But not today.
When Rose topped the steps and made her way down the long corridor toward the main area, she was struck by the lack of noise. The silence was heavy—too heavy. The absence of any sound was eerie in this place normally teeming with enormous amounts of energy. The clicking of her boots reverberated in the empty corridor. No doubt everyone gathered inside heard her approaching.
And she was right.
When she appeared, framed in the entrance to the inner sections of bleachers that encircled the large field in the center of the area, hundreds of eyes greeted her. She ran her hand through her hair and gave her head a slight toss to one side before she began to descend the steps. She enjoyed the attention, and she relished in the knowledge that everyone in this assemblage feared her now more than ever. She would soon be the undisputed queen of crime. Her heart beat fast. She was giddy with anticipation. All she had to do was endure this sham of a memorial service then her reign could begin.
By the time she reached the last step and made her way onto the field, a low murmur of voices rose up around her. They were talking about her, and that was fine. That’s what she’d wanted when she made her grand entrance. She wanted to make her presence known, and she had. For now, that would suffice. And besides, the man she needed to see was standing, hunched over, a few yards in front of her. She stopped, pulled at her gloves, and readjusted the belt around her waist. A sudden wave of nervousness hit her.
The man in her sights stood slumped over next to the marbled cremation urn. He wore a long white lab coat, dark khaki pants, and simple black shoes. A framed picture of the guest of honor set next to the urn he cautiously guarded. As she got closer, her eyes darted from the hunchbacked man to the face in the photo. For so long, these two had been a united force. Whenever you saw one, you always saw the other. He looked up when Rose reached him.
“Rossse,” he said through the frown on his shallow face. “You came. I’m ssso glad you did.” His voice was low, nothing more than a whisper. And when he spoke, he hissed the letter ‘s’ like a snake.
“Of course I’d be here,” she said, reaching for him with her arms opened for an embrace. He recoiled. Rose lowered her arms. She hadn’t really expected him to accept her hug. He was timid. Everyone knew that, but comforting hugs were the expectation during times like these. “How are you holding up, Simon?”
The use of his first name shocked him. No one but his boss had ever used his real name. She could tell it’d gotten to him by the way he jerked his head and quickly straightened his shoulders. Point for her.
“I misss him already. He wasss my only friend.”
“Yes, I know. I can’t imagine how you must feel.” Rose glanced over her shoulder at the collection of criminals sitting in rows. They barely filled one section of seats. There’d been a time when the Villains of this city outnumbered the Heroes. There was a time when fear was the norm. She smiled. Those days would soon return once she took charge. Those pathetic protesters on the streets outside had better enjoy their last hurrah. They’d be the first ones to go. Somebody would have to be the example. Who better than them?
Simon lowered his head again and looked at the picture. He rubbed his hand across the urn as if he were dusting it. Rose watched him carefully. Such a display of genuine sadness would touch most people, but for her, nothing. She was too concerned with convincing Simon to join her. She knew she’d need him in her corner once she transitioned to power. He had been privy to all the Scientist’s secrets, all his knowledge. Rose wanted that for herself. If left untethered, Simon could prove disastrous to her plans.
“I think we should start, don’t you?” she asked him. “I don’t imagine this motley crew will keep for long.” Rose motioned with her head to the group seated behind her. She’d hold off on asking Simon to join her until after the service. Timing and approach were crucial in matters of succession. He nodded, but didn’t move. “Surely you’re not going to stand next to his ashes the entire time.”
“Yesss. That’sss exactly what I plan to do.”
Rose chose not to press the issue. There were bigger battles to fight. She’d already established contact and began to lay the groundwork to win him over by her obvious show of compassion. That, and she’d called him by his first name. That was a powerfully devious move. In doing so, she’d shown him her desire for a more intimate, friendly relationship. She walked around, climbed the few steps to the temporary platform, and stood behind the podium. The weight of all those eyes fell on her.
“My friends,” she said, lifting her head high as she scanned the crowd. “Or perhaps I should say fiends.” A low roll of laughter rippled through the mourners. Rose smiled, feigning empathy with them. “Who would’ve ever thought we’d be here to say farewell to the most vile villain ever to plague this city we all call home?”
She opened the folder that had been left on the podium for her and retrieved the single piece of paper from inside. It was the official press release that had gone out after the Sinister Scientist’s death. She closed the folder and set the announcement down before resting her hands on either side of the podium. She gripped the sides of the slanted wooden surface with her gloved fingers. She loved the scrunching sound of real leather. She looked down and read the words to the crowd:
THE SINISTER SCIENTIST
Genius—Risk Taker—Mastermind
After decades of unparalleled research and masterful manipulation of the known universe, the Sinister Scientist was found dead by his most trusted and loyal assistant. The cause of death was unintentionally self-inflicted during a fatal experiment attempting to achieve true immortality. His life may have been cut short but his legacy of intellect and unwavering desire for power will no doubt live forever.
Rose paused when the applause began. It was softer and less enthusiastic than she’d expected. She flipped her hair away from her face and looked over at Simon. He was still standing guard over the urn. He never looked up at her, nor did he make any attempt to view the faces of the mourners in the crowd. He kept his head down. The only thing he looked at was the urn. How pathetic, Rose thought. Once I woo him and get what I want, he’ll have to go. No one as weak and sentimental as that could ever serve me.
Once the applause died down, she continued. “Let us not mourn the passing of this great man. Nor should we allow any Hero or citizen to downplay his life and his contributions to this thriving city. Sure,” she halfway laughed, “he terrorized them. We all did, but his scientific discoveries also served to help many. I don’t know of anyone among us who will ever fill his shoes.”
“Rose!” Someone shouted her name.
“Yes, you. You can lead us!”
Again, thunderous applause rose up and filled the arena. She closed her eyes and bathed in the adoration of her villainous brethren. Shouts and cheers encircled her. Yes, yes, they want me. They recognize my authority and they acknowledge my power. She opened her eyes and looked out at them. Everyone was on their feet in standing ovation and praise for her. She glanced at Simon, and this time, he looked back at her. The grief had run from his face. An expression of anger and disbelief had replaced the sadness in his eyes. Rose shrugged her shoulders at him.
She lifted her arms and patted her hands in the air to hush the cheers. Simon had turned his body and now faced her directly. The urn he’d been so intent on guarding was at his back, as was the horde of mourners who were now quiet and seated once again. Rose lowered her hands and winked at Simon. He didn’t move. He stood immobilized by his anger. The only hint of any reaction was in his frail, tiny hands hanging at his sides that he slowly balled into tight fists.
Either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care.
“I’m touched,” she said, putting her hand against her chest, “by your overwhelming show of support and confidence in my abilities to follow in the Scientist’s footsteps. But,” she glanced down at Simon, “this is neither the time nor the place to discuss these matters. We are here to honor the legacy of o
ne of the greatest criminal geniuses of our time.”
“Of any time!” The shout came from Simon. His sudden outburst startled Rose and surprised the rest of the crowd. He began to move slowly toward her and now she saw the white knuckles of his trembling clinched fists. “The thingsss he did, the lawsss of nature he massstered and then broke, the rulesss he rewrote, the fear and chaosss were nothing ssshort of miraculousss.” Simon pointed at Rose then spun around and pointed at those seated in the stadium. “None of you here could ever hold a candle to hisss level of geniusss.”
He appeared hysterical. Perhaps none of them had known the depth of his loyalty for his boss. Perhaps none of them cared. Rose moved quickly from behind the podium and went down to him. She stopped just short of invading his personal space. “Simon,” she said his name softly, the tone of her voice almost sounding sincere. He took two steps away from her. His muscles tensed even more now that she was so close again. He didn’t trust her. “Simon, would you like to say a few words.” She gestured to the empty podium.
He relaxed his hands. “Me? Sssay sssomething to them?” He looked nervously over his shoulder at the sea of criminals staring intently; each of them watching every move he made. He reacted like a trapped and frightened animal. Rose eased closer to him, and this time, he didn’t retreat.
“Sure,” said Rose. “Why not? After all, you knew him better than any of us. Come on, I’ll go with you.” She extended her hand, but he stood, seemingly paralyzed, frozen to the spot by fear and panic. “Come, come,” she encouraged. “It’ll do you good to say something.”
The gathering began to clap again, but this time their applause was for him. Simon glanced at them briefly before turning back to face Rose. Her hand was still there, outstretched, waiting for him to take it. The two of them made eye contact and for a moment he felt true compassion coming from her. She smiled then winked at him. He slowly reached out and grasped her hand.
She led him to the podium. Simon carefully watched her every move. He didn’t trust her, even in this seemingly genuine moment of affection. The applause continued, rhythmically, until he was standing next to Rose. He leaned in closer to her and whispered, “You’re sssure about thisss? I don’t think it’sss appropriate for me to ssspeak here.”
Rose answered with a slight grin then faced the audience. “Colleagues in crime,” she said. “While I am overcome with such pride that you feel I’m best to lead in the great void created by our dear Scientist’s death, I’m afraid that the one man closest to him has much to say on the matter. In fact, perhaps it needs to be said, here, now, in front of all of you.” She cut her eyes back to Simon. “I would not want to begin my tenure as your leader with any objections left unspoken.” Simon tensed again, and Rose noticed it. She leaned back and covered the microphone with her hand. “They’re all yoursss.”
She mocked him with that last word.
Simon gulped, wishing he could swallow his speech impediment. All his life, he’d struggled with the way he pronounced words and made certain sounds. He’d been bullied and teased for it. Kids had been merciless. Adults had been worse. But not the Scientist. He was the only person who accepted him as he was. Simon inhaled then stepped up to the microphone.
He opened his mouth and prepared to speak, but his voice refused to cooperate. It was frozen, paralyzed by the sudden cold grip of emotions as he scanned the familiar sea of distrustful faces. There are moments in life when time seems to stop, when everything becomes crystal clear and the memories of a lifetime come flooding back in a single second of time. Simon was having one of those moments now as he stood there and pushed back against the weight of a thousand eyes.
He recalled the early days in the laboratory when the Scientist was just beginning his life of crime. He was a young researcher living a life of solitude. His only friends were formulas, mathematical computations, and bizarre experiments conducted in the obscure hours of the night. The scientific community had ostracized him—called him a madman and sociopath—for his crimes against nature. But he didn’t care. He didn’t need them or their approval. He had his one true friend, the only person he trusted with all his knowledge: Simon.
It had been Simon since the beginning. It was he who recorded every detail of every experiment. He alone knew the secrets of the immense labs and all the rooms in the Sinister Scientist’s many hidden facilities. Only Simon knew the workings of the equipment and the schedule for feeding the hideous beasts created by DNA tampering that were kept as bizarre pets deep within the bowels of the city. And it was Simon who’d been there on that fateful day when the Scientist died. The memories continued to roll in and crash over him in huge tidal waves of emotions.
Simon recalled the Scientist’s rise to power with his toxic weapons and poisonous concoctions that threatened to kill nearly every citizen of the city. Even the Heroes with all their great strength and power were unable to stand against him. One by one, with Simon’s help, he’d discovered each of their weaknesses and harnessed those discoveries into weapons. Many of the city’s mightiest heroes lost their lives in battle against him. His brain was tougher than their brawn. The Scientist made knowledge his ultimate power and no physical strength could touch him.
And Simon had witnessed it all. He had been there, every step of the way, helping and serving, making observations and suggestions, and all the time learning from his master. He grew in his own knowledge. He began to see the world like the Scientist. He began to wonder and ask questions, and soon those wonderings became a mad thirst demanding to be quenched. In secret, he studied and learned, and in time, his intellect surpassed that of the Scientist.
Simon began to experiment on his own, stealing the notes and journals from the Scientist’s personal library. He crept about the city, shrouded in the shadows, committing crimes and causing shockwaves of panic and fear. All evidence of his criminal activities led the Heroes and the authorities to the Scientist. Simon had hoped that once confronted with these mysterious crimes the Scientist would become irate, nervous, the idea of someone else staking a claim on his territory making him careless.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, he took credit for the crimes. He boasted about the sheer genius behind the incredibly malicious attacks and perversions of scientific knowledge. Fear of him grew as his false claims spread throughout the city. People were terrified and the other villains were in a constant state of awe. Simon was furious. His anger grew strong and dark. Soon, jealously took control and his desire to be the feared one grew to uncontrollable heights. To that end, he decided that the time had come to make his mark.
The Scientist was close to making his ultimate discovery, one that would stop the aging process, making him immortal. For years, Simon had helped him gather materials from the far corners of the earth. Together they read and translated ancient recipes from long-dead civilizations. They pored over myths and legends, tales of fountains of youth and pools of water that granted bathers eternal life. But in the end, it was all a matter of mathematics and physics; a simple formula combined with the correct elements was all that was necessary to stop death in its tracks. With this discovery, the Sinister Scientist stood not only to dominate the city but the entire world. Simon was not going to let that happen.
It’d be easy enough to stop him. All he’d have to do would be to change one of the ingredients or switch the numbers in one of the many algorithms. By doing so, he could alter the formula, change the desired outcome so that it would rapidly age the Scientist, not make him immortal. And when he was suddenly old and decrepit, Simon would finally look him in the eye and tell him everything. The Scientist would realize at last who the true master was.
Simon was meticulous in his planning. He left no room for error, carefully taking notes and committing the formulas to memory so that when he made the changes, he’d know exactly what to do. He could leave no trace of his tampering, no trail of evidence leading back to him. He had to make it look like a horrific accident. He spent weeks calculating, rehe
arsing, and laying the groundwork for his silent coup. His boss would never know what hit him until it was all over and he sat helplessly by and witnessed his feeble assistant rise to power. Oh, the humiliation he’d feel at the loss of his reputation and his status.
But on the day it happened—the day it was supposed to happen—Simon made an error. In his impatient anger and his blind drive for revenge, he misread his own calculations and made a fatal change to the experiment. It was no more than a single digit, one number in a line of hundreds, but it was the one digit that ultimately killed its intended victim. Simon stood and watched as the Scientist indeed aged, but he aged rapidly without stopping, until he was nothing more than a pile of bones and paper-thin skin.
The panic he felt was short-lived as he moved quickly into cover-up mode. He’d have to spin the story in his favor. Time had run out on him. If he wanted to claim the now vacant criminal crown, he’d have to strike fast, and what better way to come out of the shadows than in the wake of his dear master’s tragic death. Yes, yes, it’d be so perfect. In his obvious state of grief, he’d reveal his true intellect and evil prowess. He’d show them all how he could assume control and further their criminal agenda. It’d be the ultimate underdog story. It would work.
And it would’ve worked had it not been for her.
Now, here Simon stood at the podium next to the only person who could prevent him from taking his rightful place as the city’s crime overlord. He glared at her before he began to speak.
“The ssscientissst wasss my friend and it breaksss my heart to be here today.” Simon spoke slowly, working to keep his true feelings in check. He had to make sure the time was right. He couldn’t afford another mistake. All the pieces he needed were in place. If he messed up again, Rose would win, and he refused to spend the rest of his life as a lackey to the likes of her. Those days were over. “My outburssst wasss unecessssary. Pleassse forgive me.”
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