Supervillainess (Part One)

by Lizzy Ford

“There are tons of shampoos and shower gels in the guest bathroom, too.”

  “She buys them then uses them for two days and buys more,” Gary complained.

  “I’ll eventually use them! I alternate!” she retorted.

  “Whatever.” He rolled his eyes with a smile. “We’re grilling out on the patio for dinner. Hamburgers okay?”

  “I’m vegetarian,” Kimber replied.

  “So am I!” Anna said. “Don’t worry. I have a killer recipe for grilled veggies. I’ve got you covered.”

  Kimber glanced between the happy nurses. “You have no idea how grateful I am,” he said with more feeling than he intended. “I promise to pay you back for everything.”

  “No worries,” Gary said. “We’ll leave you alone to settle in. Dinner in an hour?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “If you need us to look at your head, just let one of us know. Anna is a nurse practioner.”

  Kimber nodded.

  The couple exited and closed the door behind them. Kimber’s gaze lingered on the door, and he found himself almost smiling, despite the uncertainty of his feelings. He had missed friendship far more than he thought he would.

  The quiet, clean, small guestroom was an oasis from the nightmare his life was rapidly becoming. He changed out of his damp clothing and took a hot shower before digging through Gary’s clothing for a pair of sweatpants and long t-shirt. He flipped on the television to help distract his thoughts.

  Returning to the bathroom, once the mirror had de-fogged, he shifted to see the bandage on the back of his head. Kimber peeled it off, prepared to assess the damage and grateful the local anesthesia had managed to keep the pain numbed for a few hours. After his talk with General Savage, he didn’t feel up to dealing with pain yet.

  Setting the used bandage down, he leaned forward with a frown.

  The hair around the wound had been shaved. The wound itself was nothing more than a scar.

  Kimber touched it gently. The stitches he had felt earlier were gone, leaving behind a ridge of scar tissue where none had been before.

  It was the second time in as many days where his wound had disappeared.

  “Weird,” he breathed. He straightened and tossed the bandage, not sure what to think of the wound that wasn’t there. It wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened the past two weeks, so he shook his head and returned to his temporary bedroom to rest before dinner.

  The news was on, and he found himself watching for any mention of Keladry. The local station was reporting on several more explosions that rocked the city at various times during the past twenty four hours, including those he was aware of and about four more he hadn’t heard about. Jermaine was blamed for two and Keladry for the remaining two. Their involvement reaffirmed his conviction not to have anything to do with either.

  The city was being terrorized by the Savages. The same question he’d been wrestling with since shortly after arriving to the city circulated through his mind. Why didn’t any of the five million residents of the metro area try to stop the Savage family?

  He reached for the remote to change the channel, tired of being frustrated by the twins, when his attention was caught by the ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

  Hero doctor applies for the position of Sand City superhero. More at 10.

  Kimber’s brow furrowed. He’d been referred to as the hero doctor in the newspapers, but he hadn’t applied to anyone for anything.

  “Please let that be someone else,” he growled and clicked the television off.

  Unease slid through him. He rose and stretched his stiff body, trying to relieve the wired tension he’d experienced since losing his apartment.

  A tap at the door distracted him from his light calisthenics.

  “Hey, Doc,” Gary said, cracking the door open.

  “It’s Kimber,” he replied with a smile. “You took me in like a stray. It’s only right for you to call me by my first name.”

  “Alrighty. Hey, Kimber.” Gary smiled. He slid into the room and closed the door behind him. “You have a visitor.”

  Kimber’s smile faded. “Visitor?”

  “Think you can get her to autograph my cards?” Gary whispered and handed him a set of what appeared to be five baseball cards. Kimber peered at them more closely. Each of the cards depicted beautiful Keladry Savage in a different pose and attire.

  Fuck. Kimber accepted them numbly. The moment he thought he was done with the Savages, one of them pulled him back into their twisted web. Hardening himself for the confrontation to come, he lifted his gaze to meet Gary’s eyes.

  “I can’t believe you know her!” The nurse was grinning, excitement on his features. “But I guess it makes sense.”

  “Not to me,” Kimber replied.

  “You’re going to be a superhero. Of course you know her.”

  “How … oh. The news.”

  Gary nodded. “Ask her if she’ll make them out to Gary,” he added. “Is that cool? Do you think she’ll mind?”

  “I’ll ask,” Kimber forced himself to say, not about to insult his host.

  Gary opened the door and left, moving into the hallway. His expression turned adoring as he smiled wildly and stared at the leather-clad frame of Keladry in the hallway.

  Kimber was far less pleased to see her. He motioned for her to enter and closed the door, irritated yet unable to stop his eyes from traveling down her body. She carried the backpack he had left in the hospital hallway with Igor before confronting her brother. With some relief, he realized his wallet was in there. He wouldn’t have to wait weeks to recreate his identity or intrude into Gary’s life by staying too long.

  “This is an improvement,” she said with a look around the room.

  “What do you want?” he demanded quietly.

  Keladry set down his backpack on the bed before facing him. “We lost track of you for almost an entire day.”

  He waited.

  She gazed at him expectantly.

  “It’s none of your business where I was,” he said finally. He held out the cards to her.

  She snatched them and pulled a pen from her tool belt. “What’s his name?”

  “Gary.”

  He watched her sign the cards and place them on the dresser. The air between them held a familiar tension, one he wanted to assume was purely physical attraction. It wasn’t possible to be immune to someone as gorgeous as Keladry, until she murdered someone in front of him. That tended to change his outlook of the beauty.

  “You didn’t come here for autographs,” he said.

  “I came to make sure you’re safe.”

  Kimber blinked, not expecting the response. “Because suddenly you care about something other than becoming a supervillain?”

  Keladry gazed up at him. She pulled something from a pocket and handed it to him.

  He accepted the folded up paper and opened it.

  Superhero Application

  She had completed most of the fields on the form, and his jaw went slack as he read the titles of each section. Aside from basic biographical details, the form asked for such information as Superpower(s) Claimed; Weaknesses; and Arch-nemesis(es)

  Keladry had identified his superpower as the ability to block a villain’s powers, his weaknesses as caring too much for everyone (even strangers), and enemies as the entire Savage family.

  “Is this real?” he asked, lowering the paper.

  She nodded. “Until your application is approved or denied by the city commissioner and Supervillain Council, you’re provided special privileges that should help you stay alive the next time my brother comes looking for you.”

  “Aside from the bizarre factor of applying to become a superhero, you did this to protect me?” he asked, startled.

  It was moments like this, when she seemed almost kind, that he forgot how many people she had murdered before his eyes. In her own way, Keladry sometimes tried to do good, or more accurately, to be less evil.

  “I
didn’t know the answer to the last question,” she said. It was the first time she hadn’t been direct with him.

  Kimber studied her briefly and read the question whose answer was blank.

  “Source of Superpowers,” he read aloud. “Check all that apply.” The options included: radioactivity, bitten by wild animal/insect, nuclear explosion, and other (please explain).

  It was the craziest application he’d ever seen. If not for Keladry’s grave expression, he would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. General Savage’s questions made more sense now that Kimber understood why the supervillain suspected he wanted to become a superhero.

  “A drug overdose seems mild compared to a nuclear incident.” Hearing his words, he cursed himself silently.

  “Drugs,” she repeated, a light going off in her face. “Morphine. That’s why you kept staring at the bottle under the bed.”

  Kimber turned away. “Forget I said it.”

  “It all makes sense now. You became addicted after your father’s accident. It ruined your career, almost killed you, and you moved here.”

  He tensed, hating to hear the truth aloud. Rehab had been rough enough, when he’d been faced with his mental frailty and failure at life daily. For reasons he couldn’t identify, he hadn’t wanted Keladry to know and definitely didn’t want her to judge him for it.

  Why did he care at all what she thought?

  “You keep the morphine to torture yourself, right? Or maybe, one day you plan on suicide?” she pressed.

  “Stop, Keladry. I don’t want to talk to you about this!”

  “Why not?”

  His chest felt tight, and he crumpled the application in his hand.

  “It’ll take a month for everyone to evaluate your application,” she said when he didn’t speak. “The city favors you. It should be approved easily.”

  “This is ridiculous. I’m no hero.”

  “Look at how many people you saved.”

  “They were only in danger because of me!” He lifted the form and ripped it into pieces then held it out to her. “You have made my life a living hell, Keladry. It stops now. Withdraw the application or I will.”

  She accepted it. A flare of defiance was in her eyes. “No. I won’t withdraw it, and you wouldn’t know who to talk to in order to do it yourself.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why does your family keep interfering in my life?” he demanded.

  “I. Admire. You.” The statement was hostile and short, as if she despised him for forcing her to say it.

  Kimber’s eyebrows went up. “You torture me, because you admire me?”

  “If I were torturing you, you’d be in the dungeon of my lair,” she pointed out. “This protects you against my father and brother.” She lifted the application. Keladry looked away, and it was then Kimber noticed her discomfort, bordering on uncertainty.

  “You have been protecting me in your own way,” he said slowly, circling a new instinct. “I can never condone the body count or your methods, but you … uh, try, I guess. You helped the residents of my apartment building, didn’t you?”

  “Help is a strong word,” she objected.

  “And you did it because I suggested it,” he said, ignoring her. “Were you also the one who texted me to evacuate the ER?”

  Keladry shrugged.

  “And now this.” He motioned to the superhero application. A strange sense was floating through him, a combination of surprise and disbelief. “You did these things for me, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know why I did them.”

  He waited for more. She supplied no other explanation.

  The two of them scrutinized one another, the tension between them more charged than before. Kimber didn’t know what to think or why it surprised him to the extent it did when he considered there was a part of the supervillainess-in-training that seemed very good.

  “I keep the pills as a reminder of what I never again want to become,” he said finally in the heavy silence. “Every day, I’m tempted by them, and every day, I remember how it felt to tear my life apart and not be able to stop myself from doing it.” The truth was difficult to admit, and he waited for her reaction.

  Keladry listened, head tilted, as if she were attempting to use her alleged superpower. “I had a chance to kill my brother and couldn’t do it,” she said. “But I did blow up his nuclear arsenal and forty of his special force ninjas.”

  A smile tugged up the corner of Kimber’s lips. Beneath her black outfits and murderous tendencies, Keladry was a woman as damaged and vulnerable to her world as he was to his. More importantly, she was trying to relate to him in her own unique, twisted way.

  Rather than react as he had before, whenever she said something distinctly villainous, he chose his words carefully. “We’ve both been through a lot. But I don’t think I’m meant to be a superhero, as much as I appreciate your faith in me.”

  “Your father was one,” she replied. “Maybe it runs in your family.”

  “He told my stepmother to ask me about you the other day,” Kimber said with a shake of his head.

  Keladry’s smile was mischievous. “I gave him a pass, since I was too weak to murder him. Next time, though, he won’t be as lucky. Warn him accordingly.”

  “I don’t know what happened on that roof. I mean this with what respect I can muster, but I don’t want you anywhere near him ever again.”

  “Just doing my job as a supervillain.”

  Silence fell once more. Kimber’s newfound insight left his mind racing as he tried to put together a picture of who Keladry really was. Igor seemed to think she was a good supervillain. Although she had just admitted to murdering another forty people, Kimber found himself more interested in the idea she couldn’t hurt her brother. She was capable of love in some regard.

  How could anyone be such an enigma?

  Or was he finally drinking the Sand City Kool-Aid and becoming infatuated with a certain supervillainess-in-training?

  Keladry’s phone buzzed, ending the long moment where they looked too long at one another. She checked it quickly.

  “I’d avoid the bar district tonight,” she advised.

  When she slid into villain mode, Kimber became uncomfortable. “Have you considered a different approach? One that doesn’t involve hurting so many people?”

  “Don’t need to. It’s not like there’s a superhero in town who will stop me.” She winked and tucked the phone away. “Besides, it’s Tuesday night. Collateral damage will be minimal.”

  Someone needed to stop her and her family. That’s not me, he thought. I’m no hero.

  Was this the same denial that went through the heads of the other millions of people in the metro area? Someone should do something – but not me? Was this how the entire city ended up in the stranglehold of the Savages?

  “If there were a superhero in town, wouldn’t that make you enemies with him or her?” he asked.

  “Mortal enemies, sworn to take each other down.”

  “And you want me to become that person?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” A flicker of genuine confusion crossed her features. “See ya around, Doc.” She breezed by him to the door.

  “If Igor is still stalking me, tell him to stop,” he said firmly.

  “Nope.” She strode out.

  Kimber remained where he was. For a tiny moment, he had believed he had a grip on who she was and what their tepid relationship status was. Not quite friends – but potential to become something. When he took a larger view of the situation, he grew perplexed once more. She was acting in contradictory ways, protecting him now only to try to destroy him if his application was approved.

  Not that it would be. Even if it were, he’d refuse such a position. He was too flawed, too undeserving, to be the kind of superheroes he saw in movies.

  She had murdered forty eight people that he knew of and was getting ready to wreak havoc in the bar district. Why the fuck was he considering their friendship potential,
when it was clear she was every bit the supervillainess she wanted to be?

  He stood, disturbed by the duality of his own thoughts. No amount of collateral damage was acceptable in his mind, but … was he really the only person in Sand City willing to talk some sense into her or stop her from hurting anyone?

  No. I’m not that guy.

  Except there was no one else willing to step forward.

  Doubt and anger raged a silent war within his mind, and he allowed himself to dwell on the possibility Keladry had been correct about his pity party. He pulled on a sweatshirt and dug his phone from his backpack. Kimber found himself reaching for the doorknob to his room, walking down the hall, and – with some awkwardness – asking Gary for a pair of shoes and to take him to the bar district.

  He went through the motions, telling himself he wasn’t going to be a hero and then countering his own argument with the fact no one else could save the lives of those Keladry endangered this night. Either he stopped her now or treated those she hurt later. He was already involved in the outcome of tonight.

  But he fought his immediate destiny, arguing with himself all the way across town.

  Keladry had helped others because he told her to. What if he showed her a different path, one that didn’t involve mass murdering and destroying the city in order to take over the mafia her father ran? She had listened once. Would she listen again?

  What if she didn’t?

  What if she did? Was her submission of the superhero application on his behalf was a quiet cry for help? Acknowledgement the city needed saved?

  It was this idea, that Keladry had more potential to be good than he initially thought, that finally conquered his doubt.

  Twelve: Supervillains always cross the gray

  “Just drop you off anywhere or …”

  Gary’s question pulled Kimber from his thoughts. He glanced out the window and recognized Tapirs as they drove by.

  “Yeah, anywhere. Then you get as far from this place as possible,” he said.

  “You want me to pick you up later?”

  “I’ll call you,” Kimber replied.

  Gary’s look was inquisitive. Kimber wasn’t about to tell him what he was doing. He smiled tersely and got out of the car.