Confessions of a D-List Supervillain

by Bernheimer, Jim; Hsieh, Fiona

  She isn’t terribly impressed. “Bring it on, Calvin. This is your masterpiece? This? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Before I know it, I’m triggering the unlatching mechanism on her helmet. It falls to the ground with a clatter and once again, I’m staring at her. Even with a horrible haircut and days of not being able to wash her face, she’s gorgeous. Her psi-bolts hit my shields and knock me around a little bit. A blast from my pulse rifle narrowly misses, but in such a confined space it batters her into the wall. Stacy staggers back to her feet. I absorb her next four blasts, and my pulse rifle blows her into the adjacent cell. She’s bruised and battered, barely able to stand.

  Dropping the rifle, I grab Stacy with both hands as she tries to flee out the opening into the passageway. Somewhere in all this, she became a symbol of all my failures and all the people who’ve beaten me. It’s wrong. I know it, but can’t stop myself.

  I push her against the wall face-first and hold her there for a minute, unsure of what to do next.

  “Just finish me,” I pick up from my external microphones. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

  It’s a good question.

  Do I have anything left to prove?

  The answer is no, at least not to myself. I look back at the cell block. Both are ruined, I either have to kill her or let her go. I won the battle, but lost the war.

  She struggles in vain. I keep her face turned away. Her psi-bolts can’t get to me. Time passes and Stacy stops, waiting for me to reach a decision.

  I set her down on the ground and keep her from falling. “Can you stand?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Setting you free. Time to go rejoin your masters. This is pointless.”

  Stacy clearly doesn’t understand. “What?”

  “Go up the steps, through the main control room. There’s another set of steps and the elevator is on the far wall. The exit key code is 8675309 – Tommy Tutone's song. The lift is broken, so you’ll have to climb sixty feet up a ladder after that, but you’ll be on the surface. I’m sure you’ll have a bug on you within the hour if you get a move on.”

  She immediately starts in that direction, but pauses on the steps. “What about you?”

  “I’ll set the self-destruct.”

  “In that case, you should just stun me and use this time to grab whatever you’re going to take with you to your next base. I won’t be able to keep anything from them.”

  “There’s no next base. I’m not leaving.”

  Either her injuries are worse than I thought, or my words get the better of her.

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “They aren’t going to buy it. You have another base. There’s always another base! They won’t believe you faked your death twice.”

  “No faking this time.”

  “You’re just giving up?”

  “Why not? You did. Look, you’ve been here seventeen days, Stacy. You used to be one of the most powerful heroes on the planet and you can’t beat this. If you couldn’t, then no one else is going to be able to. I can’t save the human race. I’m tired of all this.”

  Her confusion draws a sigh and I continue, “You said it yourself, Stacy. The bugs have a limited set of orders. They start with capturing everyone, building factories, and designing weapons. When people start dying, are they going to make babies for replacement workers, or is the human race going to die off?”

  She stammers, “I don’t ... I don’t know.”

  “My guess is no – they don’t have that programming. And going up there means I’ll end up in a big old fight with any available heroes and villains they send my way. This armor should let me beat the first few, but eventually ... I’ll lose. Thing is, I’m not into painful last stands, where I’m surrounded by a bunch of people when I trigger my armor’s self-destruct. That’s the way people like you and Patterson always want to go out.”

  “If you’re not going to fight, then come with me. You’ll be so happy.”

  “No thanks, Stacy. Just because I don’t want to go out in a blaze of glory doesn’t mean I want to sell myself into slavery. I may be a petty, two-bit criminal, but I plan on dying a free man. I’ll at least go to my grave knowing that I didn’t join up with the side that’s ending human life as we know it.”

  “Stop it! You’re not making any sense.”

  “...says the hero ready to run back to her supercrack. You’re wasting valuable time, Stacy. You could be halfway up the escape ladder by now. Eternal bliss is just a few short steps away.”

  I start walking and she moves out of my way. Reaching the main control room, I interface with the computer and start going through the checklist to activate the base self-destruct. I see Stacy’s reflection in the plasma monitor. “If you want to get back quicker, I think I can scare up a jetpack for you. The controls are pretty standard.”

  She continues to stare at my backside and limps toward the exit. Pausing, she says, “Are you sure you won’t come?”

  “Have a nice life, Stacy. Fair warning, I’ll be playing Biz Markie shortly. I figure, a few more times for the road.”

  At the keypad, she punches in the first three numbers of Tommy Tutone’s most famous song and stops. I follow her progress as she walks back down the steps and sits next to me.

  “Do you need help getting to the surface?”

  “Aphrodite ... the real one, pulled me aside on the day before we were leaving to come back from Olympus. She told me about all the things she did and the ones that she most regretted, cheating on her husband, warping, torturing, and sometimes killing people to satisfy her own vanity. She warned me not to follow in her path and hoped that I would bring honor and a measure of redemption to her name. I climb that ladder right now, and I’ll know, deep down, I’m not living up to the one thing she asked of me.”

  “So you’re going to stay?”

  “Unless you can’t cancel the self-destruct.”

  “That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? But we’re good. I was waiting until you got to the surface.”

  She gives me a weak smile, “My other condition for staying is that you don’t play that damn song again – ever.”

  “If it means saving the world, I’m sure Biz would understand.”

  I go get the first aid kit. She pops four pain relievers while I tend to her scrapes and injuries.

  “What do we do now?” she asks.

  “I was hoping you’d know. Any idea where they have all the android and robot heroes in storage?”

  “I’ve got a few guesses. We’re still only two against the world.” She winces a bit. The side of her face that I pressed into the wall is going to have some nasty bruises.

  “Yeah, but those psi powers of yours, they aren’t just psychokinetic, right? You can do something similar to what those bugs do?”

  “Yes, except there’s only one of me.”

  “I can fix the cells and we can capture a few other supers. With you around, we might have a chance of rehabbing them quicker.”

  “You mean without the lies and mind games.”

  “Sorry about that. I use what tools I have available. If we get enough of us together, we should be able to come up with a master plan.” I try to make nice with her. I’m sorry I put her through it, but only after the fact. If we do try to rehab some of the other supers, I’ll probably end up doing the same shit all over again.

  “So you want to open a detox clinic? You’re not exactly the nurturing type, trust me. Was I that much fun?”

  “No, but we need more firepower. And a chance to come up with some kind of free-the-world scheme. While I fix the cells, you rest up and think of who we should try to grab.”

  Stacy nods, “I’m going to need something to protect me when we’re up on the surface.”

  “We’ll, I’m no Lazarus Patterson, but I’ve been known to make a set of armor or two. I should be able to rig something that’ll keep the bugs out, give you flight and more protection, but still let you use your psi-bolts. It
won’t necessarily be the prettiest set of armor.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Easy on the sarcasm there, Aphrodite.”

  She chokes on the glass of water I gave her to wash down the pills. “You called me Aphrodite.”

  “You started acting like a hero again. Wait here, I’ll get one of the spare rooms set up as a bedroom for you to use.”

  Just to be safe, I change the code on the keypad at the exit and set an alarm in case she tries to use the door.

  Chapter Three

  Like I Need Another Reason to Invade Branson, Missouri

  We travel at night, a few hundred miles from “The Pig Sty.” Cloud cover is good, and we’re seeing whole sections of cities being converted into factories.

  Aphrodite’s armor is a hodgepodge of the previous Mark I and Mark II suits. Technically, it’s the Mark II point one. I was forced to leave it light on the synth-muscle, but her superhuman strength compensates for it. Since she already has her own mode of attack, I gave the suit a single force blaster for a backup weapon and reserved most of the energy in the suit for shielding and maneuverability.

  My com channel crackles to life. Aphrodite’s insistent voice is on the other end. “Okay where is it?”

  “It’s not like I come up here to the Ozarks all the time. They stopped using me as a supplier three years ago and these storage depots aren’t exactly meant to be found. It’s a cave on the side of a mountain. Frankly, I’m lucky I remembered which mountain I used to deliver pulse cannons to.”

  Forty-five minutes later we’re looking at a chamber full of inactive robot foot soldiers. My access code doesn’t work, but good old Paul, the guy who cut me as a supplier, never removed my deceased girlfriend’s code from the system. The robots are standard Type A fodder – the kind found in bases all over the world. It makes me wonder what poor son of a bitch got screwed out of his patents and designs for these robogrunts.

  “Now comes the fun part. Put your hand at the back of each head, start a power transfer to get the rudiments of its operating system up and then install our command rootkit in the var directory.”

  “These things run on Linux?”

  “Yeah, wouldn’t want to have to wait around while your security force finishes blue screening. Still, this version is pretty old. If we were going to keep them, I’d recommend we upgrade it to the newest distribution, but since these things are going to get destroyed anyway…”

  There’s a hint of malice in her voice. “You’re only programming them to attack the empty warehouses and to defend against super powered attackers.”

  “If I was Lazarus Patterson, would you be asking the same question?”

  “He’s not a criminal.”

  “That depends on your point of view. Try asking that to anyone who ever tried to patent their intellectual property after leaving his employment. What boggles my mind is how half the parts in these robots came from his factories and everyone believes he’s a saint.”

  “Bitter with envy isn’t a good look for you, Calvin. What about all those weapons that you built? I’m sure they never hurt anyone. Unlike you, he only sells to legitimate governments.”

  “…and turns a blind eye when they resell it. Exhibit A is lined up in rows in front of you.” Great, there’s no way I’m going to win this argument. She’s not only an Ultraweapon fangirl, she’s actually dated him.

  “Oh, so some people using his technology for crime completely wipes out all the good he’s ever done and, at the same time, it gives you carte blanche to excuse yourself for every gun you’ve ever built and sold in some back alley to a guy with no neck and a couple of dollars. You should listen to yourself sometime, hypocrite.”

  Tonight is looking like it’s going to be a long one. She’s more irritable when we’re outside and she’s locked inside her armor. I know she’s thinking about the bugs. There’s no one else to take it out on other than little old me.

  Wisely, I concede and change the subject. “Fine, you’re right. I’m a small-minded, petty criminal jealous of his success. Let’s just drop it. Who do you think we’re going to attract when we send these guys into the city?”

  “Hopefully, they’ll send some of the Olympians and we can grab one of my teammates.”

  I bite back my sarcasm and move on to the next robot. Aphrodite is looking to save her friends first. I’d prefer we start with a few mid-tier crime fighters rather than aiming for the proverbial brass ring. We actually discussed hunting down some of the bad guys, but odds were that we would end up fighting them as well. I’ll be the token bad guy on this team, thank you very much.

  There’s a lot I wouldn’t mind taking from here, but I’m limited by space – like going into a grocery store, where everything is free, but only getting one of those hand baskets that have to be carried instead of a shopping cart.

  “The sooner we get these bots reprogrammed, the sooner we’ll find out. Plus, there are a couple of spools of synth-muscle. I can finish wiring your armor up right.”

  “I still can’t believe that someone went to the trouble of hiding a robot army near Branson, Missouri. Why would anyone want to attack a vacation destination?”

  “You don’t think like a villain, probably a good thing. You could send them here to draw the military in this direction while you attack Fort Leonard Wood, or Whiteman Air Force Base, or pick any place nearby. Of course, there’s always the money in that city.”

  Stacy steps out from the row that she’s working on. It’s funny how she can make armor that I’ve worn for years, albeit with a few modifications, sexy. “It’s always about the money isn’t it?”

  “Usually, it’s the people with the money that are always screwing me over. But yeah, it’s about the money probably seventy-five percent of the time. This is taking longer than I’d thought. We might as well take a break.”

  “Why?”

  “At the rate we’re going, it’ll be almost morning before we finish and we won’t be rested. I’d rather attack in the evening and be able to use the darkness to escape. The rainclouds will also help cover us.”

  “Just when I thought that your base was the absolute worst pit on the planet, you bring me here. How exactly do you sleep in this contraption?”

  “Sit down and put your back against the wall. I’ve gotten used to it. There’s music and some movies on your hard drive, if you don’t feel like chatting.” On a whim, I walk over to the small and lonely looking desk and pull open the drawers. A bitter laugh comes out of my mouth.

  “What are you doing?” Aphrodite walks up behind me and looks down. “It’s just a couple of trashy romance novels. What’s so important about them?”

  “They’re Vicky’s. She used to keep a supply of them around in these places when waiting for a delivery.”

  There’s a slight teasing in her voice. “Why Cal, I didn’t know you have a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t. She’s dead. One of the bodies they pulled out of Omega Base.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to …”

  “Save it! I’m going offline to rest. I recommend you do the same.” I dismiss her, probably rudely, and break off communications.

  Even D-List supervillains have lives and things that once meant something to them. It isn’t always about the money.

  • • •

  I’ve never led an army of robots attacking a city. It’s a rush! No wonder people like Devious and Overlord get their jollies off of it. The arm mounted light pulse cannons riddle the empty but pristine buildings with holes, turning it into Swiss cheese, and within a minute or two it becomes so much rubble as my minions move on to the next completely identical structure. A few hours of uninterrupted rest and some gratuitous mayhem can do wonders to improve my mood.

  Six factories later, I’m starting to get a bit bored when the first defenders finally show up. Response time is way down these days. Bullets start pinging off my armor and I spot several police officers. Calmly, I walk through the gunfire and arr
ive at the first officer while she reloads – no sense of preservation whatsoever. It’s sad, but right now, I’ve got the better drones. Just like pulling a tick off of the family hunting dog, I reach out with my hand and pull the thing off of her neck. Clenching my fist, it turns into a greasy smear in my gauntlet.

  The woman’s eyes become unfocused and she collapses in a screaming mess. I step over her as the others begin firing and turn on my external microphone. “Unit Two, kill their bugs.”

  Mentioning her name might bring way too many superheroes running, so we’ll play robots instead of people in armor. Her mental bolts start frying the insects. Some actually detach and start fleeing, leaving their hosts screaming. It’s tempting to gloat, but instead I divert a few of the robots and grab the discarded weapons. Just because Stacy didn’t attempt suicide doesn’t mean these guys and gals won’t.

  Behind the policemen are just regular people armed with whatever they could grab. This could get real ugly, real fast. Aphrodite’s bolts drop a bunch in their tracks as I do my best not to permanently injure them. “Save your energy. Let the suit do the work for you.”

  “But, I might hurt them,” she protests over our internal frequency.

  “You’ll need your strength when the supers get here. Don’t argue.”

  Long minutes pass and hundreds of bugs die along with people receiving assorted bruises and broken bones, but suddenly the throngs turn and begin to walk or crawl away in a most orderly fashion. That can only mean one thing.

  “Here they come!” Aphrodite gestures to the tiny flame in the otherwise misty night. It’s Apollo’s chariot and probably most of her old team.

  “All robots, attack the Olympians!” Wow! That sure does sound cheesy.

  My reluctant teammate calls out a warning, “Heads up, Hermes is coming in fast.”

  The speedster tears through a pack of slow moving drones, smashing them with her metal rod. The mud is slowing her down a little, but she’s making a beeline straight for me. I fire my pulse rifle at the ground separating us, spraying the wet earth in her way. A messy, muddy, and hopefully blind mass comes hurtling out of the plume of muck at high-speed, careening recklessly. I trigger the destruct sequence on the three nearest bots and let the shockwave knock her around a bit.