Cape High Villainy_A Side Story

by R. J. Ross

  “I do!” Phoebe says, pulling the stolen ID out of her purse and handing it over. “So you’ve been expecting me since yesterday?”

  “We have,” he says. “Mega told us that you’d be back.” This is too easy, she thinks, wondering why she suddenly feels worried. No, she can’t turn back now. It’s all or nothing. If she gets caught, well, they won’t be able to do anything. She’s a norm. But… she could be arrested by the norms.

  Is it really worth the risk? The question lingers in her mind as the black suit leads her to an elevator. Is she about to throw away everything, just in an attempt to get her powers back? But she can’t handle being a norm! Any moment she’s going to be too old to be cast in a role—Hollywood is perfectly happy employing older men, but older women have no chance in hell. Sure, there are exceptions, but not many.

  She has no choice.

  “She’s just down this hall,” the black suit says cheerfully. Phoebe looks over at him, wondering at how easy he seems to be with this situation.

  “So you don’t mind her being interviewed, even though she’s your captive?”

  “Why should I? I trust HTV implicitly.”

  She stops, something about the “I” in that statement bothering her. “You seem quite authoritative for a black suit.”

  “I do?” he says, only to stop at one of the laser walls. “Star Born, we have a visitor for you. You don’t mind being interviewed for a bit, do you?”

  The woman inside the cell turns. She looks terrible. There are dark shadows under her eyes and her expression is unreadable. “I refuse,” she says.

  “Don’t be like that, Star Born, she came all this way to speak with you. You should at least give her a fake smile and a proper blow-off,” the black suit says. Phoebe stares at him, shocked that a black suit would speak that way. From what she’s seen of them, they’re usually far more business-like.

  Star Born fakes a smile. “There, are you happy? Or will you bring in one of your psychics to wipe my mind like Technico threatened?”

  “Wipe your mind?” Phoebe asks, stunned.

  “Oh, did the little nosy reporter not know?” Star Born asks, her tone turning mocking. “When I tampered with someone’s powers without their approval last time, the slap on the wrist I received was a threat to wipe my mind, just like they did to the wolf man.”

  “They did?” Phoebe asks.

  “Now, now, it wasn’t us that wiped Badmoon’s mind,” the black suit says, “it was his brother. I’m sure Mastermental can do it, though. You see, as much as we appreciate your mind, Star Born, we still can’t have you running wild. You should understand that, right, Ms. Woods?”

  Phoebe goes still, “Who?” she asks, covering her surprise quickly.

  “Phoebe Woods,” the black suit says, turning and looking at her. He touches his watch and his appearance changes, revealing who he really is: Maximum. “Star Born, Ms. Woods here wants you to give her powers again. She dislikes the idea of getting old, since Hollywood is a difficult place for older women. So, since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you answer for yourself.”

  Star Born looks at him, and then at Phoebe. “Get bent, Woods,” she says.

  “Ah, that wasn’t very polite,” Max says, smiling slightly. “Here she worked so hard, coming all this way, dressing up and doing her makeup so she looks just like Barbara, and you just shoot her down that quickly. You should at least make her offer money, first.”

  “Are you actually enjoying this?” Phoebe asks him. “You even went so far as to use an illusion to bring me down here, just to see her shoot me down?”

  “I want you to see for yourself,” he says, “otherwise you’re too stubborn to ever give up. Also, Barbara Gentry called about someone pretending to be her just before you showed up. Did you really think it would be that easy?”

  “EASY?” Phoebe demands, snapping completely, “HOW was this easy? I’ve been working my butt off to try and get into this place, only to have you saunter in and pull this stunt! Do you realize how much of a career killer being a norm is? I’ve already lost a role that should have been mine because I have a wrinkle! A WRINKLE! You arrogant jerks think you can do whatever you want, just because you have powers! And look at Star Born! You’ve killed her spirit! Do you not feel any guilt??”

  “Do you?” he asks.

  “I have nothing to feel guilty about!” she says. He looks at her, and she realizes that he’s poking around in her mind. “Stop—don’t—“

  “You’re lying to yourself, and you know it,” he says. It surprises her. “Besides, you might have lost one job, but you’ve gotten offers from five others. And you’re more interested in makeup and directing than you are in acting, anyway. So why are you here, trying this, when you’ve got so many other things going for you?”

  “Because—because—“

  “Look, Phoebe,” he says. “I don’t like you, I really don’t like what you did to my sister, but that’s all in the past, just like your super powers. The door to this world is shut. There are other doors opening all around you. So stop looking behind you and start moving forward. When you can no longer act, go on to become one of the best directors in horror movies that the world has ever seen. You can do it, easily, even without super powers.”

  “So… you brought me down here, just to tell me this?” Phoebe asks, her anger slowly fading.

  “That, and you’re trespassing since you got in by pretending to be someone else,” he says. “I can have you hauled off by the norm police, and oh, what a scandal that would be. I won’t lie; it sounds extremely entertaining to me.”

  “You wouldn’t!“ she says. “You KNEW who I was!”

  “I most definitely would, and really, in that outfit, how could I know you weren’t Barbara? You even have her security card,” he says, smirking evilly as he pulls out his phone. “Hello, Chief? I’ve captured a norm intruder.”

  A moment later she’s being cuffed and pushed into the back of a police car, her hatred for Maximum stronger than it ever has been before.

  ***

  This never would have happened when she was a super, Phoebe thinks darkly as the metal door slams shut behind her. She’s in a holding cell. There are a few other women in here with her, but they ignore her. She resolutely keeps from looking at them, hoping desperately that they won’t recognize her face.

  The sound of footsteps coming down the hall makes her glance up. Her heart starts to pound as she sees Ben standing there with one of the guards. It slows down a second later, because she sees the look on his face.

  “It seems someone’s paid your bail,” the guard says. “You should thank him.”

  “I will,” she says quietly as she stands, heading for the open metal door. “Ben—“

  “Not here,” Ben says sharply. “They’ve decided not to press charges, but we’re supposed to be out of their territory by tomorrow morning. What were you thinking—no, not here.”

  She stays quiet, wondering why she feels sick to her stomach right now. She expects him to dump her. She’s only been using him, right? He’s probably figured it out by now. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but he’s not that oblivious, right? She would dump him if the situation was reversed. So why does it feel like she’s going to cry?

  They get her things back and head out, silently getting into the car. For a moment, neither of them say anything, and then he hits the steering wheel so hard that part of it breaks off, bouncing off of the dash. He lets out a curse. “Now I’m going to have to pay for the repair, too,” he mutters, falling back in the seat and running a hand over his face.

  “Ben—“

  “No,” he says, glaring at her. “I don’t want to hear any more of your lies, Phoebe. Just tell me—were you using me just to try and break into Central Hall?”

  “I…”

  “’Go and follow America’s Son around,’” he says, mocking her voice, “’You can be a star, I just know it,’ you say. You set ALL of this up!”

 
“Yes,” she whispers.

  “Why?”

  “They stole my powers.”

  He goes still, a look of shock on his face. “Your what?”

  “They stole my super powers. I… I did some bad things, with my father… and it was either give up my powers, or get tossed into the Cape Cells. I… I chose to give up my powers,” she says, the tears finally starting to fall. “But there’s a woman in their basement that knows how to create supers. She created Cold Steel. I was going to go in and have her give me my powers back; I’m getting older by the day, Ben. I can’t continue as an actress if I get older. They’ll laugh me out of the business. I—I only have my career left, and soon even that will be gone—“

  “What about me?” he demands. “You had ME.”

  “Soon I’ll be old and you’ll still be young and beautiful, Ben! You’re a super!”

  “I’m a B-class,” he says. “I’ll live to be a hundred and fifty, maybe sixty, it’s not that big of a difference. I’m already in my sixties.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I never told you?”

  “You don’t look a day over thirty,” she admits.

  “Super, remember?”

  “You’ve really been trying to break into Hollywood that long?”

  “We’re getting off the topic, don’t you think?” he says darkly.

  “No, really, I knew your acting was bad, but not THAT bad—“

  “Well, THANKS for pointing that out,” he says. “Tell me the truth, Phoebe. Did you ever love me?”

  She’s silent, and he starts to reach for the door handle. “Not at first,” she says quietly.

  “At first?” he repeats, his hand falling. “Does that mean… you love me, now?”

  “I don’t know!” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “All I know is that when you walked down the hall, just now, I felt like my heart was breaking. And—and Max said I should go into directing. I’ve never told ANYONE that I dreamed about being a director! I didn’t even want to admit it to myself, since I’m a woman! There are very few female directors out there, Ben! But it still felt like—like…”

  “Like?” he prompts.

  “Like… maybe… there might be a future for me,” she says, looking down. “Maybe I could grow to be a crotchety old woman that directs world-famous horror movies, and… and you could be my trophy husband, or boyfriend, or—well, that’s a pipe dream, now, isn’t it?”

  “A trophy husband?” he repeats, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face.

  “I’m not a nice person, Ben,” she says. “I realize that, now.”

  “I knew you were good at acting, but not THAT good,” he says.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands.

  “You just realized it NOW?”

  “Weren’t you the one dating me? Obviously, you must have thought I was a nice person!”

  “Honey, you giggle whenever people die in horror movies,” he says bluntly. “And then you critique the villain over how they should have done it better. Also, you’ve got a REALLY creepy smile whenever you’re mad. I’ve fended off several reporters in the past just because I was worried for their lives.”

  “If I’m that bad, why did you date me?” she demands.

  “Because I find that sort of thing hot,” he says with a teasing leer. “Now… let’s go get our things. We’ve got a very long flight home.”

  “You could have told me that you like bad girls,” she mutters, finally. “Also, I don’t think we can get plane tickets this late in the game.”

  “Who said anything about a plane? Super, remember?”

  She looks at him. “So… you’ll break up with me when we get home?” she asks.

  “Are you kidding? I’m going to be your trophy husband, remember? Plus, you don’t need to know how to act to wield a chainsaw.”

  “Oh, no, Ben, you had BETTER learn to act if you’re going to be in one of my movies,” she says. “I only cast the best.”

  “So… you’re giving up on getting your powers back?” he asks after they grab their things and pile them on his back. He picks her up in a princess hold and takes to the air, starting the long flight back to Hollywood.

  “Oh hell, no, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, right?”

  He lets out a sigh and then grins a bit crookedly. “I thought you’d say something like that.”

  REAPER

  Reaper is the one of the newest villains to our cast, and is probably the least interested in the job. He specializes in faking people’s deaths for a lot of money. Several heroes have “fallen” at his hands, and then retired to a nice little island somewhere, or, possibly run off to flirt with norms three times younger than they are. Recently he’s discovered that he has a daughter, Sandra, and is intent on becoming part of her life, even to the point where he’s willing to move into the apartments… sort of.

  I’ve wanted to write a story like this next one since one of my betas and I decided that Reaper should wear Zoot suits when he’s not working. (Originally I had him in pinstripes.)

  Enjoy!

  Dead Beats

  “So they call themselves… the Deadly Darlin’s,” Reaper says, looking thoughtful as he motions where Nico and Ken should place the next couch. He’d looked at the apartment they offered him, and then he’d looked at the empty, open basement. It’s pretty obvious which won. The basement has more room for dancing.

  “Yeah,” Nico says, placing the antique looking couch down. “I don’t remember moving you in being a part of the lease, though.”

  “Customer service,” Reaper says. “But I feel I have the right to complain if there’s anything about death in a title. Or at least meet them.”

  “Hey… um… deadly dad guy,” Sandra says from across the room, “I’m not sure this counts as art or dirty pictures—also, if you get on Skye’s case, I’ll disown you.”

  “Those are called pin-up girls, sweetheart, they used to be considered dirty, now they’re considered art, so it’s the best of both worlds,” Reaper says, seeing the giant pictures she’s hanging on the wall. “But you know these ‘Deadly Darlin’s’?”

  “I know ‘em,” she says, tilting the picture she’s holding left, and then right before flipping it completely over. “Are you sure you should be letting your innocent teenage daughter look at these?”

  “Doesn’t everyone like to look at pretty girls?”

  “Not particularly—in fact the prettier they are the more irritating they tend to be,” Sandra says. “I’m just sayin’, it looks like she’s missing some parts of her outfit.”

  “Shoes,” Reaper says blandly. Nico and Ken look away, clearing their throats slightly before they regain their composure.

  “Well, whatever,” Sandra says, hanging the picture. “Are you tryin’ to meet Skye and the girls?”

  “I would love to,” Reaper says, smirking slightly as he drops down into his favorite chair. Well, his NEW favorite chair. He’d left his underground base as it is and paid to have this place done in the same style—but more nightclub like. There’s a giant dancing floor in his plans, as well as a stage with an old-fashioned mic right in the middle. “Once we get the club up and running, you can invite them.”

  “So… basically you want the Deadly Darlin’s to come to your club… in the apartment’s basement,” Sandra sums up.

  “Know any bands I can hire for the night?”

  “I know one, but you’ll have to bring them,” Nico says. “You mind Blues?”

  “I LOVE Blues.”

  “Then I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “Next, Sandra needs an outfit… In fact, everyone that’s coming does. I’ll call my tailor, Hisato Nao.”

  “Nao? Any relation to Kim?” Ken asks.

  “Her daddy,” Reaper says. “We’re old friends. He could hardly speak English when I first met him, but he was still one of the finest creator type supers I’ve ever met. He’s gotten better with age. I’ll have him come to
morrow, so anyone who wants to come to our opening in costume should come here. Tell them to wear clothes they don’t mind being turned into something else, it’ll cost less money.”

  “Are they paying for the costumes?”

  “If they can’t afford it, I will. If they can, yes,” Reaper says. “I haven’t had a good party in years.”

  “I’m still not wearing a dress,” Sandra says.

  “We’re going to need a better speaker system down here,” Nico says.

  ***

  “So we’re going to get Flapper dresses?” Emily says excitedly as she waits in line. “AWESOME! Should we tell Skye?”

  “He’s already having daydreams about three ‘Deadly Darlin’s’ hanging out with him, I don’t think we should encourage it,” Sandra says dryly. “And I am NOT wearing a dress. I’ll take one of those funky suits like he wears, I guess.”

  “Zoot suit,” Emily says.

  “There’ll be dance classes after this, right?” Adanna asks from where she’s standing behind Emily.

  “You’re actually going to do that?” Sandra asks.

  “It looks like fun?” Adanna offers. “I’m going to make Sunny learn.”

  “I will be happy to teach you all,” Reaper says, walking up to them. He tilts his fedora—a dark red one with a white band, this time, and gives them a grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I think I’ve seen your picture before, little kitty. Your grandfather showed it to me when he last visited.”

  “Grandfather?” Adanna repeats, looking shocked.

  “Mmhmm,” Reaper says. “Fellow villains tend to meet up once in a while. So, who’s going to call this… ‘Skye’?”

  “You’re really intent on it, aren’t you?”

  “I like supporting new super villains,” Reaper says with a magnanimous hand movement.

  “He likes pretty girls,” Sandra says, blowing the grand move with a single sentence. “He’s got a ton of pin-up girls hanging on the walls over there.”

  “I want to see them! I LOVE pin-up girls!” Emily says. “They’re so cool looking and the outfits are amazing!”