Supervillain, Me

by Gentry Race

  Is that Jess, cosplaying as Tessa? I did make Tessa’s features to resemble Jess’s…

  As she walked toward me, it became evident that it wasn’t Jess, but the woman’s semblance to Tessa was remarkable. I couldn’t believe that a fan had paid so much attention to detail, down to every evil pixel.

  Then I noticed something moving behind her. ARMOR — locked to her clavicle, and appearing to float behind her like a pair of broken angel wings, painted in small striations of purple and yellow.

  Just like mine.

  Tiny lights shone, indicating that she was being projected from Subspace.

  “You must be my creator,” she said.

  I was flabbergasted that she’d spoken to me. The woman was beautiful in every sense.

  Ari bit his lip, stunned to see Tessa in the flesh. “Whoa,” he breathed. “Cool cosplay.”

  Hera was quiet. I couldn’t tell if she was giving Tessa a salty look behind her mask.

  “Yeah,” I agreed with Ari. “What was your name?”

  “I didn’t say,” the woman said, walking past me to the bar.

  As she ordered a drink, I admired every inch of her. She was the evil goddess in the flesh.

  “Michael,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned around and recognized our lead programmer at Iconoclast, James Pina. James had a knack for code. He’d once stopped an intern from accidentally recursively deleting an entire database. He had been regarded as a knight in shining armor since, and was here to handle logistics.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “She’s gone,” James said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Who’s gone?”

  “Tessa. She’s fucking gone,” James said.

  “She’s right there, bro,” Ari said, pointing to the cosplayer as a joke.

  James shook his head in disappointment.

  Tessa sometimes took a break from her game space. Even though she couldn’t leave, she still liked to construct NaN spaces within the Subspace — voids where she could hide and perform torturous acts on unwilling users. These null spaces were hard to spot using Iconoclast’s combing algorithms.

  “Don’t sweat it, James,” I said. “She’s probably in a null, torturing some poor sap.”

  “She’s supposed to be here for this event, Michael,” James said.

  “Yeah, she’s supposed to be helping the volunteer supervillains in the promo heist,” Hera added.

  I remembered Phil telling me something about her doing her ‘virus’ thing at the event. But what really cooked my noodle was what James had just said.

  Tessa can project here, in our reality?

  It was ridiculous. Even after experiencing the LayBoy event earlier and using the new ARMOR 2.0 technology from Enconn, I believed that what I had seen and felt were probably just actors from afar, not A.I simulations come to life.

  Phil Travis ran up to us, interrupting the conversation like he was trying to put out a fire. “Where is Tessa, Michael? She needs to show off the ‘infection’.”

  “I’m not sure. My guess is she’s built a NaN.”

  “A NaN?” Phil asked, his eyes glossing over at the term.

  “ ‘Not a number’,” I said. “It's a null, a void. Think of it like a bucket or an artifact that you can fill with code.”

  “We don’t have time for clunky computer talk,” he said, looking at Hera. “We have our hero, now we need our villainess. The game is called Supervillain, Me, for Christ’s sake, Michael.”

  “Vixen Laserwave,” Hera blurted out.

  Vixen Laserwave was one of the main villains in her game The Mubble Fubbles. Short-cropped, dark hair, big hoop earrings, and an eighties cyberpunk ‘fuck off’ attitude to match. She would add a nice aesthetic as an adversary.

  “Vixen could work,” I said, aligning with Hera. The exposure would be really good for her game, and she could use all the help she could get with sales.

  Phil thought for a moment. I could tell he was working out the consequences of cross-promoting both games at once. You didn’t want to drown your big push with another game.

  “Fine,” Phil said, flashing his teeth. “Hera, get her online and out here from the Subspace. You better go now. The event is starting.”

  Hera nodded with a smile and left with haste.

  I looked out at the crowd starting to amass. Ari looked over excited as he slapped me on my back indicating ‘A job well done.’

  A voice boomed out through an overhead speaker:

  Welcome, everyone, to the Iconoclast Live Action Demo Heist of Supervillain, Me: where you get to die a villain, or live long enough to see yourself become the hero.

  We all turned our attention to a large, snappy dressed man, speaking into a microphone. His thinning, blonde, widow’s peaked hair was spiked as high as he looked. His eyes were dull as a robot’s, and his voice was deep as a cistern. He had the look of a seasoned actor with a love for jelly donuts. The easy way he held the microphone with three fingers mimicked how one held a pair of chopsticks: skillfuly, yet with grace.

  The announcer continued:

  Now, ladies and gentlemen, for tonight's demonstration, please turn your attention to the terrace on the green just in front the ballpark.

  Ari and I gathered at the edge of the fair weather’s deck, along with the bigwigs, fans and the crowd of freeloaders getting drunk on Iconoclast’s dime. The workmen that had been setting up before had finished and gone. The DJ was waiting patiently, with a pair of headphones mounted over a sporty backwards hat.

  Next to the stage, among the shops, was the bank: California Credit Union. The bright blue, unappealing logo shone bright in the dusky sky, above two security guards wearing fake pistols.

  Around the guards, Ari pointed out more characters from the Quantum Universe, as they numbered by the hundreds. People of all sizes were dressed in carefully constructed costumes. It was a wide mix, from the very random hooded hero Green Phoenix — carrying a longboard, various tablets for app development were attached to his hip, and wearing magnetic gauntlets — to the sultry, seductive Penumbra, a woman wearing a sheer blue gown, her head adorned with a large, half-moon-shaped headdress big enough to block out the sun.

  These onlooker characters were crazy to see.

  They all waited in anticipation. You could hear the drop of a pin despite the crowd. Each person was quiet as a mouse. I could see Ari grip the railing in excitement. My heart beat picked up in rhythm, hoping the heist event was successful. So much weighed on this being successful — to show the comic goers and non-gamers how fun Supervillain, Me was.

  A large cheer erupted from the crowd, as the first volunteer villain came in. He wore a skin-tight green, purple and yellow suit, with silver vambraces on his forearms. His mask was ridiculously large and outrageously shaped into cartoon thunderbolts. On his back, he wore a large metal pack that ran cables to the vambraces.

  The announcer continued:

  And now, for our first contestant, Sparky Hazard.

  The villain stuck his arms in the air, and controlled electrical sparks shot between each armlet like a modern day Nikola Tesla device. The crowd oohed and ahhhed at his villainy, applauding it furiously. He snarled now focusing on the sea of people separating and forming a clear path to the bank. The two guards took a ready stance, placing their hands on their pistols.

  What leg does Good have to stand on in the face of Evil?

  Next to the bank, the large display showed what was going on inside. Bank goers were standing in line, ready to make their daily deposit. The interior lights were brightly lit to compensate for the darkness outside. Tellers were making fake transactions, waiting for their oppressor to come.

  Outside, a gang of minion robots joined up behind Sparky. Their faces were colored in neon pink and blue paint. Hazard began to make his approach toward the guards, the minions following. He stuck out his arms and initiated his lightning, then began to shoot at the ceiling above the guards. They immediately
began shaking and convulsing, overacting bodily spasms and dropping to the ground.

  All part of the plan, I thought.

  Hazard thrust his electrical vambraces forward, sparking them at the doors, which flew wide open. On the screen, I could see people ducking and diving under desks, teller windows, and kiosks. These actors were good. Along with Vixen Laserwave in a small window on the display screen. off to the side. This dynamic duo looked impossible to stop.

  She cracked a nod as Hazard entered the bank. More security guards piled into the room out of nowhere and drew their guns, like I was watching the end of any sci-fi action movie.

  Hazard cracked a smile and shot electrical beams into the lights. Everything went dark. He then electrocuted the guards, sparking above each one as they all fell to the ground.

  Looks like it’s lights out for everyone.

  “Vixen Laserwave, let’s heighten the mood,” Hazard yelled out to his evil accomplice, who was helping him and watching safely from the Subspace.

  Vixen laughed hysterically into the comms from a small window in the display screen, pushing a button and bringing the room from darkness to a purplish UV light. Everything glowed bright neon, including the fear Hazard had struck in the whites of their eyes.

  Hazard’s robot minions, behind him, were also glowing. The highlighted UV paint on their faces making them look even more menacing. Hazard gestured to them, and they ran to each bank patron, robbing them of their wallets, pending deposits, and jewelry.

  Hazard then threw all his energy into the teller’s booth.

  BOOOM!

  The targeted booth blew up into pieces and shards. The crowd outside gasped in terror seeing the carnage within, as if they couldn’t see the line between fact and fantasy. It's like as if reality didn’t have enough terror in it for these attendees and we needed to see the horror — to have conflict. Without conflict there was not story. And only then did we feel alive.

  The announcer squealed in excitement:

  Boom shakalaka! He’s going for the vault!

  I looked at Ari. He was zoned into the action, the tension of the moment. He showed me what everyone else was feeling. I couldn’t help but shake my head.

  If I were the villain, I would have killed all the minions, the patrons, and then blew up the bank — money and all. The heist wasn’t about money; it was about sending a message. I wanted to set the world on fire and watch it burn to ashes.

  But as the heroic figure made her way into the bank, I realized this demo wasn’t about the villain. Amid the clearing smoke, under the UV light, Hera dazzled; her Venetian colors glowing three shades brighter than before. They had planned it all. They wanted her to outshine the villain.

  Now, there’s our super heroine!

  Hera raised her fist and took a guarded stance. Her body flexing every muscle she had. She was hot, a goddess in disguise.

  “That’s enough, Hazard,” she called out.

  Sparky Hazard turned around with so much menace, so much anger in his eyes, you could have cooked an omelet on his face. And like with every good omelet you had to break some eggs. It was time for Hazard to step up or risk losing it all, I thought.

  He then raised his arm, pointing to his minions. Now, that’s better.

  “Get her!” he yelled, running for the vault inside.

  Every neon minion attacked her. Hera was graceful in her movement, side-kicking one robot and then another. She dropped to her hands and spread her gorgeous, thick thighs into splits, like a breakdancer on steroids. She flipped on her back and into a spin, swinging around on her back. She swept every attacker that wanted to tangle with ease. Robot pieces were sent flying all over, hitting onlookers, who attempted to protect their heads from impact.

  On the screen, Vixen Laserwave looked devastated that her creator, Hera, now masked has a rival superhero, was destroying what Vixen had helped to create. With the robot horde gone, a fat red ‘X’ fell over Vixen’s image, indicating that she’d lost and was out of the game.

  Oooh, Vixen’s out! How will Hazard fare on his own?

  Sparky Hazard came out with bags of cash hanging from each hand, more loot than he could carry for a long period of time. He looked at his desecrated minions, now destroyed, lying in waste. He grimaced, dropped the cash, and summoned a strong electric current from his backpack.

  Hera stood confidently, never flinching. She raised her fists, as if she was ready to take the blast of electricity straight to her face. This made me a bit tense.

  Hazard sent a blast in Hera’s direction. She dodged it with a tumble to the right. Another blast came, but she moved quickly, closing the distance between her and the villain. He bolted another strike.

  CRAAACK!

  The lightning hit Hera hard. She slid back a few feet.

  A moment passed. It was just long enough for the crowd to see Sparky Hazard crack a smile and walk toward her, his shadow looming over her as large as he wanted the world to see him.

  Ouch! That’s gonna leave a mark!

  WHAACK!

  Hera stopped Hazard with a kick to the nuts.

  He fell back to the ground, holding what had been his groin. I could see the announcer wince.

  Oh! A blow to what his mama gave him!

  Hazard’s pride and manhood ached in pain as Hera stood above him.

  I almost wanted to yell out ‘Cheating!’ but I restrained my inner bad guy. This wasn’t my fight.

  Hazard aimed his vambraces again, cracking energy into the heroine once more, but she took it in stride and leaned in closer. The electricity strobed the room, the flickers refracting the action like it was some kind of battle to the death techno disco.

  “Why are you not dying?” he asked, pulsing more electrical energy bolts into her chest. He was weakening, his battery faltering. “You’re not dying.”

  I watched him figure it out: the electric charge, her rubber padded suit and overly thick rubber soles. She was insulated from the current.

  “It's men like you that make the world a bad place,” Hera finally said, raising a thick-soled boot and slamming it down on Sparky Hazard’s face.

  He’ll be tasting shoe bottom for a week!

  She had won.

  The crowd cheered as the superheroine walked out, took a bow, and lifted her mask. Hera was beautiful and had fit her role to a T.

  I looked at Ari with my less than thrilled expression that the good gal had won. Ari, however, clapped and whistled incessantly until I nudged him to stop.

  The announcer wrapped up his speech:

  And there it is, folks. Supervillain, Me at its finest. Where a player starts as the villain, and the only way to win is survive or pass it on. Do you have what it takes to live long enough to become the hero? Do you have what it takes to beat Hera?

  8

  Cosplayed and left for bed

  The Iconoclast party was still in full swing in the wee late hours. Executives from other studios had joined to get in their fair share of free cocktails and networking.

  The crowd below had dispersed when the evening’s event had come to an end, and the only revelers left were hordes of Middle-Earth elves with orc glowing swords, and bionic cyborgs, blinking wildly in the night. Hera was nowhere in sight, and Ari had already left with a sultry woman dressed as a puppet from his favorite children’s TV show.

  My stomach felt sour about the demo. Why did they have to let the hero win all the time?

  I sipped more champagne, letting the tiny bubbles filter through my teeth like Belgian beer did. An awesome PR party thrown by one of the biggest game producers in the world, and all they could provide were sugary, tropical drinks. I looked at the menu, noticing they rated each drink’s strength using skulls and crossbones.

  How fitting, I thought.

  My thumb hovering just over the menu as I scanned the selection, my eye caught on a beverage called a ‘Walking Dead’. This was, of course, just a zombie at every other tiki bar in the nation, but San Diego always transf
ormed itself during the week of Comic Con. Jess always went on about the restaurants, arcades, breweries and bars that converted their menus to superhero-themed titles and offerings. She found it fascinating, but I thought it was a bit of a façade.

  I looked at my phone. No texts from Jess yet.

  Michael: Hey.

  Jess: Hey.

  Michael: Miss you. When are we going to meet up?

  Jess: Soon. My costume just won best prize in the show!

  Michael: Awesome. Call me.

  Well, that was that. I was happy for her. She usually worked all year long to devise the craziest and most detailed costume she could; however, this year had been different. She was more secretive about her project.

  Dread and thoughts of doubt plagued my mind.

  Has she been seeing someone? She is in her college town, with old friends and all those memories…

  Jess was gorgeous, she could get any guy she wanted… And it’s not like I had a problem getting girls. Look at Hera. She would date me in a heartbeat.

  I felt a sense of pride, almost a boasting, swell within myself. I kind of liked it. As if I could be a villain without being in a game or having real superpowers.

  “Why the long face,” a soft voice said from behind me.

  I turned around, and there she was in the flesh. The girl dressed as Tessa. I was speechless. It was like someone had ripped the fantasy from my inner dreams and manifested it into reality. I could tell this girl wasn’t truly Tessa, though. The way she acted and held herself wasn’t even slightly close to how Tessa did, holding a knife behind her back.

  “My name’s Jessa,” she said as she fluttered her eyes at me and pouted her lips. “So, what’s it like creating one of the hottest game properties in the world?”