Secrets of a D-List Supervillain

by Jim Bernheimer

  She scrunches her nose in the most attractive way and says, “Well, okay. Is there anything major before the battle in Los Angeles?”

  “Not unless you want to hear about my epic rematch with Seawall, the living douchebag, or the gripping story of me trying to talk a jumper out of committing suicide.”

  “I think I’ll pass. I’ve heard Seawall’s powers only work when he’s concentrating.”

  “Yeah, you could probably flash him and that’d be enough to make him drop his guard. With me, it takes a bit longer, and usually involves a great deal of pain—on his part, not mine.”

  “What about the jumper?”

  “He did. I caught him, but broke his leg while doing it. It ended with him screaming that I’d ruined his life which was the only thing remotely amusing about the story.”

  Laughing, Stacy tells me to move on to the exciting stuff and I’m happy to comply.

  • • •

  “Bobby! Get up!” I said and banged on his door like a kid on his first day of a Disney vacation. “C’mon big guy! The shit’s about to hit the fan!”

  “What’re you going on about?” The man grumbled.

  “The Olympians are flying everyone to Los Angeles. Patterson’s gone loco and tried to kill Jade Lyoness because she found out he’s been building banned tech. We’re taking him down, and I need you to feed the ammo to my grenade launcher.”

  “All right. All right. Get me when you’re almost there.”

  “We are!” I shouted. “Apollo’s Chariot hauls some serious ass.”

  “What about your new suit?”

  “It’s not ready, but I don’t need it! Patterson made an atomic powered robot! That’s forbidden by more treaties and laws than I have fingers! Even if I don’t kill him, he’s going to prison.”

  It’s a good day to be me! Best day ever!

  There was more grumbling. “Have I got time to take a dump?”

  And, back to reality. Yeah, those are the kind of things I have to put up with.

  “Just be downstairs in ten!”

  I damned near fell on the steps going back down the stairs. That would have been pathetic! Hopping on the ankle that I had just turned, I jacked back into the control system and became immersed in all the input Mechani-CAL offered. While I was upstairs, I could still see and hear everything going on in the chariot, but now I could move again.

  Flipping the visor down, I looked around. The chariot was an interesting construct, tied to the mind of Apollo. It could get from one side of the country to the other in thirty minutes. When damaged, it would fix itself just like Haunted Tank. Through magic or psionics, it possessed an atmosphere and was capable of reaching escape velocity. The Olympians had fought in space and been to the moon. It even adjusted size to accommodate the number of passengers.

  My disposition toward magic had softened since I was dabbling; in what little spare time I had. Aphrodite stood off to one side in hushed conversation with Athena. She wasn’t wearing her armor and that annoyed me. Part of me wanted to go over there, she looked miserable, but there was precious little I could add to the situation. Somehow, I doubted Stacy would want to hear me say, “I told you so.”

  Instead, I stuck to the side of my team who, outside of Wendy, didn’t care whether I lived or died. Most any person on the planet would be a gibbering idiot, going for a ride in this company. Instead, I was still wondering what in the hell I was doing there.

  Bolt Action came up beside me and was staring at my powercell bazooka. After giving it a critical once over, he grunted and said, “It will only work if you hit, Stringel. Two words—don’t miss.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “Got a special assignment for you, you might even like it.”

  I replied, “Okay, you’ve got my interest.”

  The older black man said, “He’s got a weak spot when it comes to you. Lure his ass out. Call him names. Say whatever the hell you think will get him out of his private bunker. I’m just asking you to be an asshole. I suspect it’s the one thing you excel at.”

  “Seems you’ve had some practice in the art as well, David. Are you going to be sad if Patterson doesn’t walk away from this?”

  I knew he didn’t like me using his first name, which is exactly why I did it.

  “We want him alive. Lazarus didn’t used to be like this,” the old Marine stated. “He’s changed over the years. Everyone changes, but not always for the better. You’d do well to remember that, boy!”

  “I got your boy right here! I couldn’t give two shits about what you think. Just don’t get caught in the crossfire, because I won’t be holding back!”

  Our discussion attracted the attention of several others and I could see Aphrodite looking at me.

  “David,” Wendy interrupted. “Mechani-CAL is a member of my team. Why don’t you see to your own people and leave him to me?”

  “Listen Wendy...”

  “No! You listen! You don’t run my damned team, and you don’t run me! Back the hell off!”

  Now everyone was focused on our little conference.

  Discus jumped in, “Listen, everyone just calm down. We’ve got enough problems without turning on each other.”

  I took morbid amusement in watching both Wendy and Bolt Action tell Graham to shut the hell up. This was an instance of putting the “fun” in dysfunctional. This would be another interesting section to add to the memoirs. Ms. Bostic would be salivating over this. Then again, I don’t know if the general public would rest easy seeing all of this.

  Strange time for a moral dilemma.

  Bolt Action left, and Wendy didn’t seem pleased.

  “Save the anger for Ultraweapon,” I offer. “No sense in picking fights until the one that matters is taken care of. Make sure you stay safe out there, Wendy. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  She created a swirl of air around us to “Do I need to give you the same speech about butting out that I gave him?”

  Looking down, I commented, “You’ve changed your costume to prevent people from noticing that you’re developing a bump. I’m not trying to run your life, but I am telling you not to be stupid. You’re one of the most powerful people in the world and you’re the best team leader I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m the only team leader you’ve ever had.”

  “Nah, I’ve worked for villains, too. You’re loads better than they were. All I’m saying is focus on being a great hero and don’t worry about what kind of leader others think you are.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “It goes without saying that I’d like to bring him in alive.”

  “Then you’d better get to him before I do. Just saying. I’m pretty sure whacking his ass or not whacking his ass won’t change anyone’s opinion of me, so I’d just as soon do it, even if it costs me the pardon.”

  “I could ask you not to do it, but won’t. You didn’t hesitate to back me when it came to Mather, and I won’t ask you to forsake your revenge on Patterson. Maybe that’s not the hero way, but my view of the world is a lot different from the eight year old girl who first discovered her powers.”

  Her eyes held a weariness that seemed out of place in someone just barely over the age of twenty-one. She was a bona fide force of nature, but that power, that life, had exacted a price from her by taking her innocence.

  “When are you going to find out the sex?” I asked, searching for a way to change the subject.

  “Ultrasound in three weeks. You want to come?”

  “I will have to check my calendar, because I’m such a busy person, but yeah, if I can. Are you going to go with one of those weird names that celebrities give to their kids? With your last name, you could call the kid On Time and make the middle name To.”

  “On Time To La Guardia?” she asked and laughed.

  “Well, how about Clear Skies Over?”

  “No way in fucking hell!”

  “Watch your language, Wendy. Little Delay At La Guardia might hear you.”


  “Stop, Cal. Just stop.”

  “You know that’s not likely.”

  She sighed. “Watch yourself out there, Mechani-CAL.”

  “Thanks for being one of the few people who actually try to say my name right.”

  • • •

  “I’m still trying to figure out why you don’t just try and shack up with her,” Bobby commented, knocking back a beer.

  My mouth waters slightly, but I resist the urge, and grab a sip from a water bottle. “Dude, she’s not my type. It’s just not there. Part of my wishes it was! When she told me she was pregnant I offered to marry her, and she turned me down faster than Hermes can circle the block.”

  “Sounds harsh.”

  “Yeah, but she’s one of the only ones who actually respect me. I get the feeling that if we had tried that would’ve been the first thing to go.”

  As strange as it sounded, I’d rather have Wendy’s respect, than have her as a girlfriend. Just goes to show how badly my priorities have been screwed up.

  “Maybe you’re still too hung up on the one that got away.”

  I don’t bother trying to refute his statement. Stacys and Vickys don’t come along that often and I’m already looking closer to forty than thirty.

  Instead of dwelling on the sad state of my personal life, I focus on the important task at hand, killing Ultraweapon. On the side monitors, I pull up available imagery and layout of Promethia’s sprawling industrial complex. Sure, I’d worked there, but that was more than a decade ago.

  There was a perimeter set up by the police and the military. The inside looked like a robot convention taken to the nth degree. There were robots everywhere and they were armed to the teeth, and I noted a distinct lack of non-lethal ordinance. Patterson wasn’t going to give up without a fight. There was no sign of his new nuclear tinker toy, and I hoped it wasn’t ready to make its debut, because there were plenty of Type D Warbots to go around.

  There were very few humans to be found. Thermal analysis showed less than a dozen living people. Fanatics or loyalists, did it really matter? I wondered if the people I used to work with were in the sublevels below the main compound. Was Joe down there or had he gotten out when Patterson went over the edge?

  No one on the chariot seemed interested in speaking with me, though I did catch Stacy looking over in my direction, twice. At the moment, it seemed like there was only the burnt remnants of a bridge for all that water to run under. The realization of just how much I didn’t belong with this crowd hit me. Screw them! They don’t belong with me.

  “Bobby, can you link those belts of grenades into the launcher. Might as well get ready for the action.”

  My available grenades went from twenty-four up to sixty-four in a few quick seconds as the chariot drew closer to the Promethia complex. My radar lit up with a barrage of surface to air missiles fired from launchers. Hera stepped forward to erect a shield, while several of the others flew off the back of the chariot. I waited for the first wave to be intercepted before joining them. I didn’t unlock the launcher yet. Ultraweapon needed to show up first.

  Instead, I concentrated on attacking the warbots before opening up the broadcast channel and letting the insults fly. To be honest, I might have done this without any prompting from Bolt Action. My spleen needed to be vented, and I hadn’t realized how much anger I’d been toting around. Lazarus had this coming, and I was more than willing to let him know what I thought of his predicament.

  It might have been my mocking, or maybe Patterson decided he was losing too many of his toys. He finally came out to play and I was ready to make the most of it.

  My minigun, now tied into the suit’s power system, sent a steady stream of energy at him. His force blasters bludgeoned my forward shields. If I hadn’t had the additional two generators in the upper torso, my armor would have been in trouble. Raising my suit’s left hand, I grabbed the handle of the powercell launcher and slid it off the back. The HUD updated and added the targeting grid for the bazooka and I continued to spray energy in his direction.

  Cursing the heroes who kept interfering, I’d inched closer and closer to bracketing him, when Wendy insisted on my presence. I resisted until she conveyed threats of physical violence. I can freely admit that I was being a complete tool over wanting to finish Lazarus first, but I caved, rather than let the young lady with my bun in her oven do all the heavy lifting against this thing.

  At least, I got to see how much damage my launcher could do, even if it wasn’t against Ultraweapon. Bobby let out a whoop when the hip assembly detonated.

  • • •

  “Shit! I’m so stupid!”

  “So that thing’s engine is gonna blow anyway?”

  “Probably,” I said, and looked for anyone who could take care of the situation... anyone other than Wendy. Finding none, I knew I’d have to sacrifice this suit. “It’s up to me.”

  Switching over to my external speaker, I tell Wendy that the fusion reactor is my problem and that I’ll get it to the ocean and then cut it off, as I lift off with my deadly payload.

  “Bobby! Pull the grenade launcher out of the crystal and take it upstairs. Then, come back and grab everything you can and get it upstairs, too.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m transferring control up to the computer upstairs. There’s going to be a nuclear explosion on the other side of the suit and those three little entry points are going to let a little of it get through to here. I’d rather not be down here, if it is all the same to you.”

  “Can’t you just shut those things off?”

  “No. I can use the crystals, but I’m still a long way from figuring it out what makes them work. We’ll need to block the stairwell. I can spin them so they aren’t pointing toward us. That should keep the radiation risk low.”

  “You’re nuking my damned base!”

  His priorities seemed out of order. “Yell at me later, Bobby. Move now!”

  Taking my own advice, I unhooked the suit umbilical after putting the automatic pilot on the suit. Next, I spin the C-clamps holding the crystal shards toward the wall, and grab as much of the stuff on the workbench was I could carry. All those heroes, who barely acknowledged my existence at best, or acted like I was the walking equivalent of herpes, were now trying to say something to me. At the moment, I was a little too busy ensuring that my fake death was really going to be a fake death, to answer. Heroes get off on this whole self-sacrificing bullshit. Mechani-CAL was going to die today, but there was no reason in Hell that Cal Stringel had to buy the farm.

  Up in central command, I made certain the suit was still on course and told Bobby which things to toss into the stairwell.

  “You could help,” Bobby said, tossing a locker down.

  “I’m a little busy with the reactor right now and I’d just be in your way.”

  “You’re speaking words, Cal, but all I hear is stupid.”

  “Whatever,” I declared. “In the main storeroom, there’s a box labeled Radiation Kit. Grab it and meet me in the elevator. We have about 2 minutes.”

  Bringing up a blank message, I quickly type.

  Megan,

  Looks like we don’t have to wait for the pardon after all. I’m programming the transfer of the last group of video footage from my servers. It may cut off when I blow up or it may continue until it finishes. My proceeds go to Wendy’s kid, for obvious reasons. Gotta go nuke myself, now. You will have to enjoy Patterson’s downfall without me.

  Cal

  I’d be able to scrub anything that I needed to, and Megan will just believe that it is the lag behind it. I trigger my transmitter and then give my final speech. Ever since I’d first considered faking my death, I’d made up a few versions of this speech, and I steal what I need from two of them, winging the rest of it...

  I’d like to think that it was a pretty damned good speech. I didn’t have time for anything else. Meeting Bobby in the elevator, we rode it upstairs when the suit hit the water and the re
actor detonated. The lights in the elevator dimmed, but we continued our ascent. Once safely at the top, I broke out the gamma radiation meter and began a quick survey. After a minute, I breathed a sigh of relief; rad levels were at background levels. Sixty feet below us might be a different story.

  “I outta kill you,” Bobby muttered.

  “Didn’t you hear,” I said with a laugh. “Cal Stringel just died. You’re too late!”

  “I hate you sometimes, Strings. You know that. What do we do now?”

  “Let’s wait a day or two before going back down and seeing if there is any contamination to clean up. Want to go get something to eat? We’ll have to do a drive thru. I can’t risk showing my face.”

  Bobby had a look on his face, a cross between angry and constipated, so I asked him what was wrong.

  “My damned keys and my wallet are still downstairs. We ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

  “Well, that stinks.”

  • • •

  Stacy’s laughter makes recounting the story worth it. “How bad was it?”

  “Actually, not too bad,” I say. “I overreacted. Some nasty crap got through, but the shards exploded a few seconds into it. The C-clamps, or what was left of them, went into a lead lined box and we had to get rid of some other stuff. Don’t tell Bobby, but I used it as an excuse to get rid of the prison cells. He was really paranoid about the radiation levels and I might have used it to my advantage.”

  “You?” she asks in mocking accusation. “Use a situation to your advantage? I can’t possibly imagine that.”

  “Easy on the sarcasm there, Stacy. But yeah, I didn’t really go into that day planning my death. It just sort of played out that way. Good thing I already had a plan in place.”

  “Good thing,” she agrees, but I don’t hear the sincerity.

  “Well, I did need to protect myself from Devious and the Overlord. There’s been a large amount of chatter on VillainNet about how they are already after Megasuit. Straight up, I can take both of them, but she’s Devious for a reason and the Overlord won’t come alone. Fortunately, I have Larry and Wendy on my side. They’re a big step up from the folks I used to team up with, and less likely to stab me when my back is turned.”