Origins of a D-List Supervillain

by Jim Bernheimer

  Compared to the others, my apathy was pretty minor stuff. All seven of the deadly sins were pretty much on display here in a convention center in the middle of Iowa.

  Yup, Shriners, Avon, and this week a supervillain army, all use our facilities. They should use our event in their marketing.

  Since the rooms didn’t have chairs that would accommodate the armor’s frame, I remained standing near the back, with my faceplate open. Scanning the crowd, I tried to identify as many as I could, while at the center of the stage, General Devious had floated in the latest version of her throne, now with hovering capabilities, and addressed the audience.

  Looks like Eddie is out of prison again, I noted while returning to our conventions “opening speaker.”

  She was in her mid-fifties, still attractive in a MILF-like way, clearly enjoyed cosmetic surgery or used her telekinetic powers to give herself the right amount of lift here and there. Her uniform was crisp, blonde hair perfectly in place, and so professional looking that I could see her running Fortune 500 companies or even whole countries. The General clearly had the charisma. In contrast, I thought of Maxine Velocity—the wild child who had something different about her costume or hair style every time she arrived at my workshop.

  “The heroes look at most of you as a regional threat. Perhaps that does not bother you, but it should. I am proposing that we take this to the next level. It’s time for us to set aside our differences for the common cause of defeating the heroes and driving those government bootlickers into the ground! Alone, most of you struggle against the superteams, but look around; we have all the numbers we need right here. We know where their headquarters are located. They’re sitting there, openly defying us, and saying that we could never possibly organize an attack. Once we have eliminated the heroes, torn down their icons, and sent the common people scurrying into their homes like fearful church mice, then we can begin whittling away at the politicians. The world is right there, waiting for us to become its master.”

  From the reactions around me, the crowd was lapping it up. I’d like to say that I remained totally suspicious and did not for one instant imagine myself in an estate surrounded by beautiful women because we were the ones in charge.

  Still, something didn’t seem quite right. My neural interface picked up on my concern and brought the shields up on low. Surprisingly, the enticing mental distraction abated right before I got to the lovely journalists in little black dresses wanting to jello wrestle to see who gets to interview me. Too bad I didn’t hold off on it for a few minutes.

  Ah, the old subliminal sales pitch. Well played, General. Think I’ll just keep my defenses active until she’s done.

  Without her added mental push, the speech was just your typical graduating class style inspirational variety, albeit with psychopathic undertones. The idea sounded promising.

  “We will deploy skirmishers to engage the hero teams and keep them occupied and unable to assist each other. While that happens, the bulk of our army will descend on one major team at a time and obliterate them. Those in the skirmishing teams will be fighting heroes from different areas of this country who are less familiar with your powers; to give you an advantage.”

  She yielded the stage to Apostle, who was serving as Master of Ceremonies and hovered back to where the Overlord stood in his armor. While the man at the microphone went over today’s agenda, I watched her in quiet conversation with the other heavyweight on stage.

  When I saw that her lips were still moving, I checked and sure enough Overlord had his shields up. I lowered mine, but kept alert for any signs that she was still working the crowd.

  No trust issues there, eh, Cal?

  Frowning, I went back to her base plan and realized that her line of thinking was a two-way street. We would also be less familiar with the heroes we’d be fighting. I spent several minutes on how I could match up, if I was suddenly up against the East Coast Guardians, tossed together with an assorted group of villains trying to take on people who actively train together.

  For someone coming down to fight the Gulf Coasters, would they be anal enough to memorize which nodules on the belt Discus wears charge his force discs with which energy or element?

  Even someone like Eddie might be shocked, well, bad pun there, if Graham snuck up on him with the equivalent of a water balloon. They could really use something like Patterson’s Threat Index team for this. Wonder if I should suggest it?

  You just did, Mr. Stringel, came the reply in my head accompanied by a whimsical laugh.

  I probably was turning pale at the moment. Hello, ma’am. What brings you to my little corner of the world, today?

  She was still speaking with the Overlord, but was looking in my direction and had a half-smile on her face that sent a chill up my spine.

  You’re one of the few who picked up on what I was doing during the speech and are actively thinking about the negative aspects of our strategy. Most of the others are already getting bored or indulging in the little fantasies I encouraged. Would you care to know about the depraved imagery Rodentia’s flea infested mind is practically screaming?

  I thanked her for the kind offer, chuckled, and tried to decide if I should raise my shields again.

  Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Calvin, she broadcasted. I’m not trying to exert any influence on you at the moment.

  Maxine said you had a penchant for lying.

  Everyone says that, young man.

  Could you lie to the Overlord and get away with it?

  Apostle was wondering the same thing earlier. If memory serves correctly, he postulated that if we could harness the mental energy of me lying to the living truth detector and Overlord trying to catch me that we could...

  Solve the world’s energy problems forever? I offered.

  Actually, he wanted to weaponize it in some manner, but your way could work as well.

  Both of us laughed at that, and I saw the Overlord’s armored mask turn toward The General.

  Oh, you’re busted! I thought and pondered how to mentally smirk at someone.

  Please, she responded coolly. You make the assumption that I care what he thinks. He only agreed to participate out of fear.

  Fear? He’s got the biggest criminal empire of them all. But you’re right; he lost badly and still needs to prove he has the goods.

  From the stage, I saw the woman’s Cheshire grin. I agree with your point, but would offer two additional reasons. First, he’s afraid that I might finally get the little billionaire and will try to muscle in to make sure he’s the one. Second, without his pet clone, he’s lost his great equalizer. His armor is on the verge of being unable to keep up with the innovations by Ultraweapon’s people. Two years from now he could be as far away from Patterson’s armor as you are from his.

  That was pretty mean spirited. Harsh! No need to rub my face in it.

  Would you prefer I lied to you, Calvin? Only moments before, you were accusing me of telling falsehoods, so I was trying to be honest with you. I’m hurt.

  She was seriously screwing with me, but it was funny. Touché, I conceded. But what if I get Patterson before either of you do?

  Are you trying to make me burst into laughter up here, young man?

  Hey, it could happen. Ultraweapon could be so busy fighting you two off that there’s an opening for me. Stupider things have happened.

  Yes, I suppose if that ridiculous oaf Gunk were here, he could clog up Ultraweapon’s exhaust ports with that vile concoction he expectorates, and Lazarus’ suit could explode. That would be far more insane than you landing the killing blow.

  Without thinking, I imagined it, or perhaps she helped paint the mental picture. It was pretty amusing.

  Rather vivid, Calvin. Thank you for the imagery. Of course, if you, or poor Gunk for that matter, did actually manage to kill Lazarus, you’d die soon after that. Either I, or my so-called friend seated next to me, are adamant on that fact.

  It’d be worth it, I answered.

&nb
sp; Oh, in that case, I wish you good hunting.

  Thank you, Ma’am. I’ve always been fascinated by your chair.

  Are you offering to upgrade it for me?

  Only if the price is right, but a Direct Neural Interface would free up your hands and...

  Yes, my people tried that already, but that technology seems to inhibit my powers and the amplifiers built into the chair.

  Perhaps, but remember that gulf that exists between my armor and the set next to you? I’m fairly certain that same gulf exists between your engineers and me.

  She steepled her fingers and considered it. An intriguing proposition and it’s refreshing to see some brash confidence for a change. I’ll consider letting you work on it after I’ve killed Lazarus. It’s been a pleasure speaking to someone with such an inventive mind and a willingness to say what is on it.

  Thank you. I guess. My response was tempered with the knowledge that people around her all the time are probably scared to have a free thought.

  True. Most men seem intimidated by a telepath who knows how often you’re staring at my tits.

  With all her proper language, her casual use of that last word caught me off guard, which probably was her plan all along. For the record, I hadn’t, but now she pretty much forced me to. They do look nice, but the fact you can rip me apart with your mind kind of trumps that.

  Good, you’re respectful as well and have an interesting mind. Pity you’re not better looking or I’d be tempted to borrow you for tonight.

  I flushed, falling for her flattery, which set me up for the sting of her insult. She was toying with me, but not in the Hillbilly Bobby “make fun of me and slap me on the back really hard” way, but more like a cat swatting at a mouse a few times with her paw before pouncing on it.

  Yes, I suppose I am toying with you, General Devious confessed. Now, go ahead and ask me what you’ve been wanting to but couldn’t figure out how to phrase it.

  Since you brought it up, I said. Was Maxine really Patterson’s half-sister? How much of the story she told me was true?

  Yes, poor Maxine. At this point what difference does it make?

  Well, I guess it would make a difference to Lazarus, but I’m guessing you’re planning on telling him that he killed his half-sister at some point when you want to distract him; even if it isn’t true.

  She ignored my statement. I warned her she wasn’t ready, but she went ahead anyway. I sense you also cautioned her. Ask yourself, Calvin, do you believe you could face her as you are right now and prevail.

  I didn’t have a bedazzler built into my suit, but now considered that maybe I should.

  Don’t bother with the expense, she advised. Hermes now wears polarized glasses that will prevent copycats and I think you’ll find that the other heroes who rely on super speed have taken similar preventative measures.

  Annoyed that my invention was now obsolete, I admitted that Maxine would probably win in a fight between the two of us.

  Then we agree on something.

  Yes, General Devious, we do. But you still didn’t answer my question.

  Her laughter returned. I told you to ask the question, but I never said that I would respond. I try to limit myself to a small number of truisms each day, just to remember what it feels like. I’ve already reached my quota speaking with you today. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my aide is attempting to contact me about something rather inconsequential, I suspect, but I’ve already kept him waiting long enough. Thank you for providing such an entertaining diversion. We should do this again sometime.

  Leaving me with that last statement, I wondered how much of her last statement was a truth, or a lie. I raised my shields back to that minimal level and decided most of it was a lie.

  What really surprised me was that the assault would happen at the end of our little get together. The head honchos wanted to prevent word of our plan from getting out to the heroes and the government; and any of us that might have been having second thoughts about this were not going to be given the opportunity to back out.

  For my part, I didn’t want to walk away. If I had to settle for just being in the same area when Lazarus Patterson bought the farm, I could live with that.

  As long as he didn’t.

  • • •

  On the way out for a break after a briefing, I was at an automated buffet line when a man walked up to me. It was Eddie, obviously free from prison.

  “Stringbean, my man!” he said and tapped the armor on the back. “New threads I see? Looking...well, sharp isn’t the word, but I’m glad to see that when the nineties called and said they wanted their powered armor back, you answered the phone.”

  Clearly, he hadn’t changed very much; Eddie was still an asshole.

  Ladling some mashed potatoes onto my plate, I rolled my eyes at him. “Nice to see you, too, Eddie. The prison still has a problem holding you, or it’s getting much easier to escape.”

  “A little of both,” he said, and grabbed a plate. “It’s the technology. It’s everywhere these days. Everywhere! They were giving this politician a ten cent tour, and like, the dude gave up all his stuff, but forgot to take out his little hearing aid. It was pretty damned cramped in there, but as far as I’m concerned; it really is a miracle ear! I made a really big mess when I popped out. Now that I am, I owe those Gulf Coast bastards for bringing in the Olympian. You in?”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “Let’s see how this all plays out first. “Which group are you in?”

  “Skirmishers. You?”

  “The main body,” I answered. “What’s being in the skirmishers like?”

  “Not just in, bro. Leading the group. Goin’ to see the sights in the Big Apple!”

  “Good for you,” I said, fearful for the population of that city. “Who’s assigned to your team?”

  “Rodentia,” he said. “Can’t seem to get away from that little punkass! But there’re millions of rats in the city and that oughta count for something. There’s that one crazy assed Swedish dude, CyberThor. Keeps saying this is the dawn of Ragnarok, but he’s pretty powerful.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” I replied. The guy experimented with synthmuscle cybernetics, despite all the warnings, and to no one’s surprise, it kind of drove him a little insane. Combine that with a deep rooted passion for Norse Mythology and you’ve got a pretty dangerous piece of Eurotrash with delusions of godhood. His hammer was pretty much one giant capacitor. If I ever added a melee weapon to my armor, I just might have to steal that design, but getting into a slugfest means that my suit would be taking damage and I’d rather not go that route.

  “Also, got this Canuck Lumberbitch named Lady R.”

  Curious, because of her one email to me after the Ducie clone rampage, I asked, “Is she a looker?”

  “Oh, hell, no!” he exclaimed. “We’re talking two bag territory, with both of them going over your head in case one falls off. Why? You looking? I could put in a word for you with Blazing She-Clops, if you don’t mind a gal with an eye patch.”

  “No, not really,” I answered, taking stock of the women in the villainous world. Many were knockouts, but also whackjobs. As a rule, the better looking they were the more dangerous they were, just like General Devious. Even the ones who weren’t gorgeous were still lunatics and anything between me and one of them was bound to end badly, probably for me, especially if that one had a psychokinetic eye. In the case of She-Clops, looks could actually kill.

  Call me shallow, but most of villainesses weren’t really long term or even short term relationship material. Vicky was slightly better than average looking, with the total package of confidence, wit, and charm. Fortunately, she only worked for a supervillain and didn’t have all the hang-ups associated with being one. Of course that made me wonder about my own hang-ups and that was a little too deep for a buffet line.

  Damn it! Just thinking about her still hurts.

  “All right man, but if you change your mind, let me know. If I didn’t already have my girl back,
I’d be tappin’ that.”

  Eddie, I decided, was best taken in small doses. I remembered a time when I thought it would be cool to be like him. Fast forward several years and he reminded me of those guys who you thought were kings of the campus in college, but hadn’t really adjusted to life after that.

  “Did you have to break her out of jail?” I asked, starting to look for a way to gracefully exit this conversation without pissing him off.

  “Nah, she gave them the old sob story about being my prisoner and being afraid for her life. The only thing they charged her with was aiding and abetting and she beat that since they couldn’t exactly prove how she was aiding me.”

  “Good for her,” I said, even if I didn’t care. I’d finished loading my plate and would have to go somewhere I could pop a gauntlet off and eat something that didn’t come from my feeding tube. “It was good to see you again, but I gotta chow down and then do some stuff before the next meeting.”

  “Try not to get caught or killed,” he said. “See you on the flip side.”

  “Same to you,” I replied and went off. I wasn’t lying about having to get back on time. Unlike other conventions, there might be real consequences if you arrived late to a panel.

  • • •

  The skies above Los Angeles were filled with terror, smoke and the usual smog. The ground below wasn’t much better as three robot armies, police, National Guard, gangs, everyday joes, mercenaries, heroes, and villains all clashed in a chaotic mess of epic proportions.

  Combined, Devious and Overlord brought more bots to the party than Promethia and the National Guard. Billions of dollars in war machinery were slugging it out and this was likely to become the costliest battle in history, in terms of money spent.

  With any luck, I’d be able to haul away some of the debris afterwards. Bless my little mercenary heart.

  There were some moments when I had difficulty finding just one target to shoot at. Our side was disorganized and haphazard, but we had the numbers and didn’t really care about collateral damage. For now, I busied myself with destroying Promethia’s robots and tried not to think about the carnage that might be taking place elsewhere. I saw a pair of Navy helicopters toting a warbot, so I flew toward it and fired at the harness while taking fire from the attack chopper escorting the Navy birds.