The Supervillainy Saga (Book 4): The Science of Supervillainy

by Phipps, C. T.

  “What about your daughter?” Diabloman asked.

  “Cindy and Gizmo will be staying with me. Mandy is my wife, and I’m not at all down with the whole harem comedy thing they keep suggesting. Like Jerry Seinfeld, I don’t have the furniture for that. Still, they aren’t going to turn down a mansion and a place with people they love. I also—well, love them and am going to put them first. Just . . . I’m going to put supervillainy second. I’m even financing Gizmo’s scientific side. She’s built me a starship.”

  “A starship,” Diabloman repeated, focusing on the least important element.

  “A working replica of the Millennium Falcon,” I said. “She didn’t actually build the whole thing, just a bunch of robots to build other robots, which built it for her. I’m frankly worried about a Skynet-esque event now.”

  Diabloman nodded. “What do you think of that?”

  “I think no one imagined the robot revolution would involve robot horses with four hands and built-in tools.”

  “Gary, be serious.”

  I closed my eyes. “I want my daughter to be safe. I would give up being a supervillain in an instant if I thought I could spend the rest of my life with her and Mandy. Unfortunately, I’m already neck deep in this crap, and it’s going to take a lot of villainy to get out of it. Still, I’m going to be part of her life even if I must pretend Cindy is raising her to defeat me. You know, so heroes don’t go after her.”

  Diabloman looked at me with sympathetic eyes. It took him almost a minute to respond. “I don’t even know how to react to that.”

  “Just nod your head at the crazy person.”

  Diabloman nodded and placed his hand on my shoulder. “So, does this mean you chose Mandy over Cindy? That you aren’t going to try to make something together work?”

  I took a deep breath. “There was never really a choice. It was always Mandy.”

  Diabloman grunted a noncommittal response before removing his hand.

  The two of us departed the medical center and entered the main portion of the house. What greeted us was the sounds of cheers and LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem.” The mansion’s main hall was full of supervillains.

  The survivors of the attack were gathered here alongside hundreds of others freed from Other Gary’s secret prisons across the country. There were also groupies, political dissidents, and gangsters celebrating the fall of Other Gary with glasses of champagne or harder substances. The lights were turned low as multicolored lights and will-o-wisps provided a mesmerizing experience. It was like Club Inferno, only with genuine joy instead of the danse macabre of despair.

  Sic Semper Tyrannis.

  “It appears you have been busy,” Diabloman said, staring at them.

  “I took the opportunity to go through Other Gary’s records with Mandy’s help. They included the locations of all his gulags and brainwashing centers. I substituted a new set of orders to start rolling back his orders to turn them into loyal servants of the New Order.”

  “Some of these people are monsters,” Diabloman said.

  “I didn’t roll back all of them,” I said. “Psychoslinger, for example, is still working at a fast food restaurant in Dallas. The Slaver is still dead despite attempts by the newly zombified Left-Handed Bokor to resurrect him. Most of them are just common thieves, extortionists, mercenaries, and the general scum we know and love. As for the monsters? Well, I’m keeping them on a short leash, but they have their purposes too.”

  “Maybe you can redeem them too.”

  I laughed.

  Diabloman looked at me funny.

  “Oh, you were serious.”

  A cosplaying waitress dressed as Cindy walked up to me and handed us both a glass of champagne. I pulled out a poison-scanner from my cloak and ran it over our drinks before downing mine in one gulp. I then threw my glass against the wall and laughed as it broke.

  “It is likely the Society of Superheroes is going to have a difficult time defeating your new forces, especially once you start recruiting more.”

  “I leave that to you,” I said. “You’re my go-to man for villainy. I dub you my dragon in the TV tropes sense.”

  “Excuse me?” Diabloman said.

  “Long story,” I said, giving him a thumbs-up. “Enjoy yourself, D. I need to go talk to Mandy about my upcoming plans.”

  I started scanning the area for Mandy and instead found Gabrielle and Amanda sipping champagne from paper cups in front of my confetti-covered couch. Both women were wearing fake costumes that made them look very different from their usual selves. Still, I’d know them anywhere.

  “Would you believe me if I said you reminded me of my ex-girlfriend?” I said, walking up to Gabrielle.

  Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you that you reminded me of the city’s former dictator?”

  “No, no I wouldn’t,” I said.

  “Hi Gary,” Amanda said. “How is Diabloman?”

  “Better,” I said. “How are you holding up? Is vengeance everything you thought it would be?”

  Amanda paused. “I should say it feels empty. It does, to a certain extent. It doesn’t replace Wyatt or all my lost friends. There’s a certain satisfaction, though, that comes from knowing Other Gary is never going to hurt anyone ever again.”

  “That’s justice, not vengeance,” Gabrielle said.

  “Is it?” Amanda sighed. “Either way, I’m not sure I shouldn’t be shutting down this party and taking all of your newfound friends into custody.”

  “Don’t be a party pooper,” I said, taking a champagne glass from a guy dressed like me. “Besides, there’s plenty more days for me to be your archnemesis. I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Mister Inventor.”

  “He made his choice,” Amanda said. “He chose poorly.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Gabrielle said. “Gary, I want you to know I owe you more than I could ever possibly repay.”

  “You mean for screwing up and getting you imprisoned for five years as the world’s prettiest reactor?”

  Gabrielle shook her head. “For helping me bring down my father’s murderers. You also suffered the same sort of imprisonment.”

  “Well don’t tell anyone else I did the right thing,” I said, smiling sadly. “Especially not in this crowd. So, what are you going to do now? Try to sort out the Society of Superheroes?”

  “Yes,” Gabrielle said. She took a deep breath. “But I’m honestly of the mind that I should be prepared for the worst. I’m going to be recruiting other heroes to work for a return of democracy to the United States and other nations that have been taken over. It’s not just limited to the USA anymore. The United Nations has granted the Society of Superheroes its own place on the Security Council with expanded authority. I—”

  “Good luck with that,” I said. “If you need anything, I’m there for you.”

  “You could be part of my Shadow Army,” Gabrielle said. “You, Mandy, and Amanda could all be heroes who save the world’s freedom.”

  “I have my own plans,” I said.

  “OK,” Gabrielle said, surprised by the sharpness of my reply.

  I gave her a kiss on the cheek and continued to look for Mandy.

  “I’m having fun!” Amanda said, calling back after me.

  “Check out the Puma! You and he could totally get a villain-hero thing going!” I called back to her.

  Amanda rolled her eyes before drinking down her champagne.

  “I know what you’re going to say, Cloak. I should have accepted that offer of redemption. I’m not going to have many . . .” I trailed off, remembering he was gone. “Goddammit.”

  I’d lost my father five years ago, right before the whole business with President Omega.

  Now I’d lost my second father.

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Lancel, but I hope you’re happy wherever you are. I was never a very good student, and you were kind of a shit teacher. However, you were someone who enriched my life an
d . . . I’m going to miss you. Oh, and if Kerri figures out how to summon your ghost, I’m totally rebinding you even if you’re happy in Heaven. Sorry.”

  Cloak didn’t answer.

  I suppressed my tears and continued to look for Mandy. I found her in one of the bedrooms, talking with Selena the Black Witch. The Red Schoolgirl was blackout drunk on the bed, snoring loudly next to three empty bottles of wine from the cellar. Mandy and Selena were having a comfortable chat, apparently talking about politics and new angry girl bands. Their version of flirting with the ex, I suppose.

  “Hey you two,” I said. “What am I missing?”

  “Selena is trying to persuade me to join the Shadow Army,” Mandy said. “I said no.”

  “Gabrielle tried the same for me,” I said. “I think we can agree that saving the world is not our problem. We’ve done more than enough.”

  “Really?” Selena said. “Because I think you’d want allies to deal with any future threats.”

  “I can deal with whatever comes our way,” I said. “Mandy can too.”

  “I wouldn’t overestimate yourself, Gary,” Selena said. “On a scale of one to ten in terms of supervillain power, you’re solidly a five. You got lucky with Zul-Barbas and President Omega. Other Gary you were uniquely qualified to deal with, but even then, he handed you your ass more times than you did. It’s just he wasn’t playing for keeps. There are plenty of other supervillains who will kill you without hesitation. Most superheroes will join them if they ever find out a version of you killed Ultragod.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, deciding not to mention that Death had restored my powers and I was more like a seven or eight now. “I’m tenth level while the others are Epic, I get it. Wait, does D&D even use Epic Levels anymore? I stopped paying attention after Third Edition.”

  Selena rolled her eyes. “Do you even know how many dangers are still out there?”

  “I’d wager less than there were before Other Gary brainwashed or murdered them all,” I said. “I’m more concerned about the heroes.”

  “You shouldn’t be,” Selena said, her gaze burrowing into me. “Sovi-Ape was the only archvillain captured and reformed by Merciful’s agents. The rest of them, monsters like Tom Terror and the Council of Dark Lords, are all still out there. They’ve just been lying low. The Thran and Tsavong Empires are also due for another invasion attempt, except our biggest guns are either dead or retired. That’s not even counting Entropicus and his Armies of Darkness. We don’t have the Nightwalker or Ultragod to watch us anymore.”

  “I think Ultragoddess and Nightwoman,” I corrected myself on Amanda’s codename, “will handle things just fine.”

  Selena frowned. “I hope you’re right.”

  Mandy’s reticence surprised me but shouldn’t have. She’d made it clear we were a double act. I was just surprised she hadn’t asked me; I would have said yes then. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow my wife.”

  “As you wish,” Selena said, looking unhappy.

  Mandy followed me to our bedroom, which was, thankfully, absent of any supervillains. Mostly because I’d warded the place to teleport any interlopers to Istanbul. My magic was significantly stronger in the mansion than elsewhere.

  “What now?” Mandy asked.

  “My evil plan.” I walked over to a library bookshelf in the room and pulled out the copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince. The bookshelf opened to a long staircase leading down to the Merciless Dungeon beneath the mansion. I’d installed it during my time as a successful supervillain, only to add some bits and pieces with my brief omnipotence. “We managed to empty a large amount of Other Gary’s liquid assets into my accounts. Thank you for that, by the way. I don’t know how you pulled that off.”

  “I guessed Other Gary’s passwords would be like yours. Which meant they were variants on my name, Cindy’s name, Gabrielle’s name, the word password, your niece’s birthday, your brother’s birthday, and swordfish. Oh, and the one for his infonet master-control was ADMIN.”

  I paused. “I need to change all my passwords, don’t I?”

  “Yes,” Mandy said. “Except I already changed them.”

  I smirked. “Well, I did some digging before I resurrected Diabloman. Plenty of people let me access stuff they shouldn’t have when I put on a white hooded robe instead of my usual one. I’ve got a list of all of Gary’s secret treasure troves and the Society’s other underground prisons. Places where he’s stored stolen artifacts, technology, and wealth that couldn’t be or wasn’t returned to its original owners. It’s a veritable Wayland of goods.”

  “You mean Weyland-Yutani from the Alien movies or the Emperor’s storehouse from the Thrawn Trilogy?”

  “The latter,” I said, loving how simultaneously geeky and cool my wife could be. “I should have just said Nazi gold. Whatever the case, we can build ourselves an army from the grateful people within as well as arm ourselves with weapons more powerful than any force on Earth. There were magical books, wands, and woozits alongside technology that would make President Omega blush.”

  “To what end?” Mandy said.

  Walking down the steps into the Merciless Dungeon, I saw a massive supervillain’s lair with computers, weapons, my time machine, and the Merciless Falcon. A large bronze statue of me holding a globe in each hand overlooked the place. There was also the world’s largest twenty-sided die, which was the pride of my collection of stolen knickknacks like the Staff of Ra and my pickled Hitler heads. My doppelgänger had stored all my loot here, as if in homage to his conquest of me. There was even the hypno-coin he’d used to defeat me at President Omega’s bunker. I bet he wished he’d taken that with him to the reservoir.

  “To give me enough oomph to take advantage of the power vacuum in Merciful’s organization. The majority of his minions were brainwashed, so I can free the ones likely to ally with me and leave the ones who were assholes alone. I figure I can get most, maybe seventy percent, of his stuff as compensation for all the trouble he’s caused me. That will be the end of Phase Two in my not entirely completed master plan,” I said, sitting down in front of a giant computer screen and keyboard. “It’s time we got serious about taking over the world. We’ve got two to conquer now. If you’re in?”

  Mandy looked up at the screen as I brought up images of the two planet Earths in orbit of the Sun. In her eyes, I saw the look of a woman who’d seen just what could happen to an earth that wasn’t adequately protected by superheroes. Mandy had borne witness to the destruction of everyone she’d loved twice and been tortured alongside me in Undertown. Despite my best efforts, she’d never be the optimistic idealistic person she was before. I regretted that, but I was also happy? to have someone as twisted as me by my side. We could carry each other’s pain right to the White House and beyond.

  “I’m in.”

  I regretted I wouldn’t be able to be the hero Cloak wanted me to be. The heroes weren’t playing by the rules anymore, though, so I had to make some new ones. I was going to be the villain the world needed, not the one it wanted.

  I hoped Lancel could forgive me that.

  An Excerpt from

  Agent G: Infiltrator by C. T. Phipps – On Sale Now

  Chapter One

  I was sitting in the driver’s seat of a 2010 Mercedes Benz S-Klasse, staring at a small handheld computer screen currently tapped into the security feed of the hotel whose parking lot I was located in. It was a warm summer night in Chicago, rare for this city, and I was feeling the heat in my pressed black suit. I was dressed in a chauffer’s outfit and waiting for a man to come out so I could kill him.

  The target, Marshall Redmond, was fifty-two, Caucasian, a closeted bisexual, possessed a net worth of sixty-two million dollars, and was currently attending a fundraiser for the Mayor of Chicago. The fat blond man was sitting at the table in the front of the ballroom with his deeply unhappy-looking spouse sitting beside him. The Society hadn’t told me why someone was paying to have him killed.

  Despite th
e fact we weren’t supposed to pry into our subject’s affairs, it was a game for Numbers to try and deduce the reason for why someone wanted someone else to die. Usually, it was depressingly simple: a subject was having an affair and their spouse was a client. They were witnesses to a crime which could bring an end to a multimillionaire’s business, they were a political activist working for some groups’ rights, they were a political activist working against another groups’ (many times the same group), or they had made the mistake of betraying their employer in some way.

  Marshall Redmond was a terrorist. Honestly, that had caught me off guard. People weren’t complex. Nine times out of ten, they were exactly what they appeared to be. In Redmond’s case, I would have thought embezzlement or stock fraud or donating to the wrong politician was the reason a client wanted him dead. Terrorism was an entirely different sort of crime than the kind of one people like Redmond committed. He was more the white-collar Ponzi scheme sort of fellow. Those kinds of criminals could destroy equal amounts of lives but the terrorists tended to have worse publicity.

  It made me curious.

  Your curiosity will get you killed, my mentor would always say. R had been an awful human being, even by my standards, but he’d known his stuff. The fact he’d managed to live to Reassignment proved that. Either way, he wasn’t here now and that meant I could handle the matter as I wanted.

  Waiting twenty-minutes for them to arrive, I saw Redmond and his wife part ways and move to their separate cars. Redmond and his bodyguard moved toward this car, the former looking distressed with the latter. Redmond’s bodyguard was a tall, thirty-two, muscular black man named Charles Dulcimer.

  Dulcimer was an ex-Navy Seal who had done contracts for Universiti and was currently working for the world’s largest security corporation. He was looking violently ill and seconds later, threw up on Redmond’s shoes.

  “Tsk-tsk-tsk,” I said, shaking my head, adjusting the side view mirror. “You should always watch what you eat, Charles. You never know what someone might have slipped into it.”