Supervillain, Me

by Gentry Race

  This guy thinks he can steal my girl?

  “The Mime has been the central villain for the Quantum Universe for over ten years now,” the announcer continued. “Will he be able to pull off the robbery of the century?”

  “Hey, isn’t that Blaine McCormick?” Ari asked.

  I looked closer and recognized his sharp jawline, as it chewed on a piece a gum I wanted to make him choke on. I grinned at the thought. Violins played to the tune of a classical piece in my head, building the tension, and waiting for me to commit the murder on his unsuspecting soul.

  Let’s show these people — these rats — that when the chips are down, they’re gonna eat each other.

  I stepped away slowly, letting the onlookers behind me fill my place next to Ari. He didn’t seem to notice my absence, so I took an elevator down to the restaurant where more attendees were packed, trying to order a stupid comic book character themed drink.

  “Hey, nice cosplay, pal,” a random fan said while texting on his smartphone, and then ran his fingers over my metallic skin.

  When he saw that it didn’t press in like normal skin, I grabbed his hand.

  With a snap back and a rotation of my body, I twisted his fragile digits, breaking them, and threw him to the ground. He screamed in agony while holding his fingers. He wouldn’t be touching any supervillains or texting with those fingers for a month.

  One of his friends came to his aid, wearing an identical shirt and a mask that looked like The Mime’s face. He was met with my two elbows, as I spun around and knocked them into his head. I felt like my eyes were on fire, looking at the crowd that was too scared to say anything. My skin was indestructible, and I was yearning for more chaos. I pulled The Mime’s shirt off him and snatched the mask, putting it over my own face.

  Outside, the ‘real’ Mime was giving the rehearsed run-down to the first set of guards. They play-fought in front of the door and the guards hit the ground just like before. The Mime was now under the concrete overhang of the bank.

  “The Mime is the axis of all evil!” the announcer quipped.

  I reached out with my magnetic mind and felt the rebar within the structure in all of its metallic glory. With a clench of my fist and a quick downward jolt of my hand, the overhang tore free from the bank. The weight of the concrete fell on top of Blaine McCormick, crushing his body and skull. Blood that appeared black in the moonlight began to pool from under the debris, and the spectators screamed at the horror they’d just witnessed.

  I felt conflicting emotions in that moment. Disdain and hatred for the soul I had just taken, but also a confused, troubled something echoing inside my head.

  Michael, what are you doing? I cocked my head, lost in the moment. I just killed a man. But then the ebb stopped, and I flowed into villainy once again.

  I could hear the announcer fumble his words. “My dear god, we’ve had a terrible accident! Someone call nine-one-one!”

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” I boomed. “Please do not be concerned. It’s all…part…of the plan,” I assured them, assuaging their fears.

  The crowd was confused, unable to decipher what was real and what was part of the show.

  “I am tonight’s entertainment!” I yelled from under the mask.

  Off in the distance, I could hear quiet sirens, making their way toward me. It was just a matter time, I supposed. I reached out both hands and ripped the doors off the bank wide open.

  The announcer wasn’t done for the night. “Somebody, anybody, please stop him! He is not part of the show.”

  I looked at the stage, darting my blood-red eyes of rage into him like daggers. I knew he could see them through my mask.

  He pissed his pants.

  I raised my hand and ‘pulled’ the microphone from him. The mass of people was stunned to watch it float across the green and into my hand. They all clapped like it was some kind of magic trick from an ancient, hokey religion.

  I lifted the microphone to my mask and my other hand toward the DJ. “You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs,” I reminded the crowd.

  I lowered my hand and brought the stage lighting and bracing down on the DJ; he was crushed instantly. The crowd cheered again.

  How lovely. They think it’s part of the show. They were falling for it.

  I turned my attention back to the bank, but instead of innocent patrons making their daily deposits, a muscular figure — a superheroine I’d never seen before — stood in front of me.

  She wore a black biker helmet with a red, offset racing stripe that stopped three quarters of the way down. Her hands were on her hips, resting on a belted hard paneled suit. The standard heroic pose was clichéd. Her costume was more than just spandex, accentuating a toned physique; it was undercut with a thick teflon fabric weave.

  This was more than just cosplay.

  “You just killed two men,” she said, her voice electronically modified. “What would make you do such a thing?”

  I shrugged, laughed evilly, and asked, “Why so curious?”

  Then I rushed at her and kicked her hard. She flew back into a series of teller booths, smashing them to pieces. She shot back up to her feet, but I didn’t care. I wanted that vault more than I wanted to beat a superbuffoon.

  I moved to make my way there, when I felt a slight tingle from below. I looked down and saw a small charge ticking on the ground. It was a bomb. I looked back at her, unimpressed at the attempt to stop me.

  BOOM!

  Electrical energy overloaded into me. My metallic arms burned as they conducted most of the energy, and I fell to the ground. It took a second for me to regain the use of my limbs. As I finally stood up, she lunged at me. I caught her first blow, and then the second. We fought each other’s strength, pushing on each other like a reverse tug of war. She was strong, even for my metallic bionic arms.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, pushing harder.

  “This is for the supervillain that never wins,” I said, leaning closer.

  And then I felt it. She was overpowering me.

  I wrenched my grip, crippling her armpiece, to which she responded from under the helmet, “I don’t need a suit to stop you.”

  She fought harder, and I fell to my knees.

  I felt as if it were happening in slow motion, my defeat. All the spectators — even Jess — were watching a villain lose, again.

  I heard the sirens just outside now. The stars screamed at me to retreat, and suddenly that was the only thing on my mind. With all my remaining strength, I conjured what I could, feeling the metal that made up my body, and spent it in a burst of percussion.

  The heroine went flying back.

  I looked around in panic, and then looked upward. Conjuring another burst of energy, I lifted away from the scene.

  The fake bank heist event, the horrified spectators, my so-called friends, they all shrank in size as I climbed in altitude. The clouds rushed past my metallic epidermis, freezing it colder than the murders I had just committed.

  I slowed myself. Hovering above San Diego, I could see the white headlights and red tail lights of traffic coming and going to the convention. Beneath me, this awful city screamed like a slaughterhouse full of feeble-minded dressed children.

  I lowered myself closer to the disgusting, costumed vermin. They were obsessed with us — with me and my kind. They worshipped villains and I’m gonna’ give it to em’.

  When I landed in an alleyway and walked out into the rushing crowds, no one took notice. The smell of French fry burritos filled my nose, but didn’t whet my appetite. A man dressed as an Ent-looking creature walked by me, his roots sodden with green moss, and a cybernetic raccoon puppet affixed on his shoulder. I thought this a strange sight, but they didn’t spare me a second glance, witnessing me in my evil prime.

  My boss had been right: a bank heist during Comic Con was the perfect getaway for a supervillain.

  Two down. The rest of the peons to go.

  11

>   Saturday Shenanigans

  I opened my eyes. Across the room, sitting in the recliner by the window, the silhouette of a paneled exosuit and ARMOR was obvious — Tessa.

  I scrambled from my bed, pressing against the wall in fear. I looked for an exit, but the door and window were shut. She had me trapped like an animal and I was her prey. It was fight or flight now.

  I looked down at my only defense — my metal that my arms, but they were back to normal. I licked my teeth and felt that they were flat and less grimy again. I felt somewhat normal — less angry. I must be back to me.

  What the hell is going on? How did she find me?

  “What are you doing here?” I asked aloud.

  I startled her, and she got up, stepping into the ambient light. The soft luminance accentuated everything that was familiar about my Jessica. It was her in the flesh, but in a Tessa costume that nearly gave me a heart attack. When I looked closer, I could see its flaws, the lacking details, the missing paint striations; these imperfections only gave me a sense of relief, knowing it was really her.

  “Jess,” I said.

  “Michael, are you okay?” she asked, sitting next to me.

  “I am now,” I said, reaching for a hug. “Why are you dressed like this?”

  “I told you it would be a surprise,” she said, delicately. “It was actually James’ idea.”

  “What?” I asked, thoughts of my brother flooded my head. James did always like her preliminary designs.

  “When you first developing Tessa, he thought it would make for an awesome cosplay,” she said.

  She held me like I was a child. Her scent was a mix of vanilla and sunflower. When she was this close, she had all my attention; I thought of no one else. It was the distance between us that was killing my feelings for her. Not to mention the ridiculous rage monster I was infected with. Did she even know?

  “What happened last night?” I asked.

  She let me go and gave a frown. “You left the event early. Hera came and got me, and you were gone. She mentioned you weren’t feeling like yourself.”

  Thank god. She didn’t know.

  The weight of the situation slung heavy over me. I had killed two men, and there was no bringing them back. I felt like my soul was tarnished. Branded not on the surface, but deep within by a mark that read ‘murderer’.

  Knock Knock!

  A rapping came from the door, then Ari poked his head in wearing a green alligator hoodie. “Hey, man. You feeling better? I came home, and you were already passed out. Thought maybe you were feeling sick again.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. Even though my neck was being cinched by a rope of guilt.

  “Man, that freak accident last night was terrible. Iconoclast had to close the demo, man.”

  “I saw it happen,” Jess said, responding to my ill reaction. “The news on TV said it was due to faulty construction. A freak accident.”

  An ‘accident’ indeed, and I was the freak.

  “Sucks, man, but we are still on for the panel today,” he said. “Maybe we can go a little early so I can hit that poster booth from Austin, Texas?”

  Jess smiled and said, “We actually have a group that’s been camping in line since last night.”

  Jess and her friends were on top of all the measures to get into the hot panels, celebrity signings and exclusive toy giveaways. They would make a whole night out of it, bringing foldable chairs, sleeping bags, and their favorite game ‘Settlers of…’ something. I could never remember. It was hard to keep interest in board games when Iconoclast had games that were so immersive.

  “Well, that cosplay you had was sick last night. Check out my mine for today,” he enthused, pulling on his hood that resembled an alligator head.

  “No cosplay for me today. At least, I don’t think,” I said.

  “Aw, it’s cool. Well, be ready in thirty, so we can at least hit the con before the panel in Hall H.”

  Ari slowly closed the door, but not before making a fist with his hand and moving his tongue inside his cheek in the universal sign for a blowjob. I couldn’t help but smile. Then the reality of what I’d done set back in.

  Jess noticed my expression.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing,” I said. I decided to change the subject. “So, how’s the con going? You won a contest?”

  “Yeah,” she said, tugging on her suit. “You know, it's only because of you.”

  “What?” I asked. “How?”

  “Well, you’ve been talking so much about her and what went into the development of the game, and when I heard it was being featured here, I decided to go for it. People really love your property, Michael.”

  “Yeah,” I said somberly.

  I tried to listen to the kind things she was saying, but there wasn’t a company in the world that would let a murderer create video games. My time was soon going to be up. I just wasn’t sure how to fix it. Getting rid of Tessa’s infection would be a good start; at least I could keep things from getting worse.

  I felt her hand touch my thigh. “You know, I’ve been thinking about us, Michael.”

  I was taken by surprise. Her touch was something I’d been yearning for for almost three years now, ever since high school, and here she was, rubbing me.

  “Thinking about what?”

  “Well, I know you are stressed out about the whole sex thing,” she admitted.

  My thoughts went wild with what she was saying. Can it be? Is this really happening?

  I tried not to look overly excited. Instead, I reached over and cradled her chin for a small kiss. I felt her hand move over my lower region, and I grew in size.

  Part of me was filling with anger over thoughts of my brother, while the other part of me was stoked with passion for my high school sweetheart.

  She leaned over and planted a heavier kiss on me.

  We started making out, rolling around on top of each other like we had always done, but this time was different. This time, she seemed a bit more aggressive. For some reason this bothered me, and I stopped her.

  “Jess,” I said. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  She thought for a moment and then took a deep breath. “Well, there was an incident.”

  I pulled myself out from under her, not wanting to hear the words she was saying.

  “Incident?” I echoed. “Like what kind of incident?”

  “Well, I got a little too tipsy and made out with Becky,” she admitted.

  A sense of relief came over me. We had each acted irresponsibly. Could the score be settled?

  “Hey, we make mistakes,” I casually said.

  “Again,” she said.

  “Again? How many times did you make out with Becky?”

  “Well, a few times back in college, but we were just experimenting,” she explained. “Then Tiffany came over, and we started playing games. Like sexy games.”

  I was blown away. I couldn't believe what this little Christian girl was telling me. It was like she was having her midlife crisis at the age of twenty-one. Why was she acting like this — so promiscuous and forward about it?

  “So, I just wanted you to know that they didn’t mean anything to me,” she continued. “I really love you, and I think this hiccup really showed me that,” she finally said.

  I was conflicted. She had been putting me off for so long, and now I come to find out she was messing around on the side all along.

  Well, so have I. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.

  She placed her hand back on me.

  “I want to show you I am fully committed now,” she said, slowly moving her head down.

  She could feel how hard I was under my jeans. My shaft was begging to come out and kiss her back. She finally unzipped my pants and pulled it out. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it or touched it; one night, a while back, she had been curious about it. I had a feeling this was going to be different.

  “I wan
t to help you before your big panel,” she said.

  I went straight as an arrow when she said that. She held it like an old friend and smiled up at me. She was like my Comic Con groupie.

  I was leaning back on my elbows, watching every move she made. She licked her lips and kissed the tip. She was hesitant to put the whole thing in her mouth at first, and only sucked on the head. When I gently touched the back of her head, she let me ease her down to my satisfaction.

  Up and down her head went as she got into the rhythm of it. I couldn’t believe I was finally feeling Jessica’s mouth on me — finally having her polish what we had been working at for three years. She slurped up what spit was dripping down the length of me. I was pleased when she wasn’t afraid to grab my balls and slightly tickle them for a second stimulation.

  I was in heaven.

  She brought her mouth up to the tip again and used both hands to work the base. I could tell what she wanted now. It had only been a matter of minutes, but I held on longer, not wanting to waste the moment. She began to swivel her tongue around it, and I caught a glimpse of her perfect smile. She was gorgeous, playful, and now, I knew, dedicated. I had been her Comic Con celebrity all along.

  Is this real?

  “Relax,” she moaned.

  It was hot. I clenched my cheeks in a moment of weakness, and threw my lengthy, silky ropes of essence into her mouth. She gobbled down on my shaft that very moment, and I spasmed three more times, letting her have it all. Finally, she slurped up the last drop and wiped her mouth.

  Her lips were bright red, and she smiled just before leaning over and kissing me on the forehead. “Good luck, babe.”

  For a second, I thought I saw her irises flash a tinge of red, but I dismissed it, chalking it up to the low lighting. How had I gotten so lucky? She was a giver.

  After the initial afterglow, I thought back to what she had told me. Had she really messed around with Becky and Tiffany? How could a fling trigger her to just give up her values? I thought on it some more. Maybe it was me. I was compromised after all with Tessa’s infection — filled with villainous thoughts. It must have been me.