My brother's murder.
My revenge.
Lost friends.
One consequence of this was the fact I often had dreams. Sometimes awake, most times asleep. These dreams which took me out of my head to the past. Psychotherapists said I just had an incredibly vivid imagination but I sometimes wondered if it wasn't something more. Either way, I'd been drugged by the Ice Cream Man and very possibly was going to die while unconscious. If I survived, it would only be because the Ice Cream Man was known to draw out his murders in order to save his victims’ pain.
Victims which now included Mandy.
Crap.
Floating through the endless void of my subconscious I found myself thinking back to the days which had set me on my current path. I didn't think of anytime in specific but just let my impulses drown me in a sea of memories.
There was comfort in those.
One of those memories took me to around two o'clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday of the year before my marriage to Mandy. I wasn't dating her yet, was in a committed relationship already, and was twenty-four and pursuing my masters in Unusual Criminology.
Staring out the window of a finely appointed office, I took in the sights of Falconcrest City University and its myriad Gothic buildings with thousands of students scurrying about. The office behind me had hundreds of psychological, mystical, and philosophical textbooks with oddball Eastern statues and mandalas. There was also a map on the wall of Atlantis, the mythical one versus the one which hosted the Summer Olympics last year.
I was undergoing therapy with one of my professors.
Which was probably a conflict of interests.
“So, your brother was the supervillain Stingray and killed by the antihero vigilante Shoot-Em-Up, yes?” Doctor Thule said, sitting in his chair with his notepad.
Doctor Thaddeus Thule was an elegant Austrian man in his mid-fifties with a body-builder's physique hidden underneath his custom-tailored pin-striped suit, thin square reflective glasses, and curly black beard. Both hands were covered in rings bearing mystical symbols. I've often described him as what would happen if you shaved Arnold Schwarzenegger bald, upped his IQ to 180, and tried to pass him off as an occult healer.
Doctor Thule was a double-holder of P.H.D's in both Psychology as well as Unusual Criminology. He was the key attraction of Falconcrest City University to serious students of both. Thaddeus had invented numerous techniques both magical and science-based for the treatment of sick minds with a specialty in the psychosis of supervillains. He also offered free psychological therapy to his students and quite a few of us had taken up his offer of it.
Later, of course, it would be discovered Doctor Thule was an agent of P.H.A.N.T.O.M and charged with locating extreme personalities with a gift for planning. Called the Super-Villain Maker, he crafted forty-two troubled souls into costumed criminals and terrorists for the sole purpose of distracting superheroes from his employer's evil schemes. Needless to say, the University's reputation took a serious hit after the Nightwalker exposed him.
Oh, and by the way, he had nothing to do with my decision to become a supervillain. I chose to do that before I met him.
“We've covered that, Doc, yes,” I said, looking back.
“How did that make you feel?” Doctor Thule asked, his voice vaguely mesmerizing.
“Angry,” I said, growling. “How do you think it made me feel?”
“And at fourteen you hunted him down and killed him,” Doctor Thule said.
I did a double take. “What did you say?”
“I said that must have been troubling for a boy your age,” Doctor Thule replied, smiling.
I blinked. “Yeah, yeah it was.”
“Do you think this resulted in your obsession with following in your brothers footsteps?” Doctor Thule asked.
“I wouldn't call it an obsession,” I said, sighing. “My brother wasn't a monster. He never killed anyone in his entire career. Sure, people died when he tried to take over Atlantis and during heists but that wasn't his fault.”
“Of course it wasn't,” Doctor Thule said. “I think your brother would be proud of your decision to do so.”
I looked at him. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” Doctor Thule said, putting his hand over his heart.
I wasn't so sure and even if I was sure, I wasn't so sure I was willing to do it anymore. Killing Shoot-Em-Up hadn't been enough to calm the raging beast inside me. I'd spent my high school years constantly getting into fights, trouble, and only pulled myself out of a downward spiral because I thought I might have a chance of redeeming my brother's legacy.
Lately, the anger wasn't there anymore, though. I'd started to think about other ways I could honor Keith. Had he just been a supervillain? No, he'd been other things. My brother had been a family man and a provider. I wanted a family for myself. For the first time, in a long time, I was starting to think maybe I could lay his ghosts to rest.
That was when I saw a yellow and gold streak across the sky.
Ultragoddess.
Seconds later, there was a knocking on the professor's door. Checking my cellphone, I saw it was time for my lunch date with Gabrielle Anders. “Oh sorry, I got lost in my reminiscing.”
Professor Thule looked annoyed. “A pity since I think you were close to a breakthrough. You've been backsliding a lot and losing your focus. Too many distractions, I think, from other quarters.” His gaze moved to the door. “But I'm sure we can discuss your justifiable antipathy to superheroes next week. Ja?”
“Ja,” I said, grimacing for reasons I didn't entire comprehend. “Heroes are a courageous and rational lot and all that.” I turned to the door. “I'll be right out, Gabrielle!”
I knew it was her.
I could feel her presence.
“Awesome!” Gabrielle said, cheerfully popping her head through the door. “Hi, Professor Thule.”
Gabrielle Anders was a beautiful Afro-Hispanic woman with beautiful brown eyes, olive-skin, and a smile which could burn away the dark in a man's heart. Today, she was wearing her hair in a ponytail and had a pair of upside-down horseshoe earrings. On her face were a pair of surprisingly thick glasses which, really, should have been smaller given today's fashions.
I loved her, though, and found every part of her sexy.
“Hello, Ms. Anders,” Professor Thule said, sounding not at all pleased to have her around.
Professor Thule had tried to get her into one of his therapy courses but she'd politely refused on multiple occasions as well as rejected his attempts to get her to private studies. Frankly, sometimes I wondered if she was really serious about Unusual Criminology.
Professor got up and walked to a nearby shelf before removing a black leather book off the shelf and handing it to me. “We'll discuss your situation in-depth once we're in private again. In the meantime, I suggest you read this book. It will provide, I suspect, fascinating insights into your situation.”
I read the title: The Absence of Mercy by Doctor Isaac Bedlam.
I tapped the title of the book. “This is the book by the Jewish supervillain who stalked and murdered a bunch of anti-Semites in the 1920s and 30s. The one Fritz Lang did a bunch of films on.”
Professor Thule smiled. “An interesting figure for discussing the situational nature of ethics.”
He stared into my eyes.
I stared back, then blinked, a little uncomfortable. “Uh, Professor, are you okay?”
Professor Thule frowned, confused, and looked over Gabrielle who was giving him a dirty look.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” the Professor patted me on the shoulder. “Go, play.”
“Okay,” I said, putting the book into my backpack then heading to the door to join Gabrielle.
Gabrielle shut the door behind me. She was wearing a white sweater over a golden dress. “I do not like that creep.”
Gabrielle looked at me in disbelief. “He's named Professor Thule.”
“Hey, he can't help his
parents’ last name,” I said, shrugging. I then gave her a long kiss on the lips.
Gabrielle smiled, adjusting her glasses. “Are you ready to meet my father?”
“I'm not sure rescuing dolphins in Japan is a good family-bonding exercise,” I said, grimacing. “Still, what's the worst he could do?”
“Come in-between our relationship, disown me, and ruin a lifetime of loving father-daughter relationship?”
I gave her an annoyed look. “You are cruel.”
“Just be nice,” Gabrielle said, smiling.
“You still haven't introduced me to your mother,” I said, starting to walk to the elevators.
“That's because she's Polly Pratchett.”
“Ha-ha,” I said, chuckling. “Ultragod's girlfriend? Please. But if you don't want to talk about her, that's fine.”
“I'll introduce you after I reveal all my secrets,” Gabrielle said, adjusting her glasses. “You know, I'm not used to relationships lasting this long.”
“Neither am I,” I said.
“Yeah,” Gabrielle said, wrinkling her nose. “Some of us more than others. Did you have to sleep with Jessica and Wendy?” They were Gabrielle's best friends at college.
I grimaced. I'd had a lot of one-night or multiple one-night 'relationships' before I'd met someone who was really worth fighting for. “That was before I met you!”
“A likely excuse!” Gabrielle said, rolling her eyes then bursting out laughing. I'd actually met Gabrielle through Wendy, who was helping her at the school paper where Ms. Anders was journalist. “I'm in this for the long haul, though.”
“Me too.” I took her hand. I decided after this trip, I'd propose to her.
The memory faded away and I was once more in the void of unconsciousness. Cloak, as a disembodied voice, was there with me.
“You were very blessed to have two kind, generous women to love you,” Cloak said. “Most men do not even get one such opportunity.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice echoing through the darkness. “It didn't work out between me and Gabrielle and I won't lie and say I haven't played the 'What If' game.”
Moses Anders had warmed to me, eventually, even if I didn't realize he was Ultragod until years later. When we got back, though, I'd been kidnapped by murderous serial-killer the Cackler. He'd deduced Gabrielle was Ultragoddess and decided to target the person she loved the most. Gabrielle had come within inches of killing him while rescuing me. Later that week, she'd confessed her true identity to me and that she couldn't risk putting me in danger. I'd tried to fight for our relationship but she'd rather have me alive and away from her than hold me in her arms as I bled to death.
Then she'd erased my memory of her identity and implanted a new memory of our breakup. I'd only found out the truth on the moon.
I would never get over that.
“I sensed you wanted children,” Cloak said. “Why did you and Mandy never have them?”
That brought back its own memories.
It was a year after my marriage to Mandy and things were going well in my life. I admit, we'd probably gotten married a little too soon given we'd only known each other a couple of months. We'd both been recovering from badly-ended relationships but we were in love and I was determined to change for her benefit. I had cast aside my dreams of being a supervillain and embraced my new life as Gary Karkofsky, bank teller.
Yeah, I was going crazy but I could live with it.
I had her.
It was early in the morning and we were gathered around the kitchen table. Our rescue dogs, Galadriel and Arwen, were gathered at our feet while I was making breakfast for my wife. She was wearing a shirt with Princess Leia on it and looking sleepless. She was still getting used to my frequent bouts of nightmares, one of the reasons why I was making her this. Also, I wanted to butter her up for the conversation.
“So, Mandy—” I started to say, bringing her a second plate of made-from-scratch waffles.
“Yes?” Mandy said, obviously suspecting I wanted to discuss something.
“Kids,” I said, laying the plates down.
Mandy looked up, blinking. She put down her fork. “Not hungry.”
I grimaced. “Probably should have discussed that before we got married.”
“Yeah,” Mandy said, giving a face equivalent to being punched in the gut.
“What are your thoughts?” I asked, plopping down into my chair across from her.
Mandy looked at me. “My family is a ticking time bomb of heart-disease, diabetes, Alzheimers, and Parkinsons. Yours also has quite a few problems.”
“Medicine is very good at treating those thanks to the efforts of Red Crescent, Red Cross, and the rest of the Parahuman-Medics.” They were superheroes who didn't fight crime and God bless them for it.
Mandy picked up her fork again and tapped the waffles a few times. “There's also the fact your sister is a born superhuman and your niece. My uncle was a born superhuman. He could see into microscopic spectrums. That means we both have the recessive super-gene.”
I stared at her. “You're superphobic?”
“No!” Mandy said, opening her mouth in horror. “I mean, any children of ours who inherit such powers would be subject to discrimination and have to go to—”
I stared at her, not at all pleased at the way she was choosing to handle this. “Given I grew up with plenty of children who had superpowers and were glad to be alive, including close family, you should probably just admit you don't want to have kids.”
Mandy looked down, a guilty expression on her face. “No, I don't.”
“Is it because you don't want to go through the process?” I asked, hoping that was the case. “If so, there are countless children out there who need homes of a multitude of races.”
I'd actually been hoping to adopt at least one or two children in addition to any she wanted to have. Hopefully, super-ones. I had experience with super-children thanks to my kid sister and babysitting my niece. There was a lot I could do to help them through the worst of their adjustment period.
“Children, are just...not my thing,” Mandy said, shrugging. “I'm just not the mothering type.”
I was silent after that.
“Is this a problem?” Mandy asked, looking at me. I could tell she was worried our marriage would suffer.
If not disintegrate.
“No,” I said, lying. “It's not a big deal at all. I'll just move on.”
And I did.
But I would still sometimes dream of a family of my own.
“I see,” Cloak said, his voice in my mind as those memories faded away. “How mundane.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling myself slowly wake up.
It was time to face the Ice Cream Man.
Chapter Seven
Where I Meet Falconcrest City’s Newest Hero
Waking up, my head hurting like someone had hit it with a hammer repeatedly, I contemplated how knock-out gas could affect someone intangible. “Okay, that's complete horse-shit. I was intangible, there's no way that gas should have entered my lungs. It should have just passed through.”
“Are you questioning the rules of magic with science?” Cloak asked, sounding like he’d been down this road before.
“It's not a question of magic versus science. It’s a simple fact of logic.”
“Then how do you breathe when you're tangible?” Cloak pointed out.
Thinking about that, I frowned. “You suck.”
“This is partially my fault, I admit,” Cloak said. “I was the Nightwalker for eighty years. That gave villains a very long time to field test their various means of getting past my various powers. Gas was one of my more well-known vulnerabilities.”
“So, because you were one of the world's best superheroes, I'm shit out of luck?” I thought back at him.
“No one ever said being a superhero was easy.”
“Thankfully, I’m not a superhero.”
“So you keep insisting.”
It took
a second for my eyes to adjust to the spotlight being shined on me. I had a headache and it only took me a second to realize why, I was suspended upside down. All of the blood in my body had probably rushed to my head an hour ago. Furthermore, my hands were tied behind my back.
On the stage in front of us was some sort of weird high-tech pylon with a crystal that seemed out of place in the opera house. It was plugged into the stage electrical grid and making all sorts of weird noises.
“An M-Wave suppression field inhibitor based on 40th century technology,” Cloak muttered. “Dammit.”
“A what in the who now?” I asked.
“A magic suppression device,” Cloak said. “Very rare. He must have gotten it from one of the higher-tech villains in the city. Possibly the Chillingsworths or Doctor Dinosaur.”
I frowned and tried to turn insubstantial. Nothing. That was going to make things…difficult.
The Ice Cream Man, himself, was eating a hot fudge sundae in front of us with an eyeball and finger inside it. His smell was somewhat disguised with a cologne which smelled of chocolate, sprinkles, and strawberries. Except, now it just made me smell ice cream then rotting corpses then ice cream again, making the two smells co-exist. A remote resembling a television one was attached to his belt and I assumed that was related to my current condition of powerlessness.
Turning my head, I saw Cindy, Diabloman, Angel Eyes, and Mandy. They were similarly suspended and tied up. There was a hissing noise coming from below my head and looking down, I saw a gigantic cauldron of green acid bubbling beneath us. Turning up, I saw a weird mechanism of locks and chains which seemed to lower us all if any of us escaped. The old Prisoners Dilemma, except this one was designed around the idea they would want to protect each other. While it would probably work on the Nightwalker or most civilians, I wasn’t sure it would be so effective in our rather villainously-inclined group. We were still on Angel Eyes’ stage, only the Ice Cream Man had cleaned off his miniature house and covered us with a set of spotlights before a red curtain. Apparently, our execution via death-trap was going to be part of a show. A show for one since I didn’t see anyone but the mutilated remains of Angel Eyes’ gang in the audience.
The Games of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 2) Page 6