“HA! I knew it!”
“Knew what?” Century asks blankly.
“You’re DATING her!”
“WHAT?” I yelp. “I’m not dating him! I’m yelling at him for ruining my shopping trip by sending YOU!”
“Oh would you look at the time,” Century says in a patently fake tone, looking at his wrist where there’s no watch. He doesn’t need a watch, I guess, not with his time powers. “I’ve got a meeting coming up, so if you two could find your way out, I would appreciate it.”
“This isn’t over, old man!” Treble says. “I—I could have totally beaten her if she hadn’t run away!”
“No, son, you couldn’t have,” Century says in a patient tone. “Before you try to get into any of the Halls, you need to find out just what you can do. Once you know your limitations you need to find out who’s out of your league. After you find that out, you need to find out who needs to be taken down and who just needs to be . . . kept calm.” He looks straight at me.
“I do not need kept calm!” I say, outraged once again. “I was perfectly calm before you ruined my day!”
“And spending all this time with me isn’t making it better, now is it?” he says.
“Oh. Good point,” I admit. “I’m still mad at you, though!” I announce, jumping into the air and heading for the ceiling. “This isn’t the end of it!” I add, pointing at Century. “I’m watching you, mister.”
Then, since I’ve had the final say, I head through the ceiling and to the water company. I’ve got some heads to knock together.
* * *
Century lets out a sigh, pulling out his cell phone and dialing quickly. “Yes. I’d like to pay Skystep’s water bill—and have it transferred to South Branch Hall’s account. Who am I? I’m Century. The address is—” he rattles off an address as Treble stares at him incredulously. A few moments later, he hangs up. “Now I’m going to put this simply, son,” he says to the teen, “that woman could do far more damage than you can possibly imagine.”
“So why do you let her just wander around like that?”
“Because at heart she’s just a silly little girl,” Century says, heading over to the three men still frozen in time, “she’s easily distracted, and more importantly, easy enough to keep happy—for the most part. We did have a bit of trouble when Flameblaster moved, but she’s calmed down since then. She makes a good super villain—the ladies adore her, especially, and she’s fun to watch.”
“She’s insane,” Treble says.
“Well sure she is. Most of the powerful ones are to some point. She just tends to take the cake.” He digs through his papers and pulls out a simple business card. “There’s a place you can try up north, they call it Cape High. They might be willing to train you to become a super hero, if you’re still interested after that butt kicking.” He tosses the card at the teen. “Tell them Century sent you.”
Treble stares at the card for a long moment. “You—you can get me in?”
“No, but I can get you tested. Now go on, I’ve got work to do.”
“Thanks. No, seriously, thank you,” Treble says, gripping the card tightly, “I’ll do that.”
* * *
As soon as I slip through the water company’s roof someone rushes forward, hands up. “Miss—Miss Skystep, we are SO sorry for the misunderstanding. You should find your water up and working as soon as you get home.”
It had to be Century. For a moment I’m tempted to give the norm a hard time. I never ignore those urges, so I get in his face just like I had with the little girl, and go, “You got off easy this time.” I’m quite satisfied by the way all the blood rushes out of his face and he nods, silently. I suppose I’ll forgive Century—just this once.
I head home, forgetting entirely about the water, and slide through the ceiling into my comfy second-hand chair. There’s a book left on the coffee table. (Someone fixed the fourth leg. How rude, I was rather fond of the three-legged look.) I lean forward, picking it up and flipping through the pages of lairs for rent. After a second I throw it across the room. “I AM SKYSTEP! I DON’T NEED HELP FROM SUPER HEROES!” I bellow, just in case they’re listening. “If you’ve bugged me, I’ll find out!” I add in warning.
I head into the kitchen; intent on counting every single piece of food in the fridge to make sure the black suits didn’t rip me off. I don’t trust them, you know! Any group that has interchangeable members like that has GOT to have some sort of mad scientist behind it—one that specializes in clones. I’ve had one too many run-ins with mad scientists, thank you very much.
I stop, staring blankly at the shiny red box on my kitchen counter. That’s a Pokémon bundle, right? When did I—oh, wait, there’s a note! I cross over to the box, picking up the note and opening it.
For Skystep,
This is a gift for dealing with the boy.
I thought you’d like it better than cash.
Yours,
Century
P.S. It’s not bugged, I swear.
I rip into the box, excitedly pulling out the game system. What? Even super villains like video games! Now, which starter should I pick? Is there a way to pick a ghost type? Maybe I’ll be able to beat the ten year old next time if I get enough practice!
“I’m serious, here, if there’s someone watching me, you need to stop! I’ve got monsters to catch!” I say, just in case there IS someone watching me. I barely even notice the cell phone sitting on the counter, charging.
* * *
Century turns, tapping on his computer a few more times before picking up his phone. “Did she get the package?”
“Si,” Voltdrain says. There’s a hint of amusement in his tone that Century ignores.
“Did she like it?”
“Si, very much. She’s staring at it as it charges.”
“Like I told the boy, earlier, some of us just need to be kept calm—or better yet, busy,” Century says with satisfaction.
“Is that all there is to it?” Volt asks quietly. “Many of the other Hall leaders would have done something else.”
“Hero or villain, the capes in this area are mine to deal with,” Century says, “and if that means giving a girl a toy, that’s exactly what I’ll do. She’s gone through enough, don’t you think?”
“Si, she has.” The phone clicks gently, signaling that he hung up. Century hangs up as well, staring through the window in front of him. Finally he picks up his hat and stands. He’s got super hero work to do.
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The Revenge
Cheyanne Young
Cheyanne is a native Texan with a fear of cold weather and a coffee addiction that probably needs an intervention. She loves books, sarcasm, nail polish and paid holidays. She lives near the beach with her family, one spoiled rotten puppy and a cat that is plotting to take over the world, one scratched up welcome mat at a time.
She’s a full time writer and all around sarcastic weirdo who can be found furiously typing on her computer, probably complaining on Twitter about how she should be writing. When she’s not honing her procrastination skills, she’s writing books for teenagers. She is the author of several books for teens and recently turned her love of superheroes and writing for teens into books about teenage superheroes. POWERED is her first superhero book but it won’t be her last. Because POWERED is a trilogy. Duh.
Connect with her online:
www.CheyanneYoung.com
Twitter: @NormalChey
Instagram: @NormalChey
* * *
“Every villain is a hero in his own mind.”
-Tom Hiddleston
The sun rose in the morning, its golden rays flitting across Nova’s bedroom, sprinkling the walls with a dusty glow since the window hadn’t been cleaned in forever. Dawn wasn’t a big deal, at least not for the sun. It rose every damn day. Today actually was a big day for Nova, but she was so not in the mood to think about that right now. The sun also wouldn’t care about her big day. Her birthd
ay. The day she sought revenge on a family that wanted nothing to do with her. She suspected the sun didn’t care about anything.
Nova couldn’t help but wonder about things like that, if the sun had feelings. If it floated up into the sky each morning, looking down on all of earth’s inhabitants, caring for them, wondering how their day would go. She knew it was stupid. She knew that nobody else thought that way. It would have been nice if she knew it by intuition alone, but unfortunately for her, she had asked.
“Do you think the sun knows we’re here? Like, does it know that without its warmth we’d all die?” she had asked Parvo months ago while they ate lunch in the dining hall. Though his eyes met hers from across the table, he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t all there, mentally. His brain had been scrambled in an irreparable way. Parvo was much older than she was, a massive man, all bulging muscles and thick, messy hair. His skin glowed with the power coursing through his veins, and at his size he probably had a thousand times more power in his body than Nova would ever have in hers.
They looked a lot like humans, but they weren’t. They were better than humans. She and Parvo were Supers, an advanced evolution of human beings who had power beneath their veins. And they weren’t just regular Supers—they were villains. A word that sounds negative, frightening, evil. She was neither of those things. She trained day in and day out for a greater good. And in just a few hours’ time, on her sixteenth birthday, she would fight for a greater good. Just because the other side called themselves Heroes, didn’t mean they were without blame for the devastation inflicted upon her world.
His eyes watched hers for a long moment and just when she thought he might actually acknowledge her, he looked down and dug his hand into the bowl of mashed up food and slopped the concoction into his mouth.
“Why do you keep talking to him, Stupid Girl?” The voice had come from Corvus, a man who looked strikingly like Parvo, but where Parvo had brawn, Corvus was barely a skeleton with skin. He was once a Super, but was now confined to a wheelchair, needing to use a computer box to talk. His lips never moved. They just formed a near permanent scowl on his face as he watched her slowly eat her breakfast, trying to ignore him. “You know he can’t talk back. He’s a damned worthless invalid, you stupid girl.”
Corvus knew Nova’s name—with her status as Aurora’s daughter, everyone knew her name—but he never called her by it. Stupid Girl was his favorite way to address the teenager. He had other names for her, but she wouldn’t repeat those.
She had ignored him that day, and every other day since the one and only time she had dared to talk back to him. Now, she rubbed the side of her head, the memory of that incident causing the phantom sensation of a dagger to the skull.
* * *
Today she would eat breakfast alone. She saw no reason to eat in the common area of their secret compound. Though the other villains were people she considered she considered friends, she knew some of them wouldn’t be returning tonight. Aurora had made that fact perfectly clear.
Today was D-day. They had trained for this. She had trained for this. Not every soul who fought for Aurora would survive, but fighting for her cause was worth dying for.
Nova just, you know, hoped that she wouldn’t be one of the villains carried out of Central in a metal box. Central didn’t give proper burials to the Supers who lived there. Her adopted mother Aurora had told her all about the horrors that went on at the capital of the Supers. Central was run by a wretched beast of a man named President Might. The Supers who lived there feared him and the Heroes followed his every command—many of which were orders to kill the very people Nova had grown up with. The people she considered friends.
Just because they were villains.
It was disgusting. As supers, they had been gifted with genetic superiority, an elixir of silvery power that made them faster and stronger than any other human. It was a gift straight from Mother Nature, and it should never be used to control other supers, to hinder the goals of regular people who Central had dubbed as “villains”.
Didn’t it make sense, Aurora had always told her, that Supers should rule the human world? After all, they were better than humans in a thousand different ways. If Aurora’s group was in charge, they wouldn’t call themselves “Heroes” and use their powers to help for free.
They would be honored as gods. They would help the humans when their puny bodies weren’t strong enough to clear away the damage of earthquakes or hurricanes or whatever natural disaster had crippled their unevolved species. In return, they would worship the villains. Build them castles and monuments, be a complete servant to the supreme Supers who rule over them. It only made sense, didn’t it?
Nova and her friends were better than them. Why should they help out for free? They should be in charge, not the Heroes who hide out underground like pathetic cowards. Because that’s what Central was, after all: an underground fortress built into something called the Grand Canyon, which was in a country called the United States.
If the Heroes were so good and noble, why did they have to hide out underground? If President Might was some revered man of justice and peace, then why didn’t he live in a fancy house on top of the ground? None of it made sense. Nova knew the reasons why she had to live in the compound on an isolated island that was halfway around the world from America. Once again, the reason was because of President Might.
President Might didn’t know it, but everything was about to change. She’d trained her entire life for this day.
* * *
Nova held the black suit up to her shoulders, watching her reflection in the mirror as the fabric fell down to her feet. She’d never had a brand new suit before. This one was nicer than the secondhand suits she used in training. Those suits had been worn by every villain who was remotely close to her size. This suit, however, was all hers.
Her mother had designed these things long before Nova had been born and left for dead by her biological parents. Back before Aurora chose the villain lifestyle, she was a talented suit designer and everyone at the compound had nice things to say about the suits she had designed for them in years gone by. Nova knew that fact about her adopted mother, but had never seen her work until now.
The fabric was darker than even the darkest nights in the compound. It had no sheen, no visible threads or seams in the material. Nova pulled off her clothes and slipped into the suit. It fit her like a second, flawless skin.
She posed in front of the mirror, striking silly stances that put her knees and elbows at jagged angles. The suit was amazing, but she didn’t feel like she should have been wearing a suit at all. She was too thin. Always too thin. Aurora shoved food in her five times a day, made her train twenty hours a day for as many years back as Nova could remember. The science of it didn’t seem to matter; Nova didn’t get bigger. She would never have rippling muscles like Parvo or Snapback, the world-famous villain. She wasn’t even as tall as Aurora. She was small, but mighty. She could run faster than the rest of them. She could lift just as much weight as every other female villain on compound.
Still, she felt like a child who was merely pretending to be a villain when she lifted the hood of her new suit and slipped it over her head.
Like Heroes, villains wore a mask to hide their identity. Though Heroes wore them as an outdated way of showing their prestige, villains were forced to hide their identity or else they’d risk being depowered once the Heroes caught them.
Nova’s suit was slightly unusual in that it was lacking a traditional eye mask. She had a hood that covered her head, fitting loosely around her face, all black fabric that she could somehow see through. When she pulled on the mask and stared at herself in the mirror, it was as if she had a flat face with a cowl wrapped around her head. Odd, but villains were always changing the way they looked in public. Nova trusted whatever Aurora had created for her.
Aurora chose that moment to open the door to Nova’s room. With four concrete walls and only enough room for a twin sized bed and a p
lace to get dressed, Corvus always called their rooms “cells”. Nova had no idea what a cell was. But she didn’t have time to think about it because she had to prepare for her mission.
Aurora wore a black leather dress with black leather boots that went straight up to her thighs. Nova had no idea how old her adopted mother was, but she knew Aurora was nearing around two hundred years old. Her auburn hair had long since turned silver and it hung off her head like long strands of silk. Aurora’s sharp features were twisted into a scowl as she placed a hand on her hip. “Take it off. You’ll be training today.”
“What? Why?” Nova pulled off the cowl hood, the sting of rejection feeling like a punch to the gut. “I thought it was critical for me to join this mission?” she said, almost pleading with her mother. “I-I trained for this.” This was not just a part of her training; it was her entire training. Since she was a child she had known that when she was old enough, she would seek revenge on her biological father. The thought of having it all taken away from her was too much to bear.
Aurora shook her head and stared at Nova’s reflection in the mirror. “The mission has been postponed.”
Nova didn’t know what to say next. Though she knew the definition of every word Aurora had said, the sentence didn’t made sense to her. The mission was her life. Her reason for training, for existing. She would bring justice to the villains. She would slay President Might and become the hero of the villains.
Aurora let out a huff of air as if Nova’s disappointment was asinine and embarrassing. “Oh shut your mouth, girl. You’re not a trout.”
Nova watched her turn and disappear down the hallway without so much as an explanation about why the mission was postponed, or better yet, what the word trout meant.
* * *
That night morphed into another morning. By noon, Nova was done waiting around for new orders. She would not allow herself to worry about the mission and why it was being delayed. The only thing that would soothe her doubts would be hours of hard training. She ran for miles, never breaking a sweat. She punched everything she could possibly punch. (In the training room, at least. Aurora didn’t react kindly when someone destroyed something outside of the training room.) She strapped a five hundred pound vest onto her chest and did sit ups until she lost count. Nothing worked. She wasn’t distracted. She wasn’t feeling better about being pulled from the mission.
The Good Fight 2: Villains Page 16