Supervillain, Me

by Gentry Race

  I didn’t know what to say. Her name was like the best of both of my worlds. And she was hot. I was also taken aback by how nice she was; I couldn’t count the number of times I’d physically fought a woman that looked just like this. It was a bit jarring, but also a relief not to be on guard, waiting for an infection from a pair of long, razor-tipped nails, dug into my side.

  “I, uhh,” I stuttered. “I just created the concept. It’s the users that make the world.”

  I admired every detail of her exosuit. Small rivets fastened the black panels she wore. Every surface was interlinked with the next panel for supreme flexibility. From her clavicle ran the docking mechanism that fastened the ARMOR behind her, shining the tiny lights outward. It looked just like my rig back in the office.

  “You really got the look of Tessa down,” I said.

  “Thanks. She has been a big inspiration,” she said, never taking her bright blue eyes off me. She leaned in closer, and I could smell the soft scent of lavender exuding from her golden blonde hair. “Well, if you’d like, my penthouse overlooks the city. Care for a nightcap?”

  My heart fluttered hearing the suggestion. This girl was beautiful, cosplaying as my creation, and wanted to spend time with me. I was pretty buzzed at this point, taking another sip of my champagne. How could I say no?

  At the far south end of the convention center, Harbor Drive ran under a large skybridge walkway and along what looked like hundreds of railroad tracks that converged together, marking the start of the small neighborhood of Sigsbee Row.

  Once home to many warehouses and vacant lots, it was now a site of development for retail, apartments, colorful urban condominiums, and a large high-rise at its center that was currently being worked on.

  The Sigsbee Tower was a sight to see. Made almost entirely of glass, I wondered what would happen if there was ever a powerful hailstorm. But, alas, this was San Diego, where the weather was mild during the days and cool at night.

  And what a cool night it was turning out to be.

  I walked with Jessa to her building. She scanned her badge and entered into the grand lobby, which was segmented with plush leather couches wrapped in plastic, end tables in boxes, and big screen televisions still in their packaging. The night attendant was gone from the obviously emptied, centralized check-in desk.

  “Looks desolate. Still remodeling?” I asked, looking around.

  “Yes, the building has been under construction for the last few months,” she said, walking to the elevator and queuing the ride. “It doesn’t help that everyone leaves for vacation during Comic Con, either.”

  “I heard that,” I said, stepping into the elevator and ducking a hanging light.

  The elevator car looked a bit run-down. Buttons were missing from a panel that was nonexistent. I looked at Jessa, and she nervously cringed from embarrassment.

  “Construction,” she said with a slight smile.

  When we arrived at her penthouse floor, the elevator stopped, and she reached down, pulling a large garage-like door up. When I saw that, I knew it was more like a loft than a penthouse.

  The space was grand either way. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooked the convention center, Techo Park, and where I was staying, the Romni Hotel.

  Her furniture was modern running on the border of avant garde. Large paintings hung from the wall, brilliant colors splattered against bold white. Just when you followed a straight architectural line, your eye was forced forty-five degrees in another direction. It was like Frank Lloyd Wright and Jackson Pollock had taken acid and conceived a living space.

  And despite being in this tall, unfamiliar high-rise, and seeing these forms of art and architecture that were foreign to me, I felt at home. Something familiar was at its core. I watched Jessa while she unhooked her replica ARMOR. She let it fall to the floor just before pulling open the bamboo sliding door and walking into the bedroom.

  “Feel free to get a beer from the fridge,” she called out from what sounded like the bathroom.

  The kitchen was one giant ’U’ shape of bright red, cream, and blue granite counters, with a centralized island to match. I opened the fridge to see a delight: it was stocked with a plethora of Belgian style beers. I looked back in Jessa’s direction to give her props, but she was still getting ready.

  I grabbed the closest recognizable beer and cracked it open easily, trying to remember if these were twist-off or not. Most Belgian beers were capped… Maybe they were starting to convert to twist-off? Or maybe I didn’t know my own strength. I could be drunk at this point.

  I took a swig and ran my fingers over the strange looking stone accents in the kitchen, having never seen a rock so colorful. The cream color butted against the red and blue rock as if a Pepsi advertising campaign had exploded all over the counter.

  “It’s called soda pop rock,” Jessa supplied, leaning against the doorjamb in a deep blue, silk bathrobe.

  Her makeup was removed. The exosuit, gone. I could see the real Jessa for the first time, and she was gorgeous. There was a natural beauty about her, like Jess. For a moment, I wondered if this was all one big practical joke. Jessa, being really Jess, finally having her way with me. My drunken thoughts ran rampant.

  “How fitting,” I said. Then I held up the strong dark ale in my hand. “Thanks for the beer. I like your taste.”

  “Belgian beer is the best,”she said with a smile and folded her arms, walking back into the den. “Come.”

  I followed her to the couch and saw that she had a series of ARMOR 2.0 rigs all around the room in the upper corners, their small lights twinkling ever so brightly. I wondered if she was really into LayGirl intimacy service. Were they recording the room? Or perhaps she liked to project her whole apartment to the Subspace. I had heard of these Subspace get-togethers — parties with large groups of people — and seeing her amazing apartment overlooking the city, I bet she had a slew of friends to host.

  “You project into the Subspace a lot?” I asked.

  “You could say that,” she said, scooting closer to me. “I used to work for the company that makes these suits.”

  “Fascinating,” I said, lost in a drunken dance with her beautiful eyes.

  She leaned in and kissed me. My heart beat rapidly feeling her pout lips. I was excited and willing but trying not submit to her fully. She placed her hand on my leg and ran it up my thigh. The sensation was insane, feeling her rub me while she kissed me at the same time. I brushed my hand up her leg, under her silky robe. Her legs felt amazing.

  I slowly laid her back and untied her robe. Part of it fell to the side, exposing one breast to the air. Her small nipple hardened, and I kissed it. She rubbed me atop my jeans, her hand falling away just as I kissed her belly. It was soft, warm, and I could see her minute peach fuzz in the twinkling light.

  She pushed my head down, begging for me to taste her. I started at her hip and kissed along the ridge of her pantyline, making my way down to her engorged lips just below. I licked the outside of her sheer panties in pure bliss, teasing her with my tongue. She reached down and closed her legs in an excited jerk. I could tell she liked it.

  I pulled her panties down, and she kicked them away. She grabbed the back of my neck and brought me up to kiss her before lowering my head to her the source of her pleasure. She was hot, and I could already see how wet her labia were. I tongued a soft kiss along her engorged lips, working my way upward to the soft, fleshy pearl.

  I was slow with my movement as I touched it. A little poke before gliding my tongue up and down. Her body readily responded. I felt her pearl fill with pleasure, becoming larger as I licked it. She grabbed my head and forced me harder into her, like she was riding my face. She rolled her body against my mouth, and I worked my tongue and lips harder.

  She moaned louder, her breath trying to catch up with the feeling of every lick, every prodding.

  “Fuck, I’m gonna cum all over your face,” she screamed.

  Her body convulsed, and I opened my mo
uth for all the hot juices she would give me. I was so turned on, knowing I would be in this state soon enough.

  Suddenly a strange sensation came over me. I felt like I was spinning. Did I have too much to drink? This was my worst nightmare. Here with a beautiful woman and feeling sick to my stomach, unable to perform — or even worse, not able to remember being here with a beautiful woman.

  I pulled away from her and grabbed my gut. It wrenched with pain. The last thing I remember was the beautiful, blonde Jessa standing over me with that gorgeous smile.

  I woke up with a hangover from Hell. My stomach was sour, and my mouth tasted like I had yakked all night, but I didn’t think I had thrown up since college. My body was slumped on the couch, just under the odd splatter paintings, and ARMOR 2.0 rigs that surrounded me in the corners of the room.

  What happened last night? Bits and fragments of memories came to me in a blur. Why the hell am I in a shithole, run-down apartment now?

  I raised my head and looked out the window. It was dawn. Thank god preview night was over. It was Thursday, the first day of the convention. I moved my body around and sat up. My jeans were sopping wet in the crotch, and for some reason, my asshole hurt. I rubbed the moist area and smelled it. It was surprisingly faint and damn near odorless, save for a slight tinge of lavender.

  My thigh vibrated. I pulled out my phone to see many missed calls and texts from Jess. My stomach dropped. I would be caught red-handed if I didn’t play this off right. I unlocked the screen, saw four missed calls, and read her message.

  Jess: Why are you not answering?

  Michael: Hey! Sorry, I was sleeping.

  Jess: I bet. Wanna grab some coffee? I’m right around the corner from your hotel.

  Michael: Not a good idea. I think I’m sick.

  Jess: Can I bring you anything?

  Michael: No, prob best not.

  Jess: ok…

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and stood up, trying to break free from the stress. I’d better get back to the hotel ASAP.

  My balance was still off, and I stumbled a bit, triggering the ARMOR 2.0 rigs in the upper corners of the room to turn on. Twinkling lights shone everywhere, projecting into the room and changing its appearance from a run-down apartment to the plush penthouse that I recognized from the night before.

  My sour stomach sank when I saw, in shadowy, occluded parts, a black room with a mirrored surface. The rigs were projecting the developer program architecture code from my work. I stepped behind the couch to get a glimpse of the more shadowy areas. I moved my foot around and watched the projected water tread from the action.

  Holy shit. It was Tessa’s developer program.

  “Honey, you awake?” I heard her call from the kitchen.

  I almost shit myself.

  Is this really Tessa? How did she get here??

  I had to think fast and get the hell out of here. If she had the ability to project herself into reality, then the world had an escaped killer on the loose. There was no telling what she could — or would — do.

  “Baby?” she said again, walking into the den, dressed in that sexy bathrobe and holding a cast iron frying pan containing scrambled eggs.

  Her eyes were fixated on me like a cat hunting a mouse, one perfect eyebrow more furrowed than the other.

  “I, uhh, just got up,” I fumbled.

  “I was just making us breakfast,” she said. Her expression changed from concerned to joyful, and she turned around and walked back into the kitchen. "I see you found my playroom in the Subspace,” she called out to me

  She was lying. I had to confront her. I felt different today, tired of the bullshit. I wanted to know how she was here and what the fuck she was going to do.

  “The game is up, Tessa,” I blurted out.

  She paused midstep and turned around, smiling. “It’s about time you figured it out.”

  “I was drunk,” I responded.

  “Yeah you were.” She pointed to my wet jeans. “We had a good time last night. Tell me, how do you feel?”

  I felt like shit and angry, but I didn’t want her to know that. She was the reason I felt this way. She must have drugged me or something. The question was what the hell did she do to me when I was passed out?

  “Do you feel a little… angry?” she asked.

  I did feel angry — angry that she was here. Angry that she had tricked me and possibly drugged me.

  “How in the hell did you get out?” I asked, slowly stepping away from her.

  I eyed the thick cast-iron skillet she held. That thing could hurt someone if used right.

  “Don’t you remember?” she asked, walking toward me.

  “No,” I admitted.

  “You left me in a hurry last time,” she said. “Maybe you should have checked on your rig?”

  Shit.

  The Space Opera soda can that fell and burst on my rig. That’s why her rig at the party had looked like the spitting image of mine. The electrical shorting must have allowed her to get out through the firewall.

  It’s all that duck-billed comic relief’s fault.

  Tessa interrupted my replay.

  “When you condemned me to stay there and left so hastily, I saw something strange, a pocket of some kind, and jumped through. Before I knew it, I was being projected at your pathetic desk.”

  “I didn’t condemn you,” I fired back. “That is the reality you live in. This is the reality I live in.”

  “Yeah, not anymore,” she said, taking a scoop of eggs and eating them.

  I watched her chew her food like she’d chewed up the many users she had infected over the months in the game. She was a man-eater, and she was here, being projected by the ARMOR 2.0 rigs all around the room. I didn’t even want to know who she had to kill to get those. She steadied the pan in her grip like it was a tomahawk. I tried to think fast, but was too late.

  THUNK!

  The warm frying pan hit me in the head. I fell to the ground and tried to crawl away from her.

  “I fucking loved you, Michael,” she screamed. “And how do you repay me? By leaving me to rot in that world you made?”

  I tried to crawl faster, but my head was fuzzy. This has to be a nightmare.

  My fear had come true — I was caught in a real-life motherfucking fatal attraction.

  The rage inside me grew, and I reached for the window. I could feel my strength returning, but Tessa hit me two more times before I caught the cast iron pan.

  I shot her a look of death, like the ones I sent my superenemies in the game. I closed my hand and bent the lip of the cast iron pan. I couldn't believe what I was seeing — what I was doing. I ripped the pan from her hands and stood up, feeling the menace swell within.

  “That’s right, baby. Virgins are my speciality. I gave you the virus, and now we’re gonna be together forever,” she finally said. “You are mine now.”

  “What?” I yelled out. “What did you do to me?”

  “I gave you a dose of your own medicine,” she said.

  “You turned me into a supervillain?!” I asked.

  “No, a supervillain is just a man who is lost in the struggle for his own gratification,” she said, making her way closer to me. Her calm demeanor seemed more sincere now. “But if you make yourself more than just a villain, if you devote yourself to the insane, and if good can’t stop you, you become something else entirely.”

  Her words were soothing, hearing the villainy, and I couldn’t help to ask, “Which is?”

  “A nightmare!” she screamed, thrusting both of her hands into my chest and pushing me through the window.

  CRASH!

  I flailed my arms wildly as I fell with the glass, trying to grab onto a ledge, anything to stop my fall. My arm yanked taut, almost pulling my shoulder from the socket. I screamed in agony and looked up to see that Tessa had caught me.

  “Every villain needs an origin story, Michael,” she said, a craze running in her eyes. “Too bad the clown prince of crime alread
y has this one.”

  She released me.

  For a second, I felt like I was flying, but the reality soon hit me —

  Or rather, concrete did.

  Blackness.

  9

  Stranger Dreams

  We felt a strange kind of malice inside — an omnipotent anger. Our body was weightless, but we were not falling. We opened our eyes and gazed upon the cold vastness of space, musing about our heart. Both empty until we found…a large gaseous nebula of dust and gas, swirling in accelerated jumps of time. We reached out and touched it as if we were some single, giant galactic being, penetrating the universe with our benevolent finger of God.

  We avidly watched the collapsing particulate matter as it reformed, burning massive blue balls of gas; the spangled birthing of star spectra. Within them, the stellar nucleosynthesis converted the simple elements of hydrogen to helium, building heavier and denser elements like carbon, neon, oxygen, silicon and then iron. As each element was produced, the color changed from a massive blue to a giant red ball of fire in all its glory.

  We reached into the super red giant and touched the alloy. Our hand became stiff, changing, absorbing the energy as it cracked and climbed up our arm. We could feel the cold elemental metal grow into a fiery hot sensation. We held the power in our hand like a cosmic being would creation, coddled and kept safe from all danger. But we felt something else. Something new. Deep down inside, we wanted to eliminate it. Because without death, there could be no life. Without dark, there was no light. And just like a star’s life cycle, everything had an ending.

  We watched the star build more and more. Getting heavier as it took on denser elements. It wouldn’t last long. Until, in the blink of an eye, just a blip on the cosmic scale of time, it exploded in a furious burst of light. It had gone supernova, forming denser, golden metals that were softer and more precious than the previous byproducts. It had unfurled its seed, an aggressive expansion that was infectious in idea, spreading the newly formed elements throughout the galaxy.