by C. T. Phipps
“Drone strikes,” Diabloman said. “Exterminator-robots, special ops commando units, and snipers.”
“Seizing your assets, turning the public against you, and bringing down the wrath of the Society of Superheroes.”
Cindy started counting out reasons on her fingers. “Kidnapping your loved ones, a gypsy curse—”
“It’s Romani curse,” I corrected her. “Gypsy is a racist slur.”
Cindy glared at me.
“Okay, okay.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I get the point. I’ll see if I can get Adonis to magically ‘oomph’ away people noticing my identity.”
“I’m not sure it’s that easy,” Diabloman said. “You will have to remove the giant sign at the least.”
“Can’t I just have people not notice it?” I said, wincing. I loved the sign.
“No.”
“Shit.” Still, as long as my family was living here, I needed to take precautions. I might be cavalier with my own life but I wasn’t going to risk Kerri or Lisa.
Especially not if the government was after me.
“Truth be told, I do not believe it is the government who is responsible for the twenty-million dollar bounty on your head,” Cloak said.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
Cindy sighed. “I wish you’d learn not to talk to Cloak aloud.”
“Eh, I’ve gotten used to it,” Diabloman said.
Cloak continued as if they hadn’t spoken. “If the government wanted you dead then they would undoubtedly do so through means far less circumspect than this. They could just arrest you for your many, many crimes. This strikes me as a private contract instead. Perhaps Tom Terror or the Brotherhood’s remnants.”
“If Tom Terror wanted me dead, he’d just nuke Falconcrest City.” He was the world’s worst supervillain and I’d foiled one of his schemes when it had come within inches of killing Ultragod. As far as I knew, he was still locked up, though. He was still recovering from having every bone in his body broken in our last encounter.
Cloak sounded unconvinced. “I cannot think the government has degenerated to the point of taking hits out on its own citizens.”
It was comments like that which reminded me Cloak had grown up in the Pre-Great Depression Era of the US of A.
“Truth be told, I think the government would love to come after me and a bunch of other figures, but they’ve been holding back.”
“Why’s that?”
“I kind of saved the world last year and a couple of times since then.”
“I can’t imagine that would stop them from following the law.”
“You’d be surprised. The Omega administration has been trying to frame superheroes as unnecessary awful idiots for the past eight years. As long as Ultragod is around, though, any traction he gets against the Society is minimal. He’s bigger than Jesus. Maybe as big as the Beatles. The last thing they need is a public relations fiasco like all my good deeds becoming public or Ultragod coming to bat for me.”
“And you think Ultragod would protect you.”
“I did kind of save his life. His daughter also is fond of me.” Hell, we’d been engaged for about a minute in college.
“Is that what you call it?” Cindy said, making some porno music noises.
“Hush you,” I said. “Gabrielle and I are just friends. I hear she’s dating the Golden Scarab now too.”
“Oh please, you’re like her supervillain love-interest! It can’t be more cliché,” Cindy said.
I sighed, not in the mood to banter. I hadn’t been for much of the past year. “Do you really think I’m interested in that?”
Cindy straightened and frowned. “Not really. I think there’s one woman on your mind and only one.”
Not really, but I did a good job of hiding it. “Anyway, while I do think Ultragod would run interference for me, I think he’s more likely to protect me for another reason.”
“And why’s that?” Cloak asked.
“You’re in my head. The Nightwalker. He’d do anything to protect his best buddy and prison would make you vulnerable.”
“...” Cloak clearly hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t think my friend would compromise his ethics to make sure I was safe.”
“Then you may think too much of Ultragod or too little.”
Cloak was silent.
Turning back to the Mercilessmobile, I hit the remote control on my keys and the vehicle lowered into a secret alcove beneath the streets. I then headed through the front gates that opened automatically at my presence and walked to the front door. Diabloman headed off to his unmarked white van.
“See those diamonds get to the children’s relief fund!” I called out to Diabloman.
“I would not steal from children’s mouths!” Diabloman called back. “Everyone else? Yes.”
I chuckled.
“Do you think he’s going to take any?” Cindy asked.
“Nah,” I said. “He’s skimming off the top from all the other businesses. Just like you.”
“Only for good causes,” Cindy said, putting her hand over her breasts. “I being a very good cause.”
It was a weird feeling being one of the one percent who held the majority of the world’s wealth, and not an entirely pleasant one. I’d railed against them my entire life and becoming one felt like a betrayal of my principles. I’d considered just giving away my entire fortune or burning the cash portion like the band KLF had done to a million pounds sterling. The only thing stopping me, aside from the fact that Cindy would literally kill me, was I’d unwittingly become a wealth generator. As one of the last three billionaires in the city aside from Amanda Douglas and Mordred Warren, I had a responsibility to—ugh—employ the people underneath my care. Ironically, I still gave away so much of my fortune I was constantly on the verge of bankruptcy and in need of stealing stuff to keep everything afloat.
Capitalism was an ugly system.
“Just following that train of logic was so horrifying, I feel a sudden urge to convert to communism.”
“Excellent, another convert to theistic socialist anarchism.”
“That doesn’t even make any...ugh.”
I banged on the door with the gigantic stone gargoyle knocker before pushing the doorbell, which played the theme for The Addam’s Family. Weirdly, neither of these had been additions to the house I’d made.
“Do you think Kerri is still up?” Cindy asked.
“She’s a night owl,” I said, shrugging. “Comes with being able to talk to ghosts. Believe me, I know.”
My sister, Kerri Karkofsky, was a Natural Super. One of those rare individuals who had been born with super-powers due to magical lineage, exposure to other-dimensional energies, cosmic tampering, or other wackiness. They were the bottom of the barrel when it came to respect and prestige in the world, perhaps because so few of them chose to become superheroes. People trusted those individuals who decided to be heroes and they envied those who became villains but they just flat-out didn’t like individuals with powers who decided to be like everyone else.
“Isn’t it weird how her powers are like yours despite different origins?”
“Yeah, almost like destiny or someone writing it in.”
Cindy looked at the door. “Gary, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”
“Oh?”
“I think I should move out.”
I did a double take. “What now? You want to leave my kickass secret lair?”
“First of all, you can’t call a place with a giant neon-sign over it your secret lair. That’s supposed to be hyperbole, Gary. Second of all, well...”
Cindy looked into my eyes. They were a beautiful shade of blue and reminded me we’d been through a lot together.
“What?” I said, blinking.
“It’s been getting uncomfortable between us.”
I jolted and took a step back. “I’m sorry, if I’ve been giving you the wrong impression and—”
“Gary,
I never stopped loving you.”
Okay.
Floored.
“Pardon?”
“Finally,” Cloak muttered.
“You shut up!” I snapped.
“What?” Cindy blinked.
“Not you!” I said, raising my hands in surprise. “I don’t know what to say.”
Cindy slumped her dainty shoulders. “That’s the problem. You don’t feel the same. You love Mandy and I love Mandy and I owe her everything and she’s coming back. We dated in high school and college and I always thought you were going to be a part of my life. I took you for granted and....God, this is annoying. I just think it’d be better if we....stopped being henchperson and villain together.”
“Cindy...”
I...I...
God, this was so hard.
That was when the door opened and my sister stood on the other side. She was an ash-blonde woman with looks suspiciously similar to Christina Ricci. She was wearing a plain black dress and vest over a white blouse with a little silver ankh pendant around her neck. Her eyes were a bit wider than normal and she had an earring stud in her right nostril.
“Welcome home you two! Did your criminal necromancy thing go well?” Kerri asked, cheerfully.
Cindy marched past her, feeling her face.
“Did I miss something?” Kerri asked.
I sighed and walked upstairs. “Now’s not the time, Kerri. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow.”
“Uhm, okay. Are you sure?”
“Please. Just let me be.” I reached the top floor and sought out my bedroom. It was just one of the veritable barracks of them up here.
Cloak let loose a growl of frustration. “You’re being a fool.”
“Can it, Cyrano.”
I should have gone after Cindy, I should have stopped her and told her I was having those kind of feelings as well. But every time I thought about saying I was falling for her, even more than I’d felt for her before, I ran into the fact that Mandy was my wife.
My one true love.
Cindy was my best friend, and I, against my will, was starting to see her as something more. She’d been there for me throughout my time of crisis and the only way I hadn’t gone insane was because of her. I couldn’t betray Mandy that way, though.
Especially since I was determined to see her come back.
Instead, I walked into the bedroom, plopped myself down on the king-sized mattress, and stared at the ceiling. Closing my eyes and wishing to God I wasn’t a coward. I heard Cindy packing her things in the adjoining room but didn’t go to speak with her.
Sleep, eventually, took me.
Chapter Five
Death is the High Cost of Living – Because She’s Cheap
Sleep came quickly enough but didn’t serve as a source of rest. Since the Fall, I’d been having a steady stream of nightmares that only ended when I woke up. They came in roughly three flavors. The first, the easiest to deal with, simply were of horrible things that had happened to me. Mandy and my brother’s death, zombies, and the horrible violence I’d witnessed were all things I could deal with. Badly. But deal with. The second were worse. They were dreams where Mandy was still alive and at my side. It made the experience of waking up and finding out she wasn’t all the more horrible. They were getting progressively less common and, perversely, I was starting to miss them. I’m glad those weren’t tonight’s dreams since given what Cindy had said, I imagined they would have broken me completely. The third? They were visits from Death.
Like tonight.
I found myself standing in the middle of Restland Cemetery, a lengthy green field just outside of Falconcrest City that had once been a prosperous suburb. The city had demolished it and made it a memorial site for all the victims of the Fall. It wasn’t as big as Arlington, but it was amongst the singularly most depressing places I’d ever visited in my life. It was now a collection of tombstones, crosses, stars, weeping angels, and mausoleums as far as the eye could see. The sun was hanging in the air and there were no visitors, which gave the place an eerie sense of tranquility that was not quite wholesome. I didn’t see Death in any of her avatars but I could feel her sickly-sweet presence, like being sick on too much chocolate. I’d wanted Death’s help with Mandy, but despite how much I’d done for her, she hadn’t been willing to even give me a reason why she wouldn’t help.
“You should not be so flippant,” Cloak said, his voice low and troubled. “Death has been a generous patron and she has the power to take away all the gifts she’d bestowed.”
“She gave me enough power to deal with Magog and Zul-Barbas, a pair of big ass demons who were as much a threat to her as they were to humanity. I also remind you I’ve been paying her back ever since, with interest.”
“Gods do not see their favor in monetary terms, Gary. They do not bargain, as much as you try to, and disrespect is often severely punished.”
“Yeah, well, I’m tired of being her personal shit-shoveller. If I wanted a new god, I would convert to Astaru. I’d at least I’d get a free hammer and a Valkyrie.”
“Hello, Gary.” A cold, feminine voice spoke.
“I meant for you to hear that.”
“Of course you did.”
I spun around and saw the figure of Death waiting for me. Today, Death looked identical to Mandy with her hair tied in bunches like Cindy’s. Somehow she made it look elegant. Death was wearing a wide-brimmed black hat with a funeral veil and an elegant white dress. Her shining black stiletto high heels raised her slightly above my head. Death looked like a cover model for a “what to wear when you’re attending a funeral and want to look your best” fashion magazine issue.
Death was one of the Primals, the cosmological constants of the universe that were just short of God in the grand scheme of things. Well, if you believed in God. The funny thing about gods, lower case g, was they loved taking the forms of mythological figures in order to deal with humanity. I believed in God and thought of Death as the archangel Samael but other people saw Hel, Thanatos, Hades, the Grim Reaper, and plenty of other people. It made theological discussions kind of tricky.
“Hello, Sammy,” I said, using my nickname for her. “What’s shaking?”
“We need to talk.”
“That’s never good.”
Death narrowed her eyes.
“Err,” I started to ramble. “I mean, that is, it’s rarely, uhm...uh.” I pointed over her shoulder. “Is that Osiris?”
Death gave a low chuckle. “Cute. Just for that you won’t die of cancer in twenty years.”
“What?”
“We need to discuss your next assignment,” Death said, confidently striding across the graveyard to an unknown destination.
I followed her, keeping my head low. “I’m kind of busy right now. Personal stuff. Things like resurrecting my wife and dealing with the fact my best friend is in love with me.”
“Would you like me to raise your wife from the dead?”
“Yeah,” I said, suspecting it wouldn’t be that easy. “It would be really nice if you helped with that.”
“No.”
I sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”
Death answered my thought. “Because you know me better than any other mortal. Your wife made the choice of her own free will and accord to take a blow meant for Cindy Wakowski. You, promptly, made a similar choice to use black magic in order to restore her—knowing it came from an unclean source. It’s not my place to clean up your mistakes.”
“I think you owe—”
“Careful,” Death interrupted.
“Her,” I said, simply, “more.”
“I don’t owe anyone anything, Gary, but complete fairness. I kill the rich, poor, greedy, and charitable alike. I strike children, the elderly, the sick, and the healthy. I am the Great Equalizer you always are talking about when you preach your anarchist philosophy. I was here when the universe began and will be here when the universe ends.”
“Please.”
; Death stopped walking. “Gary, do you know where your wife is?”
“No.”
“A better place. People say that a lot and sometimes they mean it, sometimes they don’t. She is with her Goddess. Do you really want to rip her from that?”
I was silent and looked over the gravesites around. “Is it so wrong to say the answer is yes? I want to be with her. Hell, knowing there’s an afterlife, don’t think I didn’t contemplate suicide. The only thing that stayed my hand is I don’t think we’d go to the same place.”
“More than that stayed your hand,” Death said, her eyes seeming to look right through me. “You love life even if you loved your wife every bit as much.”
I looked down at my feet. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to bring her back.”
“Kill Cindy and Mandy’s soul will return to her body.”
“What?” I said.
“What?” Cloak joined me.
Death’s voice became almost contemptuous. “You’re pestering me for a cure for Mandy’s condition, well, there’s your cure. Mandy died for Cindy. Give up Cindy and Mandy will become human again. It may or may not be her soul anymore but it’ll be as close as you’re likely to get. Make your choice between them now.”
I stared at her, horrified. “You evil—”
“Careful.”
“I...” I looked down at my hands then turned away. “No, not Cindy. Anyone else.”
“A baby then.”
“What?” I snapped back.
Death sighed. “You use a lot of hyperbole but I think you’re less of an unfettered force of nature than you think.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“To simply illustrate the consequences of her choice are not wholly negative. Mandy’s death has made you a better person. You, Cindy, and others. One act of heroism serving as a domino to others. You should take that into account and respect her choice.”
I looked away. “Fine, I’ll find another way to do this. With or without you, I’m bringing her back.”
Death shook her head. “Then that, too, will be of your own free-will and accord.”