Tournament of Supervillainy

by Phipps, C. T.

  She conjured a glowing ball of balefire above her head as I knelt down before her, my chest sizzling. “First of all, Lady, I am no one’s Lord. I’m a Jewish kid from the suburbs. Second of all… Ed Boon taught me everything I needed to know about surviving this battle.”

  “Who?” Magnifisense asked.

  “Google it!” I shouted, giving her a magic enhanced uppercut to the jaw and sending her flying into the acidic green goop beside me. “Merciless wins. Fatali—”

  That was when Magnifisense’s skin melted off to reveal an insect-like carapace underneath burst out of the goop with a pair of giant dragonfly wings buzzing behind her. She also had an enormous bee-like stinger.

  “Ah hell,” I said.

  “The power of the immortals flows through me!” Magnifisense hissed.

  I promptly froze her in a block of ice that went crashing down into the goop once more. I didn’t think it would hold her for long but I wanted to give myself some breathing room for figuring out how to finish her off. I had one weapon that I knew could kill gods but it wasn’t a very practical device since I’d gotten it back from death: the Reaper’s Scythe. Man, did I long for the days when I had two guns.

  “Prepare to die, traitor!” the Cackler said, letting loose a peal of loopy insane sounding laughs.

  I turned around to see the Cackler had already managed to rip off large portions of Diabloman’s magical armor and was presently trying to strangle him. Diabloman had struck him numerous times with Caliburn but the Abaddon demigod was healing every blow almost as quickly as they’d been struck.

  “Yo, Krusty!” I shouted, throwing a fireball at his face. “Pick on someone your own size!”

  The Cackler growled and opened his mouth before a torrent of inky-blackness shot forth. If darkness could be said to have a physical substance, it would take this form. I turned insubstantial and disappeared under the floor before grabbing his feet then pulling him halfway down giving Diabloman a moment to swing and decapitate the deity in one blow. Diabloman then kicked the Cackler’s head into the goop beside us.

  I came up behind the now headless Cackler. “Flawless victory!”

  The now-headless Cackler’s form broke through the stone he’d been entrapped in and ripped up a slab of the floor before swinging at Diabloman’s head. Diabloman managed to duck, only for the Cackler to kick him in the hand and send Caliburn flying into the acidic goop beyond.

  “Oh yeah, Guinevere is going to be pissed about that,” I muttered then remembered whose property I just lost. “Eh, I can live with that.”

  Diabloman proceeded to punch, kick, and grapple with the monster even as I knew it was a pointless gesture. The headless thing attacking him was nothing more than the big toe of the real monster inhabiting a corpse.

  “I really hope this is a good idea,” I muttered, walking over to the headless monster and reaching into the insubstantial place before worlds before pulling out the gigantic multi-eyed orb thing that came out and landed behind me. It splattered on the ground before turning into an oozing tree-stalk with a thousand mouths, so I decided the creature’s true form was less from Stephen King’s imagination than H.P. Lovecraft’s crossed with H.R. Giger’s. It extended outward hundreds of tentacles that seemed to bend reality around them while my vision struggled to comprehend its true form.

  “You will be dead by dawn!” the Cackler’s true form howled with a thousand slit-like mouths.

  “Yeah,” I said, gesturing toward him. “I don’t think so.”

  I proceeded to blast the Cackler with every ounce of fire inside me, drawing on the raw necromantic power of the island that was greater here than anywhere else on Earth (if we even were still on Earth). The Cackler’s mouths let out a scream that threatened to shatter my ear drums but only encouraged me to blast the monster harder. The monster’s true form wasn’t the size of a person, it turned out, but a small city. It just existed in five or six different dimensions simultaneously that were all closing in around me. Too bad for it I had more than enough flame for a state. The Cackler’s last words were some sort of incantation but it wasn’t able to finish because I eradicated it body, mind, and soul. “Hail to the King, baby.”

  “Is it dead?” Diabloman asked, coughing behind me.

  I stared at the dark stain on the ground where the Cackler had once been. His headless body had dropped to the ground like its puppet strings had been cut. “Yeah, I think it is dead. It’s not the first god I’ve killed and probably won’t be the last.”

  Seriously, I’d faced a surprisingly large amount of hellish deities in my short time as a supervillain. Magog, Adonis, Zul-Barbas, and these two. It was enough to give a man a complex until I reminded myself it was actually Death’s power that had defeated them rather than my own. Also, it had been the Nightwalker’s job to keep reality clear of the multiverse’s various eldritch abominations. That was a job that still needed a replacement and I was wholly unqualified to take up. I should get on finding someone for that—maybe start by seeking teenagers with attitudes.

  Diabloman laughed only to stop in mid speech. I saw his body turn to stone before my eyes. Where once my friend stood I only saw a fossilized statue. Behind him, having broken free from the ice was Magnifisense. She was covered in a bit of frost but had managed to shake herself free of the frozen tomb I’d imprisoned her in.

  I stared at her. “Turn him back.”

  “Foolish human,” Magnifisense said. “It is not like fairy tale. Turning person to stone is like turning them to ash. Easy to do but impossible to reverse.”

  I screamed at her and tried to blast her but only a tiny bit of flame shot forth that she easily deflected. She then turned insubstantial herself and passed through the statue before I found myself frozen in the same sort of icy block I’d imprisoned others in. I couldn’t breathe, see, or move.

  Until I turned insubstantial and reached into Magnifisense’s head then popped the pen on the Reaper’s Scythe. She exploded as the six foot long weapon detonated inside her. The glowing weapon then sucked up her soul, taking it to whatever dimension my master imprisoned evil bee women. Vengeance was a poor substitute for Diabloman’s loss.

  “I am sorry, Merciless,” Diabloman said.

  I turned around and saw the ghost of my friend, standing there, without his mask on. He was a tall Hispanic man with a goatee and a shaved head. A tattoo of a red devil was on his scalp and he was wearing his wrestling attire.

  “No,” I said, staring at him. “It’s my fault. Don’t worry, I’ve got a wish coming my way and I’ll get you restored.”

  “No,” Diabloman said, his voice low.

  “What?” I asked staring at him.

  “I died fighting to save this world,” Diabloman said, raising his hand. “I have been searching for a good death since I met you. I do not know if this is sufficient atonement for what I have done. I do not know if there is anything I could do that is sufficient atonement for what I have done but I have done my best.”

  “What about your family?” I asked, looking at him. “They need you.”

  Diabloman looked down. “They do not. I spent less and less time with them as the years passed because I was afraid I would ruin them. My wife and I have not spoken in six months.”

  “Oh, Merciful Moses, I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t know.”

  “Look after my daughter when she comes to you to become a hero, Gary,” Diabloman said.

  “I will,” I said, noting he called me by my regular name. “You were my best—”

  Diabloman screamed as his ghost swirled around before retreating into the hand of Entropicus the God Emperor of Abaddon. The seven foot tall warlord was standing over the Cackler’s ashes with his hand extended.

  “I think Diabloman is making a mistake,” Entropicus said, curtly. “Thankfully, he will not need to make any decisions ever again. His spirit will join the ranks of my legions and help me administrate the new order.”

  I assumed a figh
ting stance. “Okay, Space Satan, fuck you! You want to throw down? Let’s throw down!”

  “Ha ha!” Entropicus laughed. “Not until the end of the tournament, boy.”

  He vanished.

  “Mother puss bucket,” I said, getting up off the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Gary,” Death said behind me.

  I didn’t turn around. “Why did you let him take away Diabloman?”

  “My power is still his until he renounces me and the souls of the dead are his to claim just like they are yours,” Death said, her voice low. “It is also a matter of judgment. Diabloman’s murders are in the hundreds of trillions thanks to his destruction of the previous universe. While most of those souls were reincarnated, he is still responsible for the greatest karmic debt in history. Nothing he has done, or could do, can make up for the horrors he has committed.”

  “So, he’s damned no matter what,” I said.

  “That has yet to be determined,” Death said, her voice soft. “I know he was your friend—”

  “Can it,” I said, risking the wrath of my patron. “What’s his punishment?”

  “That has yet to be determined but Entropicus can devise whatever tortures he wants,” Death said. “It is within his purview to punish the souls of the guilty. They were given unto him to bring about a sense of justice to the treatment of souls. That a mortal would be the one determining their fate.”

  I had been less than pleased to find out hell was a real thing. I’d never been inclined to believe eternal punishment was something a good god could contribute to. Death wasn’t a good god but she was better than most. Finding out she’d given souls to a monster like Entropicus, who certainly didn’t qualify as mortal in my opinion, lowered my opinion of her tremendously.

  “I’ll get D back.”

  “We’ve done this dance before, Gary,” Death said.

  “Yeah and it got me Mandy back,” I said, trying not to remember it had been Merciful, not me, who had restored her. To this day, I still didn’t know why he did it and Death had been tight lipped.

  “As you wish,” Death said. “You have, of course, free will to do as you like.”

  That was a cop-out answer if I’d ever heard one. “Okay, you’re going to have to tell me why I’m actually here because I know it can’t be here to win the tournament. I’ve pulled off some stunning upsets over the years but this is like playing Dan Hibiki in tournament mode. Which, if you have no idea about fighting games, is a crappy character. Fun but crappy.”

  “This is an intervention,” Death said, surprising me with a straight answer.

  I paused. “An intervention?”

  “For Destruction,” Death said, her voice low. “Our brother is willing to abide by the rules of the Eternity Tournament but pressing him too far is likely to result in him lashing out.”

  I finally turned around, looking at Death who didn’t remotely look like Mandy now. Instead, she looked like a goth version of the weredeer girl.

  “New look?” I said.

  “I like to mix it up,” Death said, her eyes completely black with no irises. “Destruction has the potential to reduce all of creation to ruins and force us to begin again, assuming it doesn’t lead to our ends as well. You are here not to be a weapon but as part of my efforts to convince him reality is worth fighting for.”

  “My best friend dying and being sent to hell is not filling me with joie de vivre.” I tried not to think about what Entropicus might be doing to him now. Soul-theft was one of the grossest and vilest abuses of magic anyone could engage in. I was a real son of a bitch but there was no way I would touch it with a ten-foot pole.

  “No,” Death replied. “I imagine it is not. Nevertheless, I have faith you will be able to make things entertaining for our brother.”

  “So, the universe’s survival is dependent on whether or not a god finds my misery amusing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I regret Cindy got the chance to be the one to say that explains a lot about the universe.” I stood up. “On a scale of one to one billion, just what are my chances of doing whatever is needed to save everything?”

  “I won’t tell you the odds,” Death said.

  “That bad, huh?” I asked.

  Death nodded. “Entropicus has managed to persuade Destruction he can end all of the problems of the multiverse and make things perpetually interesting. It is the only thing keeping our brother from doing something unspeakable. However, I believe there are other ways of shaking him from his madness.”

  “Like?”

  “Love.”

  I closed my eyes. “Mine or yours?”

  But she was gone when I opened my eyes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHERE I THINK ABOUT MY LOSSES

  I sat on the edge of one of the castle’s ramparts while staring at the sunset. The tournament was continuing below, dozens of fighters having been eliminated one by one. Two of Entropicus’ champions were gone but that was a hollow victory since it had cost me my best friend. I’d lost people before, Cloak was always on my mind, but Diabloman’s loss was worse. I’d brought him to this place and now he was gone. It was the inevitable result of the life I’d chosen to live where every battle was another chance to die. I’d stupidly ignored that for years and the odds had finally caught up with me.

  Mandy, Cindy, and Gabrielle had all tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t say anything to them because they had their own battles to fight. I sat there, watching them, and wondered if Entropicus would rig the fights to get more of my loved one’s killed.

  Weirdly, Mandy seemed the most affected by Diabloman’s death despite their recent estrangement. She’d gone full vamp, smashing up her room, and then channeling her energy into fighting her next opponent. She ended up winning against a hulking behemoth version of Frankenstein’s Creature, despite him being much-much stronger. It was like a super-fast version of Bambi beat up Godzilla, except Jane wasn’t involved.

  Cindy ended up fighting a sadistic serial killer dressed like a clown (what was with monster clowns here?). Gabrielle punched down a flying brick of a woman who sported a weird diamond shaped crest with a letter in it. Everyone had won on my team. Which meant they had another chance to die.

  “Yo, Merciless,” Jane said, coming up behind you. “You got a moment of time?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “You win?”

  Jane nodded. “Yeah, I won against a legally distinct and completely not copyright violating version of Freddy Krueger.”

  I blinked. “Like Robert Englund or the new guy?”

  “There’s only Robert Englund,” Jane said, climbing on top of the parapet beside me. “G managed to win against a man called Mechani-Cal.”

  “You mean Mechani-Carl,” I corrected her. “The C-List Supervillain guy.”

  “Whatever,” Jane said. “Guinevere and Prismatic Commando fought a tag team bout against the Darden Valley Guardian and a witch named Coven.”

  “Anyone die?” I asked.

  “No,” Jane said, looking uncomfortable with the reminder the winners had the option of murdering the losers. “Though I’ve seen plenty of blood spilled by the bad guys this tournament. Five or six heroes killed and another half-dozen villains.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “This is not going to help the realities they come from.”

  “Yeah,” Jane said. “Honestly, if they’d taken anyone else other than me from my world then losing them would have been a good thing. My world is full of superpowered assholes who do evil but has no one to fight them.”

  “Really?” I asked, thinking I might need to find some new digs. I wasn’t sure I could return to my world after this. I couldn’t face Diabloman’s daughter and tell her I’d gotten her father killed and damned. “No superheroes on your world?”

  Jane took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. “No.”

  “Must be nice,” I said, only half-joking.

  Jane snorted. “Not in the slightest. It’s a world of vampires, demon
s, warlocks, and witches with almost everyone using their powers for selfish gain. The only people who fight them are hunters and they don’t care if you are a good supernatural or a bad supernatural. They just kill you because you are. Shamans like me are among the few people who straddle the fence, trying to bring peace between the various factions.”

  “Is it worth it?” I asked. “Trying to bring peace, I mean?”

  I often felt like that was my role. I wanted to live in a colorful world of supervillains and heroes but not the one I was currently living in. I wanted to live in a place where superheroes were good but not zealots and supervillains were dastardly but not evil. Killing the worst on both sides had made things slightly better for a time but it seemed the balance was totally screwed now. Hell, Guinevere was mean now. What did that say about the world?

  “No idea,” Jane said, shrugging. “It’s who I am, though, and who he is. I also like living and that’s why I’m here trying to save everything.”

  I grunted, acknowledging her words. “Ever wonder if the afterlife is better?”

  “I’m a witch as well as a shapechanger so I know it exists,” Jane said. “But I’m not eager to explore the other side.”

  “I’ve sent tens of thousands of ghosts to the other side,” I said, thinking about my side job as a psychopomp. “So many millions of spirits clinging to life on this side because they’re afraid of the other world. It makes me wonder what’s so great about this one.”

  “Familiarity breeds contentment,” Jane said, turning around the old phrase. “But this side has stuff like sex, chocolate, and video games.”

  I nodded. “I suppose it does.”

  I wanted to hear more about her reality because the multiverse was looking like a good place to explore after this was done. I’d visited other worlds as well as other times in my career as a supervillain, however I’d never contemplated leaving my current one. The constant battles between good and evil were starting to wear on my soul. A reality where none of the local superhumans gave a shit about helping the world was appealing, even if it did sound like my old World of Darkness tabletop roleplaying-game campaigns.