No Master Plan Here (Madness Runs in the Family)

by Joel Burdick

  “Sanders, the boss wants to see you,” said Ruthers, her face drawn and serious. Denise stood and walked past Andrea and out of the office area. She followed Ruthers down the hallway and to the office of Gareth Doyle.

  Gareth was a bit of a packrat, keeping trophies and paperwork from cases he had been a part of over his long career. Filing cabinets lined the walls, and above them were framed newspaper articles and awards. His desk was large and had stacks of papers in a relatively organized manner filling the majority of the surface and hiding his laptop.

  Gareth himself did not fit with the appearance of a packrat. His suit, while several years old and beginning to show signs of age, was immaculately clean and pressed every day. He was tall and skinny, to the point that occasionally Denise wondered if he was sick. His eyes were large and expressive, green the color of grass, and his hair was the bright red that had hints of orange that matched his freckles.

  Gareth looked up as Denise filled his doorway and gestured for her to step in and close the door. He smiled, a crooked toothed grin that gave him a boyish appearance despite his age and seniority. Denise shut the door behind her and sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

  “Bet you're wondering why you're here,” he led off with, standing from his desk to walk to a coffee maker occupying a shelf of a bookcase filled with books of law. He poured himself a mug and sat back down at his desk, leaning back in his chair and watching Denise over the piles of paper.

  “A new assignment, maybe?”

  “Bingo. We've got good reason to believe that Anansi posted a legit profile on the net looking for a lover. We're working on a profile for you, but we need you to work the details a bit. Figure undercover is the best place for you, with your mutation.” He swung his chair back and forth as he spoke, as if being bound to the chair was too much for him.

  “Can do, but a question. Why do you think it's legit? There are hoax profiles of heroes and villains every day. Why is this one different?”

  “Just a hunch, really. If it pays out, we could get some seriously good info on this guy.”

  “Why him? Anansi isn't exactly the most dangerous guy out there.”

  “Higher up is worried about him. The guys who rob banks are bad enough, but they're not exactly subtle. It's the guys who plan stuff that are trouble in the long run, and with the stuff he posts on the net, we figure it would be better to try to keep an eye on him than let him blow up in our face five to ten years down the road.”

  Denise nodded and stood. Gareth set his mug down and started typing on his keyboard. He clicked the mouse once, nodded, and looked up. “The details are in your mail now. Look them over, try to develop a good look for the profile we drew up. We'll get a photo when you're ready.” Denise nodded once more and left his office.

  What a weird morning.

  Chapter 8

  February 8, 2012

  “You have an appointment today,” Kay said, materializing behind Anansi. He looked up from his console and adjusted his glasses. Kay noted the three days worth of stubble on his chin and quickly checked the video feeds from the last few days to see if he had actually slept in a bed. He had not, but he had at least showered every day. The progress on the Tar Baby project had been minimal at best the past week, mimicking the week before that as well. Tests were not showing any improvement of the launching mechanism that would be used to turn the solution into a viable core for the multipurpose grenades that Anansi used as his primary weapons, and frustration was beginning to set in, obviously.

  It was time for a change of pace.

  “An appointment? I didn't put anything on the calendar,” Anansi said, straightening up and scratching his chin, seeming to realize his own state of disarray for the first time. Kay sighed and turned on the shower, setting the water to running so that Anansi could simply walk in.

  “Yes, an appointment. You will be expected in gear. Hurry up and get ready, or you will be late. The Tar Baby project will still be there when you return.” Anansi rolled his eyes and pushed back from his seat to walk into the lab's shower, pulling his shirt over his head as he went.

  “Try to remember to shave as well.”

  “Yes, mother,” Anansi called back as he stepped through the door.

  -~-~-

  Half an hour later, Anansi found himself standing in full kit outside a one story building with long panes of glass lining the two sides that faced the street. A sign on the corner over the door said “Villains Corner Cafe” in blood red letters on a black background. Visible inside were people dressed like villains, though there were a few people in street clothes.

  “Seriously?” Anansi said, his helmet display scanning through the occupants of the cafe and identifying the costumes he saw. He did not see anyone who actually looked like they could actually be the person who was known for the costume, and some were not particularly accurately or well made.

  [What?] Anansi could feel the smirk in Kay's text through the neural link.

  “You're making me go in here?” Anansi said, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. A breeze caused his coattails to flap around his feet.

  [Would you look for yourself here? :P]

  “No, mostly because I wouldn't actually be caught dead in something like this. Have you heard of that place down on Fifth Street? A heroes and villains dance club. Weekly contest for best costume. It's ridiculous.”

  [If you don't go in, I will edit pictures and send them to your sister to say you are a regular. I'm sure she will find it adorable.]

  “I can edit your programming to make you have no personality.”

  [Just hush and go in.]

  “I do this under protest,” Anansi said as he walked into the building. A bell chimed above the door as he pushed it opened, drawing looks from several of the cafe's occupants and the barista, who was dressed in a costume that was actually a very good representation of Haunted, a villain who Anansi knew worked out of New York. The white haired woman wore a white mask over the bottom half of her face, white contacts, and a white outfit that was skin-tight except for where it billowed out at the elbows and knees, showing off her figure which was a bit softer than the actual Haunted's, but also more curvy. The sleeves extended several inches past her hands, and Anansi wondered for a moment how she kept them out of drinks, much less clean.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked as she worked a latte machine. “Nice Anansi costume. You put a lot of work into that, I see.” Anansi nodded and leaned against the counter, biting back a comment that might have actually given away just how much work had gone into the “costume.” He looked over the menu, settling for something normal.

  “Hot cocoa,” he said, activating his helmet's speakers. The barista nodded and set a paper cup down on the counter.

  “Latte for Nefarious Zod,” she called out before grabbing another cup and beginning work on his drink. “Anything else for you?” Anansi shook his head, moving out of the way as a poor facsimile of Nefarious Zod, if he were out of shape and overweight, sidled up to the bar from a laptop in the corner that was playing videos of a massively multiplayer online game. When “Zod” was gone with his cup, Anansi offered a bill. “Haunted” smiled and took the bill he offered her, giving him change with the quick skill of someone who had been doing this for years. Anansi thanked her and walked to an unoccupied table and sat down.

  [So, tell me again, why am I here?] he said, utilizing his neural link to send the message. Talking to himself was always a good way to make friends, but he didn't really feel like funny looks from norms who were villain chasers.

  [Meeting someone. You're ten minutes early for the meeting.] An image appeared on his display in the top left corner of a woman with brown hair and eyes and light brown skin. Her features were soft, skinny. She had the look of a model, and not one of the overly skinny, starving-themselves-to-death variety, either. The name below the picture was listed as Ghost. Anansi tried to remember if he had ever met her before, and couldn't, so assumed he hadn't.r />
  “Why? Why am I meeting someone?” he asked, irritation setting in. Kay was being abnormally tight-lipped today. He pulled up Ghost's file on his screen, finding very little in the way of criminal activity or news on the alias. Surprisingly enough, there weren't any other listed individuals who used the alias on the net. Maybe because it was so simple that people assumed it was in use.

  “Isn't that what people do?”

  Anansi looked behind him to the owner of the voice. She was tall, leggy, and wore a white tank top and blue jeans, her black bra showing slightly through the top. One of the norms that Anansi had noticed on the way in. Her eyes were green, her hair hung down to her hips and was bright red, and she had freckles that covered her face. She smirked at Anansi, slipping out of her seat and into the one across from him, a cup of some sort of beverage in hand. Anansi watched her with a cold gaze hidden by his helmet.

  [I forgot to turn off the speaker, didn't I?] Anansi sent, being careful to not voice his thought. Kay sent him a series of emoticons and closed the link, leaving Anansi to the red-haired woman. Anansi muttered to himself before looking at the woman again.

  “Not me, not usually,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. The redhead shrugged and leaned forward. It offered Anansi a look at her cleavage, which he noticed had more freckles. She beckoned for Anansi to come closer, and when he didn't, she rolled her eyes and leaned back.

  “You're not scared of meeting people, are you?” she said. Anansi started to respond when the barista called out “Cocoa for Anansi,” and waved Anansi to the bar. Anansi stood and took his drink with a nod to the woman, then proceeded to a table that wasn't occupied and well away from the redhead, leaving the her to his table. When she started coming over to join him, he sighed audibly, deciding he wasn't going to rid himself of her that easily.

  She sat down beside him and frowned. “You're not particularly nice, are you? Nothing like I expected,” she chided, sounding disappointed and simultaneously playful. Kay reestablished the link with an emoticon.

  [She's flirting with you.]

  [She wants something. Women don't approach someone unless they want something, and she is using every distracting trick in the book. >:(] Anansi responded, coupling the emoticon with a strong sense of irritation at the meddlesome AI.

  “And what were you expecting?” Anansi replied. He pressed a panel on the side of his helmet. He pulled a small straw from the hole that was revealed, extended it until it could reach his cup of cocoa, and placed it in the beverage. The redhead looked surprised.

  “Are you going to leave your helmet on the whole time?” she asked, incredulity in her voice.

  “If I can help it.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you ever considered the concept of secret identity?” Anansi took a sip from his drink. The redhead shrugged and leaned forward again.

  “Don't have to worry about that, myself,” she said, and as she spoke, she changed. Her skin, eyes, and hair all darkened. Her facial features changed, her nose becoming a little wider, lips fuller, and her cheekbones less pronounced. Tattoos appeared on her arms all the way down to the backs of her hands and on her chest. Piles of skulls and bones marked her arms, and Anansi could see the hooded head and scythe of a grim reaper on her chest sticking out of her shirt.

  [Facial recognition: 100% match for Ghost. You have met the target. Have fun!] Kay sent before closing the neural link again. Anansi made a mental note to make it so Kay couldn't do that anymore.

  Anansi was about to speak when he noticed the cafe had gone silent. He looked around, finding all eyes on him, and muttered a curse under his breath.

  “Good to meet you, maybe we should go somewhere less full of people that will rather quickly become squealing fans or screaming victims,” Anansi said. He stood and brushed his coattails behind him, using the action to palm a grenade. He pulled Ghost to her feet and looked at the man who wore Zod's costume, who was frantically taking pictures with his phone.

  “Give me that,” Anansi said, releasing Ghost to snatch the phone. The villain imposter protested until Anansi pulled a cord from the base of his helmet and plugged it into the phone. He spent a second copying the man's information into his memory and erasing the video before tossing it back. “You follow me, you'll regret it,” he growled, the Zod squirming back away from him.

  Anansi turned back and grabbed Ghost's wrist again. He led her from the cafe, coat billowing behind him. The bell jingled over his head and “Haunted” called after them, as if by instinct, “Feel free to come by again!”

  Anansi triggered his teleportation rig, disappearing with Ghost in a flash of light, reappearing atop the cafe roof. He spun around to face her, slipped the grenade back into its place on his rig, and glared. It took a moment for him to remember that the mask of his helmet did not transfer his expression. “What the hell was that?”

  Ghost shrugged and took a sip from her cup. “I figured you didn't realize it was me, so I showed you in a way you can't deny tells you it is. I said I'd be wearing red.”

  Anansi narrowed his eyes at the woman. She was talking like she thought she had been talking to him when the meeting was set up, and he still hadn't figured out what sort of meeting it was. He sent several angry thoughts across his neural link to Kay.

  “Let's operate under the assumption that I have no idea what is going on here and that I haven't seen whatever traffic you think we've exchanged,” Anansi began, pulling his emotions under control. He stuck his hands into his coat pockets, letting the tension seep out of him as he started ordering himself. “Why are we meeting? Weapons? Custom order?”

  “What? No, I responded to your dating profile,” she said. Anansi blinked. “We were going to catch coffee and a movie.” Anansi blinked again. He couldn't find words and was glad that she couldn't see how flabbergasted he was.

  [Kay, what the hell did you do?!]

  [Have fun on your date! I have the drones working on the Tar Baby. I think we're making progress!]

  [Kay!]

  [We're sorry, the user you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later.]

  Anansi slapped his hand against the forehead of his helmet. He made a mental note that the facepalm had a bit more effect when he could actually smack his own face as opposed to the face shield. “Sorry about that. Apparently Kay is playing matchmaker and didn't tell me.”

  “No worries. If it makes you feel better, this still isn't the worst date I've ever been on, by far.” She laughed and shook her head. She pulled a phone from her back pocket and checked it before returning it. “We still have an hour or so until the movie, so how about we find somewhere to have a nice chat beforehand, see how well your Kay did with this.”

  Anansi opened the video feed of the lab in his display, seeing confirmation of what Kay had told him, which was three spider drones caught in a mess of black tar-like goop and two more messing with the core mechanism. Apparently lab work could do without him today.

  “I'd like that.”

  Chapter 9

  November 23, 2013

  “Welcome to Supers Network, the supers news net. I'm The News.” The man was middle aged and sported a blue domino mask and business suit that did nothing to hide his identity, especially since it was public knowledge. Jason Richards had been a news reporter before he discovered his own powers of clairvoyance, seeing places he was not. He had always been obsessed with supers from day one, a major comic fan from the time before, and was the most accurate source of news involving supers. Denise liked him.

  “Top story today involves young Maryland hero known as Blink. For those of you who don't know her, shame on you, but I digress. The little vixen, whose power set includes teleportation and invisibility, came across a gang of men brutally beating a gay man in her home town of Baltimore. Hate crimes such as this one have been more common in recent day with the increased effort from the LGBT community to attain equal marriage rights.” The News flipped to the
next page in his stack of papers and cleared his throat, preparing to continue.

  “A crowd had gathered to watch the assault, which drew our heroine. Despite being out of costume, Blink leaped to action, using martial arts and her ability to teleport to disable six men twice her size in a matter of seconds, though not without being hit several times. After cuffing the men to a light post, she administered first aid to the victim while berating the onlookers for doing nothing to help the man.

  “The victim's name has not been released by police, but they have released that the man is in stable condition at Sinai and will be released after an observation period.

  “A representative of the Baltimore PD had this to say:” The News reached over and pressed a button on a smart phone. The still image of an elderly man wearing the dress uniform of the Baltimore Police Department appeared beside The News, and a voice began playing from the phone.

  “The Baltimore PD has in custody six men who were videotaped committing aggravated assault on a man. The men were captured by the licensed vigilante, Blink, who has issued a statement corroborated by the aforementioned video evidence. We do not take these crimes lightly, and neither do our licensed vigilante counterparts, and these men and any like them will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

  The News nodded and tapped his papers on the table. “Blink did respond to an email from the Supers Network asking for comment, saying “I think people like that are dumb, and people should be able to be happy, no matter who they love. I also think the people watching should be charged with criminal neglect or something, but the police aren't gonna do that.””

  A crash in the next room drew Denise's attention. She stood from her seat on the couch and stretched towards the ceiling, feeling her muscles limber. Anansi was in there, in her apartment's bedroom, and though the wall muffled the words beyond recognition, he was yelling. She turned off the television and opened the door to see him pacing in front of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, a cell phone pressed to his ear.