Supervillainess (Part One)

by Lizzy Ford

  ***

  Five hours later, he slumped against the wall of his bathroom and started to doze after a twenty four hour workday.

  His alarm went off, and he jerked in response. The buzzing sound managed to pull him out of his stupor, and he stood with effort. After turning off the alarm clock, he returned to the trashed bathroom.

  It looked like he massacred someone in the small space last night, not like he tried to save a life. Blood splattered the tile flooring, the walls, the mirror, the ceiling, everywhere but the bathtub, which he had cleaned out while simultaneously washing down the unconscious woman’s body.

  Kimber leaned over the edge of the tub and checked his patient’s pulse.

  Miraculously, she was alive. By all rights, she should’ve been dead long before he found her in that alley.

  Straightening, he wiped his face with one hand and spent a full two minutes trying to decide what to do. His professional side told him to take her to the hospital and deposit her in a bed. He couldn’t identify or fix any internal damage caused by her wounds without the help of advanced medical equipment. Weirdness aside, the city could send her to prison after she healed, if she really were a criminal.

  After the exchange with the police officer last night, and the citywide superstition about villains, he had an unsettling instinct warning him the hospital wasn’t the right place for her. But was his bathtub any better?

  Scratching the back of his head, he left the bathroom and changed out of the soiled clothing. He plucked his phone off the bed where he tossed it last night and groaned when he saw it had returned to life – but only had two percent battery left. His stepmom had texted something about visiting this weekend, and three reminders popped up on his screen.

  Annual performance evaluation. 8AM

  “Shit,” he muttered as he checked the time. It was 7:03.

  Kimber’s phone battery died, and he resisted the urge to throw his cell across the room. Instead, he hurried to finish getting ready for the day. He turned on the news for background noise as he made a quick breakfast. At the mention of the criminal mastermind, General Savage, Kimber peeked out of the kitchen.

  A picture of General Savage was on the screen. He really did resemble a supervillain with sinisterly sharp features, dark eyes, a goatee trimmed to a point, a sneer and a black mask.

  “This city,” Kimber murmured as he watched the latest reports on his criminal mastermind plans. He would never understand why the police couldn’t stop organized crime when the mob boss was so popular, he had his own website, Instagram account and Twitter handle. Couldn’t they pin down his location using electronic means, or just show up at the locations he checked in from on his social media accounts?

  Kimber normally ignored the news, but this morning, he found himself interested in the latest rumors about the local supervillain. He was about to turn it off and leave when a familiar face flashed across the television screen.

  The picture belonged to the woman he had rescued.

  “The location of General Savage’s daughter remains a mystery,” the newscaster said. “She and her brother are competing to take over their father’s criminal enterprises in a series of high-risk games created by General Savage to test them. From what we’ve been told, Keladry Savage has vanished after one such game. Some reports indicate she was killed, and some that she was wounded and is in hiding.”

  How was the reporter saying any of this with a straight face? More importantly, what were the odds a mobster’s daughter ended up in his bathtub?

  I have no luck at all, Kimber thought as he continued to listen to the news.

  “As a reminder to the general public: do not aid Keladry Savage, if you see her,” the newscaster stated. “General Savage has threatened to issue a hit on anyone interfering in the games, and the police and local hospitals are under strict instructions not to respond to calls involving either of the Savages.”

  Kimber may not have understood the city’s unhealthy co-dependency with the mafia, but he did understand the potential danger of sheltering a mob boss’s daughter in his home.

  What am I supposed to do with her? Perplexed, he didn’t turn off the television quite yet. Did he help her, because no one else would? Call her father to pick her up and endanger himself? Test the police after witnessing how unlikely they were to act at all?

  Kimber ate, too distracted to taste anything. His gaze fell more than once to the bloody trail marring his carpet and leading to the trashed bathroom.

  Blood was hell to get out of anything once it dried. There was no chance of getting his security deposit back on the apartment. The absent thought faded as he listened to yet another stern warning about not helping the Savage twins.

  Still, he debated taking Keladry to the hospital. Concerned the hospital would toss her out, he decided to ask around and find out if what he heard on the news was true and if so, to grab the supplies he needed to help her until she was strong enough to leave.

  Kimber lifted her carefully from the tub and took her to the guest room, which consisted of a futon and twenty boxes he had been meaning to unpack since he moved in. Draping blankets over her, he placed a bottle of water by the bed, grabbed his backpack and jogged the ten blocks to work.

  Two: Villains are nocturnal

  Sand City, the major metropolitan area located in the Pacific North West, sprawled across the Snake River and was half the size of New York City. Tall high rises concentrated at the city’s center gave way to a matrix of apartment and office buildings before fanning out into a patchy network of suburbs extending forty miles in every direction from the city. When Kimber researched the area around the only hospital to offer him a job, the city had seemed like any other large American city with a moderately effective transportation system, rents that far exceeded the national average, a city government that was slow to repair potholes and even slower to address first responder’s pay raises, and sorely lacking in an adequate health care infrastructure. There was a need for someone like him, and, on the surface, Sand City had seemed normal.

  Until he moved in and began to see the news and papers reporting about supervillains. Initially, Kimber assumed it was an April Fool’s joke. But as April first slid into April second, then into May, a new year, and April returned, he gradually began to accept the city’s bizarre fascination with the local mob boss and only questioned what the hell was going on when he was too tired to keep his blinders on.

  He was the last person who had a right to be critical after the mess he left in Chicago and tried to stay focused on his job. He never had a reason to acknowledge the existence of, or discuss, General Savage, the alleged local supervillain, before this day.

  Seated in his supervisor’s office for his performance appraisal, Kimber couldn’t help but smile as she went down the list of his accomplishments for the year. As proud as he was of all he had done, he was also cognizant of how fortunate he had been to find a place like Sand City General.

  “ … excelled in every regard,” his supervisor, Tish, finished. “I’m happy I snapped you up before anyone else did.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Kimber smiled at the sixty-year-old department administrator overseeing the emergency room and ICU. It was with some skepticism he rehearsed his questions about the superstition he could no longer avoid. Of the two concerns on his mind, he debated which one was appropriate to ask first: Why his boss had hired him at all after checking his Chicago references, or the truth about helping Keladry Savage.

  “Look this over.” Tish handed him the written performance appraisal. “If you have no concerns, sign and date.”

  Kimber skimmed the evaluation, satisfied he had near perfect scores in every field, and no patient complaints, during his first year at the hospital. He signed and handed it back.

  “The local women’s shelter sent me a letter of appreciation for your volunteer work there last summer as well. I’ll include a copy when I email you the appraisal,” his supervisor continued. “K
eep everything for your records. As part of your performance, I’m awarding you a three day weekend with the guarantee no one will call you in.”

  Surprised at his first real break since arriving, Kimber bit back his first instinct, which was to refuse. He had nothing outside of work, no interests or hobbies or friends. His work was his identity and purpose in life. What was he going to do with three days off?

  “If you need me, I’m happy to come in,” he said.

  “Nonsense. I checked your timesheets before deciding between a financial award and time off. You need the time off,” she replied. “I wanted to give you a week off but had a feeling you wouldn’t take it. So, take your three days, and any time you need a day off, I won’t ask questions or complain about the timing. You are the best we have. I want you to feel like this is your home now, and I don’t want you hesitating to take breaks when you need them. The work will always be there.”

  He smiled, touched by her earnestness. “Thank you, Tish.”

  “My pleasure. Now, any questions before I push you out the door?”

  “Not related to the performance appraisal,” he answered slowly. “About the city.”

  His supervisor sat back with a warm smile. “Have you settled in okay? Learned your way around?”

  “Yeah, thanks. The only thing I’m not so sure about is General Savage,” Kimber started. “Our hospital is open to everyone. If the General’s children are hurt, I would have a hard time understanding why we would turn them away.”

  Tish’s smile faded. She studied him for a long moment. “This is a pretty specific concern. Is this a question of morality or … is there a basis for asking?” While polite, the inquiry was much cooler than anything else she had said.

  Kimber resisted the urge to shift under her suddenly intent look. “Question of morality. I saw on the news no hospital is supposed to take uh … henchmen and his children as patients. I was curious if it applied to us, since we take everyone.”

  His supervisor relaxed, and her smile returned. “You are by far the most dedicated member of my staff. I’ve witnessed both your worth ethic and your ability to adapt to whatever comes through those ER doors. Your coworkers adore you, and so do your patients. But there are some rules that come into play from time to time with regards to General Savage. This is one of them. If he says we must refuse his children, then we will do as he says.”

  “Morally, how is that right?” Kimber pressed.

  “Morally, it’s not. But he pays your salary and mine. General Savage is the single largest donor to our hospital. If turning away his two kids will allow us to save thousands of lives a year, then our choice is easy.”

  Kimber nodded. It almost made sense – financially. He wasn’t able to wrap his head around refusing to treat anyone in the shape in which he had found the General’s daughter.

  “I understand your concern,” his supervisor said. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But don’t voice it too loudly, Kimber.”

  He met her gaze, alerted by the hushed note in her tone.

  “Stay focused on being the amazing doctor you are. Don’t go asking too many questions about General Savage or his policies, okay? You never know who’s listening,” Tish warned. “Sand General helps so many people. No one wants to see that change.” She glanced towards the hallway visible through the glass door of her office. “Keep up the good work, Kimber.”

  “Thanks,” he replied awkwardly, uncertain what else to say.

  “No problem.” Her smile was back.

  That took an unexpected turn. Kimber forced a smile. He rose and left.

  It was beyond him how one man – even if he was a mobster – could hold an entire city hostage.

  Debating silently whether he should ask someone else, Kimber made it to the locker room seconds before he was paged via the intercom system.

  “Fifteen car pileup on the interstate,” another of the attending physicians in the ER for this shift told him as he pushed his bag into his locker. “Tons of fatalities. One of the vehicles was a school bus. They’re bringing all the kids here.”

  Concern consumed Kimber’s confusion. Accompanied by several other doctors and nurses just arriving for their shifts, Kimber hurried to the emergency room.

  His day quickly became a blur of faces and bodies, the blue sea of scrubs, frantic parents and hours beneath too bright fluorescent lighting. Immersed in saving lives, he soon forgot about the woman he had rescued the night before and the lingering question he had about what to do with her.