“True, but those fools were working individually before. Now you’re going to be working together. You’re going to be the League of Evil.”
“League of Evil? Are you going to give us matching costumes?” Ion Man asked.
“Not unless you really want that.”
“I seem to remember they did this in the comic books. I also seem to remember the bad guys still lost.”
“That was the comics. You’re going to have a better plan than them. If you want to hear it, then get on the boat. It’ll take you to where we can talk.”
Hitter stepped to his right to see a black rubber boat on the beach. “You expect us all to fit into that?” he asked.
“It should fit you and Ion Man. Killer Whale can call one of his friends to give Neanderthal a ride, should he choose to come.”
“Me come. Want to crush Supers.”
“That’s one. What say the rest of you?”
Ion Man shrugged. “I’d have to check my social calendar, but I don’t think I have any other engagements this evening.”
Killer Whale glared at the hologram. “When you say the Super Squad, what of my traitorous sister, the ‘queen’ of Pacifica?”
“She’ll get her comeuppance in due time.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I know you don’t want to trust me, but you should. The way this turns out, all of them are going to be destroyed and you’ll be the new king of Pacifica.”
“Why would you want to destroy the Super Squad?” Hitter asked. “You’re one of those bloody fools. How do we know you aren’t going to sell us out the moment we get on that boat?”
In the hologram’s hand appeared a newspaper with the headline: Local Police Captain Slain By Superhero! A picture showed Captain Jake Howe of the Redoubt City Police and another showed the woman before them. “I’ve already changed sides. Now I’m going to up the ante. You in?”
“What do I get? Besides freedom.”
“We can negotiate price later. I’m thinking something with six zeroes.”
“That’s my language,” Hitter said. He still didn’t trust the little bitch, but the promise of getting off this island and a big payday was enough of an incentive. He and Ion Man climbed into the raft. The tiny boat’s engine started on its own to take them out to sea.
As he rode in the boat, Hitter decided after the job and after he got paid, he’d throttle the life from Midnight Spectre to give her what she had coming. That would be the best payment of all.
Chapter 3
The boat came to a stop in the middle of the Caribbean. Hitter looked around but didn’t see anything except Killer Whale and Neanderthal riding stingrays behind them. “Is the thing out of gas?” Ion Man asked.
“She tricked us, you twit. Probably hoping we’ll die out here.”
“If I had my gear I could fly us back to shore.”
“If I had my gear you’d already be dead.”
“Hey, I don’t like this any more than you do. It was either this or stay locked up in that shithole. I’m starting to think I should have stayed in the shithole.”
“No kidding.”
The other two came up on either side of the boat. “Where she at?” Neanderthal asked.
“Beats us,” Ion Man said.
“She ditched us,” Hitter said.
“Wait,” Killer Whale said. “Something is coming.”
“What?”
The answer came a moment later when a pair of black fins appeared in the water. Hitter had never spent much time on the water, so he had no idea what sort of creature it was until he saw the bulbous nose with a window above it. Midnight Spectre sat behind the window, a smug grin affixed to her face.
“A bloody submarine. Just perfect.”
Hitter fetched an oar and handed the other to Ion Man so they could paddle towards the submarine. Killer Whale swam alongside them, but Neanderthal remained behind. “What’s the hold up, big guy?” Ion Man asked.
“No go in there.”
“Why not?”
“Not like.”
“I thought you lot lived in caves?” Hitter asked.
“No go!”
Hitter and Ion Man looked to each other and shrugged. Without any weapons other than the oars there wasn’t much they could do to force Neanderthal inside the submarine if he didn’t want to go. “Fine, stay out here then.”
A moment later Neanderthal cried out. He lost his grip on the stingray and then flailed in the water. After about thirty seconds his body went limp entirely. He began to slip beneath the surface. “Hurry up and fetch him,” Midnight Spectre said over a speaker.
Killer Whale grumbled something under his breath but then dove underwater. He returned dragging Neanderthal by a handful of his jumpsuit. Hitter shook his head at the silliness of all this. Then he and Ion Man paddled forward again.
There was a door between the fins at the back of the submarine. This allowed Hitter and the others to drop inside, where Midnight Spectre waited for them. He was certain this time the girl was real, but then he supposed she might have a robot duplicate or something like that. “Good to see you four managed to get out here without killing each other. You’re learning already.”
“Where to now, boss?” Ion Man asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“To the staging area. You’ll get a full briefing then. In the meantime, take Neanderthal to the infirmary. There are some sedatives in there that should keep him out until we get where we’re going.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
After Midnight Spectre left, Hitter turned to Ion Man. “Kissing the boss’s ass, are we?”
“No sense killing our meal ticket yet.”
“Right.” Now that they were out of the water, it took all three of them to lug Neanderthal into an infirmary barely big enough to fit him. As the closest to a doctor among them, Ion Man rummaged around until he found a bottle of something to fill a syringe with. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I did a stint in the prison hospital,” he said. “And a few years as a supervillain gives you an education in battlefield medicine.”
“Yeah.” Hitter had pulled a bullet out of himself on two occasions and on another three had sewn up a knife wound. It was anything but pleasant.
The next challenge came in getting the syringe into Neanderthal’s thick hide. Killer Whale finally shoved them aside to jam the needle into the caveman’s thigh. Hitter braced himself for Neanderthal to wake up, but he remained unconscious. Killer Whale tossed the syringe into a trash bin with a disdainful look.
“So where do you suppose she’s taking us?” Ion Man asked.
“I don’t know. What about you, Fishsticks?”
“I don’t know either.”
“Can’t one of your fish buddies tell you?”
“Not from in here.”
“Well, she’s probably not going to turn us over to any cops. If she wanted to do that, she could have left us there.”
“There are worse things than cops,” Hitter said. He had worked for many of those worse things.
“I suppose we ought to settle in and find out.” Ion Man looked around. “You don’t suppose there’s anywhere to get a drink in this tub, do you?”
“You could try the rubbing alcohol.”
“I might.”
With that they set out to explore the submarine.
***
There wasn’t a bar in the submarine, which made sense since Midnight Spectre was a kid; she probably wasn’t of legal age yet. Ion Man offered him a cup of Gatorade spiked with rubbing alcohol but Hitter refused. He preferred to keep his wits about him when he worked. Even now when he wasn’t actively on a job, he thought it best to stay sober.
Midnight Spectre had not come back to the galley to visit them. They’d gone up to the cockpit only to find it locked. He didn’t have any idea what the girl was up to. She had said she wanted them to destroy the Super Squad, but so far he didn’t have any idea how they co
uld do it. It wouldn’t be difficult to take out that Outcast girl. The Velocity Gals would be more difficult, but there were ways to stop them. As for Mermaid, now Queen Neptune, no one had seen her in three years, not even her brother Killer Whale.
The real problem would be Apex Girl. She had no weaknesses anyone knew about, not since she returned three years ago. How could the four of them possibly do anything about her?
Maybe they couldn’t, but Midnight Spectre might be able to. She and Apex Girl had served on the same team; she might know of a weakness they could exploit. That was the only logical explanation he could think of. The other explanation was the girl had gone completely daft. If that were the case, they were all in big trouble.
Even after twelve hours Neanderthal had not woke up, which Hitter took as a positive sign. If that monster got loose he could easily smash this tin can open. That wouldn’t be a problem for Killer Whale, but anyone who didn’t have gills would be screwed. Hitter’s search for a wetsuit and air tank came up empty. That was another worrying fact.
A speaker shook Hitter out of his daze. “We’re almost to the drop site. Killer Whale, go out the airlock and make sure none of your sister’s friends are around.”
Killer Whale grumbled under his breath, but obeyed. “Where do you suppose we are?” Ion Man asked.
“We should find out shortly.”
“If she’s worried about Pacificans then it must be in the middle of the Pacific. You don’t suppose she’d drop us off at the Super Squad’s door, do you?”
“It’s possible,” Hitter said with a shrug.
“I’ve looked all over this can and there isn’t a single weapon. Not even an aerosol can and matches in the galley.”
“Those probably aren’t good items to have in a submarine.”
“I’m just saying, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
“Maybe you should go wake up the beast.”
“The old a rock and a hard place.”
“Not unusual in my line of work.”
“Swell.” Ion Man drank another glass of his spiked Gatorade. He made a disgusted face. “If I got to go out like this, I wish I could have at least got a decent drink.”
“If you’re lucky, she’ll be dropping us off at a tiki bar.”
“My luck’s not that good.”
Hitter was relieved when Ion Man finally shut up. He preferred the silence, which was why he always worked alone. It was much harder to take out a target with some damned sidekick yammering in his ear. One way or another he supposed he would be rid of his new friends soon enough.
An alarm sounded. He worried they were about to be boarded, but then he felt the submarine rising. They were coming to the surface. That could only mean Killer Whale hadn’t run into any trouble. Nevertheless, Hitter took a deep breath.
The speaker came to life again. “All right, boys, you can go out the top hatch. Just watch your heads.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Ion Man asked.
“Let’s find out.”
Hitter went to the back of the sub. He looked up at the opening where the doors had been. It was dark, but when he strained his eyes, he could make out stone. They must be in a cave. That ought to make Neanderthal feel at home.
As Midnight Spectre had indicated, the space was tight between the top of the ladder and the ceiling of the cave. Hitter stayed bent enough to swing over the side of the submarine and then start down. Killer Whale waited for them on a cement walkway. “No problems?”
“My sister’s minions are not nearby.”
“What about anyone else? The Super Squad or Interpol maybe?” Ion Man said.
“There’s been no one.”
“So where are we?”
“One of those desert isles you hear so much about,” Midnight Spectre said. “Come on, fellas, let’s get moving.”
***
Hitter figured the island had probably once served as a listening post for the Allies in World War II. The radio equipment in the room was many decades out of date and the maps still showed the USSR, South Vietnam, and other countries no longer in existence. The papers in the file cabinets had long ago turned yellow with age.
There were four rickety metal chairs for those of normal size and an old generator casing for Neanderthal to sit on. The caveman had woke up a half hour ago and characteristically had gone berserk. That was at least until he realized he was no longer on the submarine. His dull face was still flushed with rage, which was why Hitter sat on the opposite side of the table.
Midnight Spectre stood up from her chair. “All right, now that we’re all here and ready to listen, let’s get to it. The four of you are going to take down the Super Squad. I recruited each of you for your particular talents. So long as you work together, everything will be fine.”
“You mentioned that,” Hitter said. “What is it you want us to do?”
“It’s simple enough. Killer Whale, you’re going to recruit some of your friends to assault the oil platform. The bigger and meaner your friends, the better. While they deal with that, Neanderthal will tear open the outer hull so you can get inside. Ion Man, you’ll deal with the speedsters. Hitter, you get Outcast. If either of you needs help, Neanderthal can back you up. Got it?”
“I don’t mean to show you up, boss, but your head count is one short. What about Apex Girl?” Ion Man asked.
“We don’t have to worry about her. She’s already been dealt with.”
This elicited looks of shock, even from Neanderthal. “How’d you manage that?”
“That’s not your concern. You worry about your phase of the plan.”
“Hold on,” Hitter said. “This all seems a bit unnecessary. Why don’t you sneak us into the bloody place?”
“That’s a good point, chief. With your access, we could walk right in.”
“My access will have been revoked by now.”
“And you don’t have a back-door code?”
“Not one Outcast won’t know about. She’s probably deactivated them already. Any other questions?”
“Much as I like the idea of taking down those Velocity Twats, about all I could do right now is throw a rock at them,” Ion Man said.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to do much more than that.”
Midnight Spectre led them into an adjoining room. Ion Man rushed forward like a kid on Christmas morning. He threw his arms around a pile of equipment—his equipment. With far more reserve, Hitter knelt down by the duffel bag where he kept most of his weapons. He began to unload the bag. The sniper rifle, pistols, blocks of C4, and all the rest were in there. He took out the garrote to tuck into his pocket.
Ion Man donned the helmet and body armor that gave him a robot-like appearance. He held out what looked to Hitter like the kind of gun exterminators used to spray for termites. “It’s all powered up,” Ion Man said with obvious glee. “God, how I’ve missed this!”
“Be careful where you point that, mate,” Hitter growled.
“Me want weapon,” Neanderthal grumbled.
“I haven’t forgotten about you two.” Midnight Spectre motioned to a club that was nearly as tall as her and that probably weighed as much as she did. Propped into another corner were a golden spear and a silver harpoon. Killer Whale examined these with a connoisseur’s eye.
“These will be acceptable.” He looked back at Midnight Spectre. “But I don’t see how this plan of yours will depose my sister.”
“Once we’ve got rid of the Super Squad the rest of the world is going to fall like dominoes—including Pacifica.”
“It had better.”
“We’re going to ship out in eight hours. That gives all of you some time to go over your equipment and get a little shut-eye. If you have any problems, I’ll be on the sub.”
Midnight Spectre slunk off. Hitter watched her go. There was still something about this whole operation that struck him as wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet. With a sigh he hefted the duffel bag. It would be best to look over
his gear in private, so he wouldn’t risk getting vaporized by Ion Man or turned into blood pudding by Neanderthal.
He slung the bag over his shoulder. He went down the hallway, stopping when he heard a girl sobbing. He crept towards the sound. As he did, he heard a girl’s voice say, “Stop it! Stop crying! Be a man!” Each sentence was punctuated with a crack that could only be her slapping herself.
She began to shriek, “I hate you! You stupid, stupid girl!”
Hitter was not relieved to have his misgivings about Midnight Spectre’s sanity confirmed. He turned around to hurry back to the radio room. This whole business was going to go tits-up on them sooner or later. But there was little he could do out here in the middle of the ocean. He would have to look for a way to get out of this before the shit hit the fan.
Chapter 4
Melanie never liked monitor duty; she liked it even less right now. She should be the one out there searching for Robin. Except Robin had gone the one place where they couldn’t find her: underwater. Melanie had already inventoried the bunker’s vehicles and discovered the submarine missing. With that and the head start she had on them, Robin could be almost anywhere beneath the surface by now.
They really needed Elise’s help right now, but for three years she had cut herself off from the outside world. No one had seen her in all that time. They occasionally received messages from her through her former lover Paul, who had become Pacifican three years ago. From what Paul said, Elise had no interest in returning to the surface world she blamed for the deaths of her husband and mother. Melanie didn’t care about any of that; she only wanted to find Robin so they could get to the bottom of this.
In her heart, Melanie knew Robin hadn’t murdered Captain Howe. He had been her friend, or as close to a friend as Robin allowed herself to have outside of Melanie. She would never kill him. It didn’t matter what evidence the police had or that Robin had compounded her apparent guilt by disappearing. The girl Melanie had spent so many nights with would never do anything like that.
She heard a chime sound. One of the security cameras brought up an image of Paul standing outside the main entrance. She buzzed him inside and then waited. She hadn’t told Allison or Sally about this, but she was sure they wouldn’t mind. As the de facto Pacifican ambassador to the outside world, Paul was the only one who could help them find Robin at this point.
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