“Hey! There you are… phew! What’s that smell?”
An overwhelming yet familiar stench emanated off Lane in waves, reminding me simultaneously of baseball games and kitschy chain restaurants, only more so.
Lane lifted his sleeve to his nose and took a deep sniff. “Peanuts. They had me hauling the fresh roasted peanuts today because it turns out, I’m one of the only guys in the warehouse without an allergy.”
“More like you were the newb and got roped into doing the smelly job no one else wanted. So this is where you’ve been for the last week? Playing warehouse grunt?”
“I’ve only been on peanut duty for the last two days. But before that I was hauling fish, so believe me, this ain’t so bad.”
I would have laughed, but it would have meant extra breathing and I was trying to do as little of that as possible with Lane around. “I sure hope whatever it is you and Take are working on is worth it.”
Lane’s expression changed ever so briefly from smug to worried and back to smug.
“Yeah, I’m getting a lot of… interesting intel.” Another ghost of a frown reared up, but it was quickly replaced with a grin. “You should see these stores though. Fancy.”
“Sounds lovely,” I said dismissively, but not too dismissively. Hey, I had news of my own and I didn’t need to spend the next fifteen minutes listening to Lane tell me about a grocery store because believe me, he would.
“I’m guessing you haven’t heard the biggest gossip of the week yet, have you, brother dear.”
“Nah, I’ve been laying low as not to rouse suspicion. What’s going on around here?”
“You are looking at the newest member of the Coalition of Evil,” I said, putting my hands on my hips and holding my head high in a mockery of Magnificent Man’s signature pose.
“Funny. What’s the real news?”
“Ugh!” I smacked his arm and cursed the fact that Lane didn’t feel pain. “That is the real news, jerkwad!”
“No kidding.” Lane’s surprised expression was not exactly the reaction I was looking for, but given that he was my brother, which means his life’s work is to antagonize me, it wasn’t all together unexpected either. “Congrats, sis,” he said at last. “Really, I’m happy for you.”
“Don’t get too excited now.”
“Nah, this is good.” He gave me a pat on the back. “I’m glad you got this. After all, you ain’t getting any younger.”
“What the… what?” I took a step back and got ready to fight. I didn’t care if we were in the middle of a busy sidewalk with hundreds of witnesses. But Lane just held his hands up in defense.
“Hey, I didn’t mean nothing by it. I’m just saying, you’re going to be thirty soon…”
“I’m going to be thirty in three years, Lane, same as you.”
“Yeah, but I already got my goals and whatnot planned out.”
“You trying to tell me you aspired to smell like the dumpster in a peanut factory?”
“All part of the plan,” he said with an air of distraction. “I gotta get going. Boss wants me to make a report, but seriously, sis. I’m happy for ya.”
I stood perplexed for a moment, watching as he crossed the lobby and disappeared around the corner. Lane had just as much invested in me becoming a Coalition member as I did, so his lack of reaction to the news didn’t just hurt, it was also suspicious. Something was up and I had every intention of finding out what it was, but at that moment, I had bigger issues. Namely, happy hour.
Chapter 10
After all the commotion on Wednesday, I assumed I would soon be hearing something, anything, but no. Thursday passed without incident and my panic started to rise as I wondered what happened. Maybe I was too harsh on the brand guys. Maybe costume design took too long. Maybe there was some secret communication or maybe I was expected to be proactive and decide what I was going to do. Maybe they decided I wasn’t cut out to be a Coalition member.
Maybe I was really good at panicking and over thinking.
It wasn’t until Friday, as I was getting up to leave for lunch, that I had any inkling that there was a plan at all. Again, I was completely startled to find myself face to face with Mary Sue Winfield. Even more so since this time, she came to seek me out down in the IT department. From the way she was looking around and wrinkling her nose, I had a feeling she had never been down to the bowels of her own building before.
“Join me for lunch?” she asked, giving me a conspiratorial wink.
“Uh, sure.”
If she was trying to be inconspicuous, she was going about it all wrong. Every single pair of eyes in the department were on us as we left and I knew I was going to come back from lunch a whole lot more popular than when I left.
“There’s a decent salad place up on the left,” she informed me before strutting off at a pace that meant I would practically have to jog to keep up. Which of course also meant that by the time I caught up, I was sweaty and gross, not to mention irritated that I was stuck eating a salad for lunch when I had already set my mind on barbecue. I tried to discreetly blot my face with a napkin while Mary Sue raved over the kale selection. Yes, selection. I wasn’t even aware there was any other type of kale besides gross.
Finally, after placing our orders—it took me a while to find something kale-free—and finding a quiet, semi-private table near the window, Mary Sue disappeared and Hostile Takeover, um… took over.
“I talked to my brand managers yesterday. We’ve decided we’re going to give you a soft launch this weekend.”
Soft launch. I chewed my lettuce and sprouts and tried not to outwardly emote my feelings on the use of such a blatantly corporate buzzword. Or for that matter, the fact that the brand managers had more to do with planning my debut as a Coalition member than I did.
“We’ve got a couple of different jobs planned over the next three nights,” she went on. “I know we haven’t been keeping you in the loop and I apologize for that. It’s just that we weren’t sure exactly where we wanted to have you start. It wasn’t until this morning that we came up with the plan to hold off on the big debut. Instead, we’re hoping to get your face out there, figure out what works and what doesn’t before your official introduction.”
In other words, I may have officially earned a place on the Coalition, but I was still in beta testing mode. That, at least, was a concept a tech nerd understood. Honestly though, I couldn’t even get mad. It was a solid plan that made a lot more sense than just throwing me out there and hoping a ‘Fig would notice my crime. By showing up as a foil during a rival fight, we were not only sending the message that the Coalition acknowledges me, but I was going to get to go toe to toe with Mr. Unbelievable, The Matriarch, and Take’s own rival, Nocturno. Magnificent Man was going to have to sit up and take notice of me.
“We’ll just need to see what we can do to jazz up your costume.”
Dammit.
“Uh… about that,” I began, trying to figure out a way to delicately tell my boss that her costume designer was the absolute worst. “Klaus—”
“Yeah, I saw,” she interrupted with a grimace. “I’m really sorry. He came highly recommended.”
“By who, Oddball?”
The quip was out of my mouth before my brain remembered who I was talking to, but to my relief, Take found the comment amusing enough to give a small chuckle, which lightened my mood considerably. If nothing else, at least I wasn’t going to have to make my debut looking like a refugee from the Ice Capades.
“I’ve got a few ideas…” I began, but she ignored me and whipped out her phone.
“I was trying to give you the freedom to you know, have something different, but I’ll call in my designer. She really is the best and she already has your measurements. I’m willing to bet she can come up with something a bit more suitable on short notice.”
“Thanks,” I said, holding back the growl of frustration that threatened to escape. Saying no to Klaus was one thing, but Take didn’t take kindly to peop
le arguing with her. All I could do was hope that this designer understood that most of us don’t have Take’s gravity defying anatomy.
“So, have you given any thought to your brand?”
The forkful of lettuce hovered halfway to my mouth, like some sort of awkward shield behind which I was trying to hide.
“Uh… I haven’t really had a lot of time…” I stammered. I’d been hoping to put this off until after I could prove to everyone that I was a villain with a specific agenda. I didn’t need a brand.
“Really, it’s not that difficult. Just a matter of slapping your name on a product line. Well, there’s a little more to it than that. We want the right product line, not just any old thing.” She eyed me for a moment, which made me nervous. While I was actually in compliance with the Winfield Enterprises dress code for once, the stark difference between my business casual look and hers made me squirm under the scrutiny. “What about a line of underwear?”
“Excuse me?”
By some miracle of divine intervention, I managed to swallow the mouthful of water I’d just taken instead of spewing it all over my boss and her aforementioned expensive business wear.
“It’s brilliant! We can coordinate the colors to match your costume and everything.”
Somehow I didn’t think she was talking about a line of novelty skivvies like the Lady Freedom and Magnificent Man themed Thunderwear that Lane and I had as kids.
“I… I’m sure the uh… consultants will have some ideas,” I managed to squeak out. “So uh, anything I need to know for this weekend? Any etiquette rules to crashing a rival party?”
Obviously, my questions were diversionary, but I was genuinely curious. The last thing I needed was to discover that I’d committed some massive faux pas because I showed up at the wrong time or didn’t wait for the proper acknowledgment that it was okay to join the fight.
Damned good thing I asked, because apparently, there were many unspoken rules and each Coalition member had their own way of running the show. As soon as I got back to my desk, I wrote down everything I’d learned and hoped that I hadn’t forgotten any seemingly minor points that would be catastrophic.
By some miracle, five o’clock did not find me stuck in the middle of solving a computer crisis or crawling around the bowels of the building. I took this as a sign and shut down my station. While I was gathering all of my scattered personal items into my purse, a courier dropped a small package on my desk and asked me to sign. I was about to tell him he had the wrong person when I noted the label did indeed have my name.
I stuffed the incredibly light padded envelope into my bag and cringed when I noted the logo depicting a pair of scissors and a needle and thread. I tried to convince myself that maybe it was simply a mask or a headpiece, but I wasn’t that gullible or clueless. A couple of coworkers lingered nearby, hoping for a chance to spring on me and ask about my mysterious lunch meeting, but I pointedly avoided their eyes and practically sprinted from the building.
If ever there was a night where I really needed a stiff drink, this was it, but instead of stopping off at Lucky’s, I went straight home. I wasn’t going to risk the possibility of getting caught up in some drama or worse, being sidelined by a certain ‘Fig who still held most of my underwear hostage. Instead, I forced myself to eat a decent dinner, though as soon as I opened the itty bitty package, I wondered if eating had been such a good idea.
It was both as bad as I expected and yet still better than Klaus’s alternative. For the most part, it looked exactly like my current suit, except instead of a full body leotard, I now had the swimsuit styled bottom favored by Take and both of the Liberty Gang’s female members. I got to keep my delightfully nerdy emblem, but it was a small victory seeing as it was moved to an armband to make room for the utterly nonsensical cleavage window. Nonsensical not just in the impracticality of leaving an open and unprotected window of opportunity over a pretty vital organ, but also in that I didn’t exactly have a whole lot of cleavage to display.
Admittedly, it wasn’t all bad. The new outfit had rigid edges, built in support, and a number of other advancements that ensured I was bounce-proof and wedgie-proof. Surprising, since it was the same designer who had made the leotard that always rode up my butt. Perhaps comfort was a perk only afforded to the A-listers.
Of course, I still had no pockets, but I hadn’t really expected miracles. At least my overtaxed utility belt still matched. I clasped it around my waist and did a final check to ensure there would be no chance of wardrobe malfunctions before setting off for the zoo. Not a venue I would have picked for a high profile talent fight, but then, I wasn’t Oddball.
Chapter 11
Midnight found me perched on top of the monkey house, wondering if I was indeed watching a fight between rival talents or an absurdist play. Oddball didn’t actually seem to have an agenda, which was pretty much par for the course with that guy, but Mr. Unbelievable looked equally as confused as he skittishly tried to wrangle a flock of geese while simultaneously trying to stop his round rival from getting to the reptile pavilion to release the snakes. I wasn’t even sure the geese had come from the zoo.
Finally, about a half hour after the scheduled time, Oddball gave the signal for me to join the fight. I think. He might have just accidentally flashed the signal in the middle of his ranting and raving, but I was getting bored enough to risk it and besides, my legs were starting to cramp from perching too long.
Mr. Unbelievable actually seemed relieved to see me. Of course, that might have had to do with the fact that I was there to allow Oddball a clean getaway. Something that he didn’t seem too keen on trying to prevent. Our fight—if you can even call the halfhearted effort a fight—was brief and extremely anticlimactic, though he was quite relieved when I offered to handle the geese.
“Tell Magnificent Man that Frostbyte sends her regards.”
Somehow, it didn’t have the ominous impact I’d been hoping for.
“Oh, yeah… sure,” said a crestfallen Mr. Unbelievable. “So you’re not…”
“Sorry,” I said with genuine sympathy. I really couldn’t blame the guy for getting his hopes up for a new rival. After all, Lady Freedom had wanted to ditch Oddball so bad that she agreed to take on Jet Set, knowing full well the little creep was just hoping to touch her boobs. But to be fair, if Mr. Unbelievable really wanted to impress me enough to become his new rival, chivalrously telling me he refused to fight women was the very wrong way to go about this.
He let out a shrill whistle and a moment later, a white horse that seemed to almost glow in the moonlight came trotting over to his side. As always, a wind that affected no one else tossed the golden manes of both horse and man, who took an unnecessary moment to pose, smile, and wink before galloping into the night.
“Took ya long enough.”
Manifestation appeared at my side just as the last echoing clop faded away.
“Oddball gonna Oddball,” I said with a shrug.
“True enough.” Manifestation mirrored my shrug with one of agreement. “But we gotta hurry. I’m not sure how long Cannibal’s gonna hold his own against Mamma.”
“Crap, let’s go,” I said, holding out my hand. Dr. Cannibal might have been creepy and he usually had an impressive arsenal of inventions, concoctions and other manufactured tricks up his sleeve, but he wasn’t exactly a big guy. Actually, he wasn’t a whole lot taller than five feet. The Matriarch, on the other hand, was some sort of god-like being who stood over ten feet tall.
I closed my eyes as soon as I felt Manifestation take my hand. I’d only ever traveled via dimensional shift once before and while the disorientation was pretty bad, that wasn’t the worst part of it. What I saw I won’t even begin to describe. Just know that it’s half the reason I drink as much as I do.
With a bright flash, we materialized in the medical district. I opened my eyes to find that Dr. Cannibal was actually holding his own rather impressively. Granted, this was quite unfortunate because from the gag ind
ucing stench, he must have unleashed a methane grenade right before we arrived.
“Mind if I cut in?” I asked in a voice that was more of a croak than I intended, but I really didn’t want to take in large breaths of smelly air. For a moment, I didn’t even think the Matriarch heard me, but before I could say anything else, two very large hands grabbed me around the waist and I was flying through the air. We landed a few blocks away and the Matriarch set me down with surprising gentleness.
“Sorry kid,” she said with a grimace. “I’m more than happy to tangle with you, but phew! What was in that bomb? The ghost of a two month old truck stop vending machine burrito?”
“Likely,” I said with a shrug. Maybe The Matriarch wasn’t so bad.
“Well, let’s get to it then. I don’t have all night to spend on newbies.”
Fastest opinion change ever.
Needless to say, The Matriarch didn’t share Mr. Unbelievable’s policy on not hitting girls. In fact, as I was hurled against the side of a nearby building, I could see why she was considered the most formidable member of the Liberty Gang, even if she wasn’t the most popular. I barely had time to fire off a single attack before she was on me again. This time I landed in a dumpster that didn’t smell a whole lot better than the methane grenade.
Fortunately, I was only there to provide a distraction while Manifestation set a trap that would pull her back into their realm and trap her there long enough for Dr. Cannibal to break into the hospital’s medical waste holding area and get what he needed. What that was and why he needed it were questions I did not ask nor did I want to know. All I wanted was for him to hurry up, because I wasn’t sure I had any more bones to break.
Finally, Manifestation spoke the invocation and The Matriarch was sucked away. Luckily, that was the last fight I had to drop in on for the evening because I could barely stand without support. I didn’t even protest when Manifestation offered me a trans-dimensional lift directly back to my apartment.
I wish I could say that a hot bath and sleeping in until well after noon did wonders for my physical and mental state, but I’m a villain, not a liar. My costume was in as bad of shape as I was. Under any other circumstance, I would have just thrown on my old leotard, but seeing as I would be dropping in on Take this evening, that probably wasn’t such a good idea. Fortunately, I was well acquainted with a cleaner around the corner that could accommodate rush weekend jobs.
A Shot at the Big Time Page 9
