The Lavender Menace

by Tom Cardamone

  “Ah,” she nodded sympathetically. “Well, I don’t know this or that about saving the world and all. I’ll leave that to you do-gooders. But I do know a thing or two about swimming with the in-crowd. So here’s what you do.” She leaned forward, and as she whispered into Daytripper’s ear he actually forgot about Arachnid, and started to smile.

  The latest hit from genetically enhanced teen pop sensation Bedazzled blared from the speaker, fulfilling her mad scientist mother’s pageant daughter dreams with a mutant voice that was so over-synthesized technicians had to bring her levels back into the normal auditory range. Her dance remix of the chart topper, ‘Unmask Me’ had the new recruits, and most of the free world, shaking their butts, bumping and grinding, and in the case of Slyborg, quite literally throwing his hands in the air. The irony of course was that it was this crew that would probably face off with Bedazzled after the diva’s inevitable decent into her mother’s madness, signaled by an impromptu head shaving at a Rodeo Drive salon, a back to back Las Vegas wedding/divorce, and an ill-informed attack on the local nuclear power plant. The Paparazzi couldn’t wait.

  As Bedazzled crooned about the Commissioner shining Captain Freedom’s eagle emblem in the night sky, a swirl of orange light heralded Daytripper’s arrival in the middle of the dance floor. He held up a metal tray holding a dozen test tubes filled with glowing, swirling liquid.

  “Who wants a Silver Shower?” he cried.

  His classmates cheered loudly all around as he passed around the shots. He held his own aloft and everyone followed his lead. They clinked their glasses together, before downing them as one.

  He “yee-hawed” liked the Cowboy Kid (and got a dirty look from same) ripped off his tank top, and twirled it in the air.

  “Trip! Trip! Trip!” they shouted his name, scooping him off his feet and flying him around the dance floor.

  “Amateur,” the Pigeon cooed bitterly. He stuck a note he was supposed to be delivering between his beak and gnawed on it angrily. He’d had it up to his craw with being a low-level paper pusher between big wig Legal Eagles and their gangster Faux Hawks. They could choke on scrambled eggs for all he cared.

  Daytripper had no time for ruffled feathers. He’d left the nest and reached the aerie.

  A laser light show flared above.

  “I could do better,” Firefly sneered at the display, her sinewy body rubbing up against Crimson Clare in her glittering red Lycra outfit.

  The booze swirled in Daytripper’s head as he was finally put back on his feet. He panted, dizzy, accepting a Cosmic Ray Martini as it was shoved into his manicured hand.

  “Well someone’s having a good time,” a deep voice said.

  He turned, and stared into Arachnid’s handsome face. His beautifully muscled torso bare except for a white spider pendant hanging from his neck, matching the tattoo on his knuckle. He wore tight black jeans rolled up to his knees, and a pair of red high tops with white laces.

  “Hey,” Daytripper said a little breathlessly.

  “Hey yourself,” Arachnid replied, gently suctioning his fingertips onto Daytripper’s bare pec. It made the little hero bite his lower lip, and his eyelids fluttered every so lightly as Arachnid pulled him close. As if the villainous Purple Puppeteer were in control, Daytripper’s arms lifted on unseen strings, and wrapped themselves around Arachnid’s neck.

  The taller man’s hand gripped the blond’s bubble butt to lift him onto tip toes, and their lips met in wet wonder. The evening was now truly perfect.

  I made it, Daytripper realized with wonder, I really made it.

  They paused, staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Can you believe we get to see each other every day now? In class I mean,” Daytripper added hastily, not wanting to appear too clingy, when in fact he never wanted his dark savior to ever let him go.

  A stormy look crossed Arachnid’s face, reminding Daytripper of his dad.

  “About that,” Arachnid said. “I’m not going to the Academy.”

  “That’s crazy” Daytripper said, “You got in. I was there when they announced it.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m going to go,” Arachnid replied.

  “Of course it does!” Daytripper snapped, hating how high-pitched his voice had turned. “That’s exactly what it means. You either go now, or you’re out forever. They don’t give second chances.”

  The Amazonian legend Gladiator Gal had been very clear about that, impressing upon them the seriousness of their commitment, and how they’d never be eligible for admittance into the Academy ever again if they failed to live up to it.

  “This is not a place for the wishy-washy,” she declared, her golden armor glinting under the glittering light of the Arena.

  Arachnid pulled away from Daytripper, and the sudden distance was like a serrated spoon scooping out his heart.

  “Listen, I can’t stay that late.”

  “Well neither can I,” Daytripper replied, “I’ve got to be at the Academy at eight AM sharp. No latecomers.”

  He still couldn’t believe Arachnid wouldn’t be there.

  “Why are you doing this?” Daytripper demanded.

  He wanted to play it cool, but it was like his brain was on fire.

  “Come with me,” Arachnid said, “And I’ll explain.”

  He a shot a web up into a window, grabbed Daytripper around his tiny waist, and pulled them both up to the sill. They sat there, and Daytripper tried to quell the worried beating in his heart. Below, the party continued. Beyond, they stared into the quiet of the harbor. The moon glinted off a crane helping to repair the city’s main dock after it was pulverized in a battle between the Forces of Freedom and the terrorist mermen, Agents Aquatic.

  “You have to go,” Daytripper said, as if by sheer force of repetition he could get his way. It worked for the bestselling self-help author, the Hypnotist, author of Goulash for the Superhero Soul, Back From the Darkside: Vader Did It, So Can You, and of course her fitness book, Abs of Steel, For Real!. Unfortunately for Daytripper, she was a mentalist with a direct line to the subconscious. He was a teleporter who could barely afford bus fare. Not that he ever needed to take the bus. Still, he couldn’t give up.

  “You can’t not go to the Academy,” he insisted.

  Arachnid stroked the blond’s hair.

  “You sound like my aunt, and not just because of the double negative. Listen, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “So tell me. I want to know,” Daytripper said, “I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

  Arachnid pondered this. He cast a web in the window frame, and pulled Daytripper into his arms. The larger youth leaned back into the web, and held him like a teddy bear.

  “I feel like I can trust you.”

  “You can,” Daytripper insisted, “With anything.”

  “You ever hear of an old school hero by the name of Captain Invincible?”

  “Yeah, sounds familiar. I remember… something bad happened to him, didn’t it?”

  “The dude could take a tank shell at point blank range, but no one, and I mean no one, is invincible at the end of the day, not even my dad. He was facing off against Methtwisto. Can you imagine? He’s not even an A-list nemesis. But we’d had a fight that day, over a video game if you can believe it. It was some stupid concept, where you go around shooting hookers and homeless people. My dad was furious, said that was villain’s work, that heroes protected the weak, and helped them become strong. I called him a pansy and slammed the door in his face.

  That was the night he cornered Methtwisto. He was going to poison the city’s water supply. Lame, right?”

  Arachnid laughed a mirthless laugh, and there were black tears in his eerie eyes. He shot webbing into the party below them and yanked a bottle of beer out of Manorexic’s hand, who wa
s passed out on the bar anyway. The bar maid was using his face as a towel after Discus Debbie, busy making out with the rhino bouncer, had knocked over a pitcher. Arachnid took a swig of the beer.

  “So there was Dad, Captain-fucking-Invincible. He had Methtwisto’s neck pinned under one knee. He’d already dropped the poison into the water supply, but Dad had the standard anti-toxin kit. It was a simple case of mixing compound red with compound green, and he had himself a broad spectrum neutralizer. Textbook stuff. But instead he mixed red with aqua. He poured it in and instead of stopping the poison, it turned into a toxic gas. Dad got a concentrated dose of hallucinogen right in his face. He went nuts. I’m talking cuckoo bananas crazy. He’s been in an asylum ever since. It devastated Mom. She went on a manic frenzy of crime fighting, got arrested after killing the Terrible Twins at their cousin’s wedding. She railed against the system for siding with villains, decried the press for calling her a vigilante, demanding more be done for her husband. The world owed him that much. But that’s not how it works, is it?

  “Heroes are only heroes until they need to be saved. Anyway, the lawyers got my mom off, but she was broken by then. I think she was on a suicide run when she hunted down Molten Lava. She had mad martial arts skills, but at the end of the day, all she could do was turn invisible. She was so beautiful, and that fucker turned her into a bed ridden shell of skin grafts and open sores. She couldn’t even hide it from the world, or me. Her powers were in her epidermis, and that was damaged beyond repair. She was on life support for two years before she died.”

  “I… I’m sorry,” Daytripper said.

  He twisted around, and kissed away Arachnid’s dark tears. They tasted like licorice. He gazed into Arachnid’s gloomy eyes.

  “I don’t want to seem out of line, but… don’t you want to take revenge? Or you know, right the world’s wrongs?”

  “That’s what my aunt wants from me, to vindicate my folks, carry on their legacy. Methtwisto’s got a nephew, and Molten Lava a daughter, both at the Institute of Evil. I mean I’ve got a classic super hero death and disaster back story, and built in arch enemies, so of course I should become a hero. But you know what, I’m not a graphic novel. Maybe the most heroic thing I can do is break the cycle, put all this shit behind me.”

  “You’re running away,” Daytripper said.

  It wasn’t a question or accusation, and there was no judgment in his tone.

  “Yeah,” Arachnid agreed. “I guess I am. And I want you to come with me.”

  Daytripper pulled away at that, Arachnid’s words hanging in the air.

  “Arachnid, I…”

  “Call me Jim,” the larger youth said. “Please, just call me Jim.”

  “No, I’m sorry, you’re not a Jim. That’s… that’s boring and lame. I feel terrible for what you went through, I can’t even imagine, but you are Arachnid. You’re a hero. You don’t get to run away from that.”

  Arachnid leaned forward and kissed Daytripper. With their lips entwined, the blond had never been so happy, or so sad.

  “Just think about it,” Arachnid said, keeping his lips close to Daytripper’s. “And if you’re in, and I hope you are, meet me here.” He handed Daytripper a folded pieced of paper. “Tomorrow morning, eight AM.”

  He kissed the little hero-in-training again, their mouths feverishly swallowing each other with desperate intensity. Neither noticed the fight breaking out below. The lithe Colonel Copernicus shot solar flares at muscle bound Geocentric Gym as yet another of their philosophical debates spun out of control. Singed in the cross fire was the One Eyed Serpent who was helping Manorexic to the washroom as he began to throw up, making his entire body undulate. An oblivious Arachnid shot out a string of webbing, and swung away into the night.

  The next morning Daytripper stood in front of the mesh gate surrounding the Academy of Super Heroic Excellence. Shouldn’t they have a proper wall or something? Not some flimsy fence? He wondered idly to himself. It was a futile attempt to distract himself from the sacrifice he was about to make. After all, the fence may appear flimsy, but could easily repel a tank. Winged youths were landing on the roof of the crystalline building within. A muscular dude covered in short fur and tiger stripes drove by in a convertible, three cheetah-esque cheerleaders purring to one another as they roared through the open front gate. There were a slew of other cars, a hybrid that left a slime trail in its wake, a pickup with what looked like a giant boulder in the back, but which was in fact one of Daytripper’s classmates, and overhead, a sleek rocket ship belonging to the Genius family, flew by, to land softly in one of the upper hangar bays.

  This is where I belong, Daytripper told himself.

  And yet it seemed hollow without Arachnid.

  Can I do this alone? Do I want to?

  It was 7:56 in the morning. Time to decide.

  He took a deep breath, and disappeared in a swirl of orange light.

  An instant later he reappeared—on the other side of town from the Academy of Super Heroic Excellence, standing on a dilapidated dock at eight AM sharp, exactly where Arachnid had told him to be. It had been a hard decision, but he trusted his heart, and his heart told him that the tall, dark stranger was the one, and whenever he’d fantasized about going to the Academy, wasn’t he really fantasizing about meeting Mr. Forever?

  A huge smile crested Daytripper’s face. He spun around, waiting to be enveloped in Arachnid’s strong arms.

  “Arachnid?” he shouted, taking off his sunglasses and shading his eyes.

  A lone gull flapped its wings at him and screeched mockingly. He looked around. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t need to be a graduate of the Academy of Super Heroic Excellence to know that. He gazed up at the broken windows of the surrounding warehouses, and he caught a flash of sunlight, and a blur of shadowy movement. Someone was there, he was sure of it. In a flare of orange light he landed inside the abandoned warehouse. He soaked up the scene in an instant. Dust and old machinery were everywhere, rusted and stacked with birds nests, covered in droppings. By the window was a video camera on a tripod, pointed toward the dock where he’d been waiting. A note was taped to it. He read the note, the ache in his chest deepening with every word.

  Hey Sucker,

  As you’ve probably guessed, you’ve been had. I’m a Sophomore at the Institute of Evil World Domination. I was assigned to find the most gullible, innocent, pathetic dupe at the Academy of Loser Do Gooders, and get him to drop out. Mission accomplished. The hilarious thing is, it’s not even for finals, just some lame ass mid-term homework worth a measly 2%. But hey, whatever it takes to be top of the class. Thanks for the A+ dork.

  Your Nemesis,

  Arachnid

  PS: I set up the video camera to send a live feed, with a time stamp, direct to some key Herobook profiles, so all your would be classmates and teachers could see you make a complete ass of yourself. I don’t even get extra credit for that. Welcome to my web :)

  Daytripper expected to cry, to sob in fact, to feel the full weight of his gullibility bitch slapping him from here to the Academy and back. What stupid romantic notions filled him to the point of throwing away his dream for this, a super villain in training? And that’s when he knew what he was feeling: anger, pure, blind anger. In a crackle of furious light that shot out like lighting all about the room, he was gone.

  An instant later he rematerialized in a rustic toilet stall. He opened the creaking door slowly. The dormitory washroom was scrawled with graffiti. Someone was in the shower. From beneath the shower curtain he spotted scaled feet. The toe nails had been sharpened into talons. He slipped from the washroom and into the hall. There were long scratches from a set of claws in the wall. The paint was flaking off in places. Scorch marks splattered the ceiling. Daytripper stepped forward, drawn by the sound of laughter from a half open door.

  “The look on his face
! Wait, rewind, let’s see it again. Aw, puppy dog looks like he’s going to cry!”

  It was Arachnid. Daytripper would never forget what he sounded like. For a moment he felt angry tears, but he wiped them impatiently away. Taking a deep breath he lost himself in a flare of burning light. When it cleared he crouched on Arachnid’s bed, towering over the villain-to-be.

  “What the fuck!” Arachnid shouted, tumbling off the mattress. Daytripper jumped after him, and grabbed him by his vest.

  Three of Arachnid’s dorm mates were crowded around a computer screen, all of them laughing at the video of Daytripper on the dock. To his dismay it already had several hundred hits, and the number was growing exponentially, going viral before his eyes.

  “Fuck my life,” he murmured.

  The would-be villains turned around to see Daytripper standing over their friend.

  A feline female looked ready to pounce. A granite giant lifted it’s rocky fist. A lithe young man of Middle Eastern decent placed his hands together in a prayer gesture, and the crimson ruby set into the choker about his neck glowed ominously.

  “You are going to regret this you psycho little stalker,” the young man with the choker swore.

  Arachnid laughed.

  “Show ‘em what you got Mesmerito! Make him think his eyeballs are melting.”

  Mesmerito was dressed in a form fitting silk robe. The ruby around his neck flared brighter. Daytripper didn’t even flinch.

  “Nice try,” Daytripper said coldly, “But someone’s already fucked with my head once today, and no one else is getting in.”

  Arachnid’s smile faded, and in a dazzle of angry orange, the pair disappeared.

  A bright light flared in the storage room off of the Arena in the Academy of Superheroic Excellence, the very place where Arachnid and Daytripper first met. Daytripper rematerialized with his kidnapped villain high in the air, and threw him into the net Arachnid had cast less than twenty four hours ago. Arachnid’s frame slammed into the netting and ripped it free of the wall, tangling his limbs so that his normally agile form fell and landed with an echoing thud against the ground.