Tournament of Supervillainy

by Phipps, C. T.

  “We’re in an unstable temporal universe,” Leia said, cheerfully. “This is due to the massive amount of time travel and divine intervention we have in our reality. As such, the timeline actually alters so events and years become merged. You only spent a year imprisoned underground now and I suspect it’ll get smaller in the future. Your memories will change, too. I call it the Theory of External Retcons.”

  I blinked. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever—”

  Weirdly, I remembered raising Leia for most of her childhood.

  “Huh,” I said, pausing. “Well, I’m not going to complain about it.”

  “Does this mean I’m older or younger?” Cindy asked, looking over at me. “I feel like this is an important question.”

  “It’s not,” Diabloman said, making a grumbling noise. “Gary, you have already left a positive legacy. You’ve stopped Tom Terror from escaping, killed a Great Beast, stopped World War 3, and saved Falconcrest City from an enlightened dictatorship.”

  “Plus, you made Opposite Earth,” Cindy said, looking at the menu. “Not many supervillains can say they’ve one-upped God.”

  Opposite Earth was an exact replica of our planet that existed on the other side our planetary rotation around the Sun. It had been created by Cloak sacrificing himself to turn all of Merciful’s necromantic energy to a positive end. I swear, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

  “All true,” I said, sighing. “But what do I have to show for it?”

  “A beautiful family,” Diabloman said.

  “A chain of pizzerias that has walls stuffed with loot and equipment,” Cindy said.

  “A planet because if you hadn’t done it, the world would be gone,” Leia said.

  “All true,” I said, annoyed at their logic. “But the magic is gone. It’s just not the same without Cloak. Worse, I don’t really think I see the point of being a supervillain anymore. I’m not making any progress toward taking over the world and the majority of my fellow villains are scumbags.”

  “Who possibly could have seen that development?” Cindy muttered.

  Diabloman shook his head.

  “The heroes aren’t much better,” Leia said, surprising me. “Remember, I’m a telepath so I know that. A lot of them are burnt out or angry about past injustices. Only a few of them are motivated by the desire to do good.”

  I placed my right hand over my heart. “Which is why I’m considering becoming a hero.”

  Now there were gasps at the table.

  “You can’t do that, Gary!” Cindy said, her expression one of pure horror. “They’ll really take away my v-card if you do that.”

  I stared at her. “Cindy, I think you lost that when you were fourteen. You helped me with mine not much later.”

  “I mean villain card!” Cindy said, wrinkling her cute little nose.

  “Ew,” Leia said, scrunching up her nose. “Parents referencing sex should be outlawed.”

  I pointed at her. “You’re far too young to know sex exists, super intelligent telepathic girl or not. I forbid you to know anything about it until you’re sixty.”

  “First, dad, biology means this won’t be a problem for about nine more years. Boys are still icky to me.” Leia stared at me. “Second, do you want me to drool and drink from a sippy cup? I’m almost six.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, clearly you’re an adult,” I said before reaching into my pocket. “Oh, by the way, here’s your present.”

  I plopped the Time Cube on the front of the table.

  Leia’s eyes lit up like Christmas before she grabbed it. “A Time Cube, sweet! With this, the power of the gods will be mine!”

  “That’s why we spent two weeks planning on stealing?” Cindy asked. “A present for your daughter.”

  “Our daughter,” I corrected.

  “Oh yeah,” Cindy paused as if thinking. “I mean, seriously, children don’t need presents. You just give them a box or sit them in front of the television. It’s how I was raised.”

  I stared at her, opened my mouth then closed it. “Uh-huh.”

  Cindy shook her head. “You should be thinking of what’s important about that Time Cube thingy.”

  “Which is?” I asked, uninterested.

  “Selling it for money!” Cindy said, throwing her hands up in the air.

  “I think becoming a superhero is a good idea,” Diabloman said, ignoring Cindy. “Being a hero will help you achieve redemption for the many sins you have committed.”

  “Do not help him with this stupid plan.” Cindy pointed at Diabloman. “Do you know what heroes do? They give away money! They do things without expectation of thanks! They heroically sacrifice themselves! I do not want Gary doing any of those things.”

  Cindy had done the hero thing herself for a few years after Mandy’s first death. It hadn’t worked out in the long run because Mandy was back and because Cindy would rather be a rich bad person than a poor good one. There was also the fact she’d lost her license to practice medicine due to operating on a superhuman kid to save his life. You needed special permission to do that, apparently, because society was full of bigots. I regretted that whole series of events because not only did I like Good Cindy more than Bad Cindy but I think Cindy did too.

  “Have you talked about this with Mandy yet?” Diabloman asked.

  “No,” I said, frowning. “She’s been off in Karzakistan doing black ops missions for the Foundation since January.”

  “I don’t think that’s a real country,” Cindy said.

  “Well, neither is whatever nation she is in after she gets done with them,” I said. “Personally, I preferred when she was a superhero instead of a spy. The two professions are mutually exclusive.”

  “What? Lying and murder aren’t very good for superheroes to do?” Cindy said, faking shock. “You don’t say. Next you’ll tell me being a vampire is a bad thing.”

  “Funny,” I said, deciding on getting the stuffed crust super-meat pizza with extra meat. “Except not.”

  Honestly, I was happy for Mandy because she’d finally managed to get the job she’d wanted since she was a child but on her terms. As a vampire, she had the ability to do things that normal people couldn’t. The fact real-life vampires didn’t have to worry about sunlight also contributed to her being the perfect undead operative. Unfortunately, she hadn’t kept her pre-mortem sweetness and spent long periods away from home killing who knew who on behalf of the Foundation for World Harmony’s Security Council. She also associated with arms dealers, secret police, and state-sponsored terrorists. Was it hypocritical that I disliked her hanging around those sorts of people when I was a self-styled supervillain? Yeah, it probably was, and maybe that was part of the reason why I wanted out.

  There were other changes to her personality too. Weirdly, for whatever reason, Mandy refused to talk to Diabloman. Ever since she’d gotten her soul back and we’d dealt with Merciful, she’d avoided him like the plague. I had to ask him to take nights off to get some alone time with my life. Mandy’s interests had changed too, becoming darker and more Gothic. She’d even shifted her religion and was less interested in Wicca than Mexican folk magic. In some ways, her darker more sensuous personality suited our lives better but in others I wondered if I’d really gotten my wife back. Wow, that was a dark thought.

  “Second Mom is back,” Leia said, piping up. “She arrived about an hour ago.”

  “Really?” I said, smiling. “Well, that’s good.”

  “Maybe she can talk you out of this nonsense,” Cindy said, growling as she picked up the menu. “I need pineapple, small fishes, extra cheese, and other unhealthy things to help me cope with this.”

  “It’s a good idea, Cindy.”

  “Of course, it isn’t. I have to manage every single meal like…oh you mean becoming a superhero! Gary, have you forgotten why you became a supervillain?” Cindy asked, looking exasperated.

  “To honor my dead brother?”

  “Other than that!”
/>
  “Fame? Boredom? To strike at the corrupt institutions of society?” I asked.

  “Money!” Cindy said.

  “Which we have plenty of,” I pointed out. “Really, I feel a lot less animus against the 1% since I became part of it.”

  “You can never have too much money,” Cindy said, shaking her head. “Do I even know you anymore?”

  “Right.” I looked to my side and hoped Cindy would move. She didn’t. “Hey, Cindy, do you mind if I get up to go see Mandy?”

  “You can turn insubstantial,” Cindy said, giving our order to a waitress dressed like Ultragoddess.

  I sighed and did so, journeying through the various booths and passing through a number of customers who freaked out when I did so. “Don’t mind me, I’m a ghost.”

  “Cool!” An eleven-year-old boy shouted as his father looked traumatized by the experience.

  I arrived in the kitchen and passed by a number of masked criminals who were preparing the food. I made it a point of hiring nothing but prisoners at my business that, while it occasionally backfired, worked out well in the long run. Many of them were so grateful for their jobs, it made me feel guilty I’d originally hired them to have steady access to henchmen.

  “Hey boss. Did you get your time doohickey?” Bill the Thirteenth Shark asked, waving. He was the Thirteenth Shark because he used to be one of a gang of twenty-seven shark-suited criminals who served the Star Pirate. I hadn’t been aware henchmen had their own themes but a whole subculture existed. I was thinking of promoting him to regional manager but wasn’t sure he was crooked enough.

  “I did!” I said, waving to him. “Soon, the entire world will bow before me.”

  “Keep thinking positive,” Bill said.

  “Do you know where my wife is?” I asked.

  “Which one?” Bill said, ignoring the fact Cindy and I weren’t married.

  I really needed to get a handle on what language to use. “The one that drinks blood.”

  “Which one,” Bill said, chuckling.

  “Funny,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Out back,” Bill said. “I was married once. How do you keep up with multiple women in your life? I’d be afraid they’d team up.”

  “I don’t,” I said, walking out the back door. “I’m probably going to die before the end of the year.”

  “Hell of a way to go out,” Bill said.

  He wasn’t wrong. I called it the Rand Al’Thor method of suicide, which probably 5% of my autobiography’s readership would get. Anyway, as soon as I stepped out the door, I found myself in a trash-filled alleyway where Mandy was standing in fight position surrounded by ninjas. I blinked a couple of seconds to properly assess what I was looking at before realizing, yes, I was watching my wife fighting a bunch of ninjas.

  Mandy Karkofsky was a pale-skinned Eurasian woman in her perpetual early thirties with a short raven-colored bob, white shirt cut off at the middle, and a pair of black pants. Really, she looked a lot like Sonya Blade from Mortal Kombat as played by a Eurasian Kate Beckinsale. That should have clued me into what was going to be happening soon.

  The ninjas were all wearing colorful sets of shinobi shozuku (what you called ninja costumes in Japanese—albeit, the translation is basically “ninja costume”). There were red, blue, orange, yellow, and black ones. All of the costumes also sported samurai vests and face guards that made them look even more conspicuous. A few of them had katana, others chains with sickles on the end, and even more were carrying shotguns or pistols that just seemed like cheating. There were about a dozen of them and two were on the ground where Mandy had managed to take them down. I then saw two Foundation for World Harmony agents on the ground nearby, a man and a woman, who had been killed by stab wounds.

  Crap.

  “Hey guys, Ninja Night is Thursdays,” I said, staring at the group. “Remember, anyone who brings a turtle with them eats free.”

  “[There he is!]” One shouted in Japanese and pointed at me. “[Destroy him in the name of the Dark Lord!]”

  Yes, I can understand Japanese. Blame it on years of obsessive subtitled anime watching.

  None of the ninjas moved. It seemed like they were actually… afraid? Huh. It seemed like I was finally getting some respect for all the bad guys I’d killed. Plus some very-very jerkass good guys but I didn’t know how they counted.

  “Need any help?” I asked Mandy, cracking my knuckles. “Fighting ninjas is on my bucket list. I’ve already knocked off zombie apocalypses, kaiju, and killing non-Jewish gods.”

  “Given I was part of a group of three,” Mandy said, staring around. “Yeah, I would really appreciate some help right now.”

  “Well, this will be a snap to take care of,” I said, snapping my fingers and trying to set them on fire.

  Accent on trying.

  “Uh oh,” I said, staring at them.

  “[Fool!]” The head ninja said. “[We are protected by the power of Entropicus, Dark Lord of the Multiverse!]”

  “Good for you,” I said, elbowing a ninja beside me, grabbing his shotgun and shooting the head ninja in the chest.

  That was when, I shit you not, Carl Douglas’ “Kung Fu Fighting” started playing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  GO NINJITSU, GO NINJITSU GO

  I wasn’t the only one hearing Carl Douglas’ voice as all of the ninjas looked up, confused too. That was when Cindy and Diabloman walked out of the door I’d just come through, the former holding up a cellphone.

  “I just downloaded iThemeMusic as an app on my phone,” Cindy said, cheerfully. “It automatically provides the best possible theme music for superhuman throw-downs!”

  “[Kill them!]” Another ninja shouted.

  That was when the fight actually broke out. Smashing another ninja over the head with the now-useless shotgun, I proceeded to kick another in the groin before punching another in the face. I wasn’t what you’d call a master martial artist but having gotten my ass kicked repeatedly across the past year, I had picked up a decent amount of self-defense training through sheer survival. I also had been given several pointers by Mandy and Diabloman.

  Specifically:

  1. The object of the martial arts is to hurt the other guy.

  2. There is no such thing as cheating.

  Deprived of my fire and frost magic to directly affect them, I froze the ground underneath the ninjas and caused quite a few of them to slip or become unsteady on their feet. I grabbed a kukri knife from one of the fallen ones on the ground before stabbing one in the neck. I kicked that ninja’s dying form into a group of the slipping ninjas, sending them falling to the ground like bowling pins.

  One thing I noticed about these ninjas was the fact they disintegrated after they were killed. The ones on the ground at Mandy’s feet faded away like shadows in the sunlight while the ones I killed burned up like flaming paper. I tried to think of any superhumans who had the ability to create temporary ninjas before I was shot in the head.

  “Ow,” I said, falling backwards on my ass and suffering from an enormous headache. “That’s buried in my head. Ow. Just barely penetrated my super-tough skin but I am in a lot of pain. I can also taste sounds. Weird, a man screaming in pain is butterscotch.”

  “Die, Gaijin!” The ninja who shot me stood over me, raising his gun to my head for an even closer shot.

  The bullet popped out of my head and I slashed across his femoral artery, causing him to bleed out black fluid before dropping his gun. The ninja disappeared again, burning up like so much dried paper set on fire.

  “Okay, now these guys are just starting to piss me off,” I muttered, trying not to deal with the fact I’d just been shot in the head and was getting up. I knew my powers were growing but it seemed they were doing so in a way that involved making it easier for me to survive getting my ass kicked.

  Beside me, Cindy had taken out her enchanted ax and was slashing her way through the ninjas to the dance tune going on around us. Diabloman broke necks, tossed aro
und ninjas like ragdolls, and even crushed the heads of two together. Mandy kicked, punched, and even broke the neck of one with her thighs—a move I was certain she was doing for me because that couldn’t be an actual fighting move. A few of the remaining ninjas split in two to create more fodder to fight but they were taken out as well. Eventually, there was only one.

  Mandy advanced on the guy, who was standing there with his arms raised, but I put my hand in front of her. “No, there’s a narrative law about these things. It’s easy to kick the ass of a bunch of ninjas but as soon as you’re facing one, he’s going to be all sorts of badass.”

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “God, Gary, will you give the genre logic a rest! Not everything works like a movie.”

  Cindy and Diabloman charged at him before both came flying backwards, landing on the ground beside us.

  Mandy looked down then puckered her lips. “Why does the universe continue to prove you right when everything you say is stupid?”

  “Because the world is a stupid place,” I said, holding out my hands. “Duh.”

  “Silence!” the remaining ninja said in a thick Japanese accent.

  “Ah, so you do speak English,” I said, crossing my arms. “Okay, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing attacking my wife?”

  “I am Multi-Ninja!” the man spoke, his voice booming throughout the alleyway. “Interdimensional assassin! I am a one man army who is able to distribute his strength over many individuals at once.”

  I blinked. “Okay, that is both cool and silly. I will say, however, the guns were not cool. Real ninja should always stick to the katana, shuriken, sai, and quarterstaff theme. Female ninja, or kunoichi as they’re called, can use needle-tipped fans.”

  Multi-Ninja didn’t seem interested in my advice, though. “I have been hired by Entropicus to eliminate Earths’ greatest warriors in order to prepare the way for his victory in the Eternity Tournament.”

  “The what in the who now?” I asked, blinking.

  “Why go after Gary, then?” Cindy asked.

  “Hey!” I said, snapping at her. “I am on that list! Just not at the top of it. Maybe even close to the bottom but I am on the list of Earth’s greatest warriors.”