as a kid.
Finally, after a ridiculously rich dessert that made me more than a little envious of Take’s power to eat anything and not gain weight, she got around to the reason I was being wined and dined.
“So, I heard the ‘Figs sent an operative to take you out before last weekend’s job.”
“They sent Wildcard,” I explained with a shrug. “I wouldn’t exactly call that a smart move.”
“No, probably not, but it certainly speaks volumes, doesn’t it?” I had no idea what she was getting at, so I just raised my eyebrows. “The LG sees Frostbyte as enough of a threat to specifically target. You’ve got their attention, which made the Coalition sit up and take notice as well. They want to set up a meeting.”
I held my breath, not daring to speak. A meeting with the Coalition of Evil could only mean one of two things. One being very awesome, the other being very… death.
“Please tell me this isn’t a cruel joke,” I said at last. Take had never struck me as the type for petty pranks, but after last weekend’s art debacle, my heart plummeted at the possibility that this was nothing but an elaborate set up.
“Wow, paranoid much?”
“We’re Mals.”
“Good point,” she said with a smirk and an infuriating eyebrow waggle. “But, seriously, ‘Byte, we’ve had our eye on you for a while. The Coalition needs fresh blood.”
As much as I wanted to be reassured, Take’s choice of wording didn’t do a lot to put my mind at ease. Sure, none of the current members were witches, vampires, necromancers, or any other paranormal type talents that required blood sacrifices, but with a cannibal and an entity from another realm, I figured it best to keep myself prepared for any eventuality.
My thoughts must have been transparent because after a moment, Take couldn’t hold back any longer, letting out a bellowing laugh at my expense.
“Relax, kid,” she wheezed through fits of giggles. “You’re getting a shot at the big time.”
“I… uh… That’s…wow…” my mouth prattled while my brain struggled to form a proper reaction to Take’s unceremonious announcement. I was well aware of the irony that for someone with an ice talent, I had zero ability to keep my cool under pressure, but this was no small time deal she just dropped in my lap. “Thank you,” I managed to croak out at last. I probably looked like a complete idiot with my jaw dragging on the ground, but none of that mattered.
My dreams were finally coming true.
Chapter 6
My interview with the Coalition was set for midnight on Tuesday of the following week. Tuesdays were usually slow crime days, so that part made sense, but the meeting at midnight? That had to be some sort of silly intimidation factor. Silly, that is, because they didn’t need to do anything else to intimidate me other than be the Coalition of Evil. Really, it doesn’t get much more intimidating than that. Regardless, I would have preferred a meeting that allowed me to get to sleep at a reasonable hour on a work night.
After my meeting with Take, I went home, poured myself a congratulatory drink, and spent the rest of the evening fantasizing about all the various scenarios in which I might encounter and ultimately crush Magnificent Man. She’d given me the entire weekend off to prepare, which was the reason she hadn’t included me in the weekly planning session. Well, that and she probably got a kick out of knowing she had me unhinged. Regardless, I was grateful for the break because I was nervous.
But I was also so excited.
Seriously, I would not have been surprised to find out I’d developed a weightless talent. I genuinely felt like I was floating when I thought about what an amazing opportunity I was being given. I still couldn’t believe it. All my life… well, all my life after I swore my allegiance to the Malevolents, I dreamed of one day becoming a supervillain.
Don’t get me wrong. I could do a lot worse than working for Hostile Takeover. She pays well, doesn’t abuse her power, and actually makes the time to get to know us as more than just her underlings. But there’s only so far one can go in the position of henchperson and given that Take had a strict ‘no sidekicks’ policy, I’d hit the glass ceiling when she made me her second in command.
As a supervillain, I’d be in control. I could choose my own team, plan my own heists, and best of all, I could finally get my revenge. As far as I knew, Magnificent Man had been without a sworn enemy for quite some time since Rock Tower decided to retire and open up a craft store. Admittedly, those were some pretty big shoes to fill—and not just because Rock Tower was a giant—but I was ready to try.
I just had to get through the interview first.
Come Monday morning, I was still high on shock. Not even the usual corporate quagmire was enough to take the wind from my sails, though I will admit I was slightly disappointed to discover Lane wasn’t coming into the office again. I’d restrained myself from texting him my good news over the weekend because I wanted to gloat in person, so when he didn’t show, I felt cheated.
But as Tuesday approached, the reality that I still had to make it through the interview process hit me. Instead of preparing, like Take told me to do, I’d spent the last three days in a perpetual daydream. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. By the time my shift ended on Tuesday evening, my nerves were so rattled that I didn’t even stop in at Lucky’s. I didn’t bother cooking anything because I knew my stomach was too knotted to eat. I couldn’t nap because my brain was going a million miles an hour. I wa
s beyond unprepared and out of time to panic.
Even worse, as I paced my meager apartment, I realized that I didn’t even know what I was supposed to wear.
All my life, I assumed it was just like the cartoons I’d watched as a kid. I envisioned the Coalition members sitting around a meeting table in full costume, discussing what nefarious plans they had for the Liberty Gang. In hindsight, that’s pretty impractical. Some of those costumes were elaborate and likely uncomfortable for prolonged periods of time. I wasn’t even sure Oddball could actually sit down in his getup.
Still, that didn’t solve my dilemma. Was I supposed to dress up? It was an interview, after all. But then, what if I was supposed to demonstrate my talents? I guess I was lucky that I could probably shoot ice darts and be fashionably kempt, but sparring in business attire was a whole different story. Did I have to wear my Frostbyte costume? It made sense, but if the other members weren’t in costume, I was going to feel really foolish.
In the end, I decided a black sleeveless top, loose fitting black pants, flats, and a stylish cassock inspired long coat would work for any occasion and let me maintain my cool. Seriously, there was just something about a long coat that just screamed “I’m a total badass.”
The address Take gave me was all the way across town, which meant I had to drive. Any badassery I might have been feeling fled the moment I pulled up to the front of a luxury condominium tower and had to hand the keys to my ten year old Fiesta over to a valet whose suit probably cost more than the car had brand new. I cursed myself for passing up the parking garage two blocks away because I didn’t want to spend the ten bucks.
Inside, I was greeted by a virtual army of underlings. Part of me felt bad for them. I too had to start at the very bottom of the talent hierarchy, so I knew how much it sucked to be a faceless lackey without so much as a snazzy nickname. It was a required rite of passage and before you get your hackles up, I’ll have you know that it’s not just the Malevolents. The Action Figures have the same type of entry level internships. In fact, theirs is worse. My service as one of Take’s nameless “shareholders” was actually part of a scholarship program. From what I’d heard, the Liberty Gang requires all of their candidates to spend two years as an unpaid intern. Apparently, working for the side of justice is supposed to be its own honor.
A Shot at the Big Time Page 5
