No Master Plan Here (Madness Runs in the Family) (8 page)

             
[KT3.141592653: Point. I'll do it.]

             
[LilRed: *high fives* Operation: Get my big brudder a girly is a go!]

             
[KT3.141592653: *rolly eyes*]

-~-~-

              February 3, 2012

              Denise was having her morning coffee at her desk. It was half an hour before anyone else typically came in, and the silence was therapeutic. She was spending the time checking her personal email and social media sites. An email in particular caught her eye. The sender line listed an unfamiliar email address, one DeloreanDoctor. The subject line was empty. Denise shrugged and opened it. The anti-virus should catch anything that might be contained if it was a trap.

             
“Denise Sanders, Good morning. Don't worry about your new assignment. You will enjoy it. TL. PS: Watch out for Andrea. She could make you spill your coffee.”

             
“Cryptic and weird...” Denise muttered to herself lifting her coffee cup to her lips. Her ears twitched at a barely heard sound behind her. Someone was sneaking up on her? She lowered her coffee cup and spun her chair around slowly.

             
Andrea was behind her, maybe a foot away, and poised to startle Denise. The surprise on her round face when she was discovered was evident. She pounced anyways, brown curls bouncing, grabbing Denise by the shoulders and shaking her back and forth.

             
“Guess what guess what guess what!” she exclaimed. Denise rolled her eyes, spinning around and breaking the death grip on her shoulders. She set her coffee cup on her desk and turned back to face Andrea.

             
“What? You have a new boyfriend?” Denise responded, her tone neutral. She wasn't sure what Andrea was so excited about, but it was a bit weird that the cryptic email had been right about the coffee. Had she not been expecting something startling her, she wouldn't have turned to catch Andrea and probably would have lost her coffee. Creepy.

             
“No, but the DHS sent us over an interesting email this morning. You've heard of Anansi, right?” she said, bouncing like a puppy with barely contained excitement.

             
“Yes. Small time supervillain and political activist, right? A couple of bank robberies, a few cases of releasing information that took politicians out of the running for office. Maker Type, probable power level somewhere around two or three. That about right?” She had read the file, and had admitted a bit of interest in him. He was tall, dark, and mysterious, though based on the fact that he wore a costume that covered his entire body and left his head entirely featureless, it was hard to say entirely for certain if Anansi was male. It could be part of the disguise.

             
“Yup! That's him. There was a dating profile for him posted on the internet last night. The higher-ups want you to try to use that as an in to get close to him and take him out if he's a threat.”

             
Denise blinked, looking at Andrea like she had grown another head. She couldn't be serious, could she? Denise looked to the calendar on her desk. February third, certainly not April. She looked back to Andrea again, who was still bouncing up and down.

             
“Okay, let's say for a moment I believe this nonsense. What are the odds that he'll choose whatever alter-ego they create for me? He's supposed to be a genius, right? Won't he be able to come up with information like, oh, I don't know, “This person didn't exist until yesterday.””

             
“That's the beauty of the plan. You'll be a starting up villain. No real record because you're new. No history because you will only play as your alias.” Denise was beginning to believe Andrea was actually being serious about this. That was the scary part. It was beginning to sound feasible, and the very concept was ridiculous. She was about to say so when Heather Ruthers walked around the corner and pointed at Denise.

             
“Sanders, the boss wants to see you,” said Ruthers, her face drawn and serious. Denise stood and walked past Andrea and out of the office area. She followed Ruthers down the hallway and to the office of Gareth Doyle.

             
Gareth was a bit of a packrat, keeping trophies and paperwork from cases he had been a part of over his long career. Filing cabinets lined the walls, and above them were framed newspaper articles and awards. His desk was large and had stacks of papers in a relatively organized manner filling the majority of the surface and hiding his laptop.

             
Gareth himself did not fit with the appearance of a packrat. His suit, while several years old and beginning to show signs of age, was immaculately clean and pressed every day. He was tall and skinny, to the point that occasionally Denise wondered if he was sick. His eyes were large and expressive, green the color of grass, and his hair was the bright red that had hints of orange that matched his freckles.

             
Gareth looked up as Denise filled his doorway and gestured for her to step in and close the door. He smiled, a crooked toothed grin that gave him a boyish appearance despite his age and seniority. Denise shut the door behind her and sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

             
“Bet you're wondering why you're here,” he led off with, standing from his desk to walk to a coffee maker occupying a shelf of a bookcase filled with books of law. He poured himself a mug and sat back down at his desk, leaning back in his chair and watching Denise over the piles of paper.

             
“A new assignment, maybe?”

             
“Bingo. We've got good reason to believe that Anansi posted a legit profile on the net looking for a lover. We're working on a profile for you, but we need you to work the details a bit. Figure undercover is the best place for you, with your mutation.” He swung his chair back and forth as he spoke, as if being bound to the chair was too much for him.

             
“Can do, but a question. Why do you think it's legit? There are hoax profiles of heroes and villains every day. Why is this one different?”

             
“Just a hunch, really. If it pays out, we could get some seriously good info on this guy.”

             
“Why him? Anansi isn't exactly the most dangerous guy out there.”

             
“Higher up is worried about him. The guys who rob banks are bad enough, but they're not exactly subtle. It's the guys who plan stuff that are trouble in the long run, and with the stuff he posts on the net, we figure it would be better to try to keep an eye on him than let him blow up in our face five to ten years down the road.”

             
Denise nodded and stood. Gareth set his mug down and started typing on his keyboard. He clicked the mouse once, nodded, and looked up. “The details are in your mail now. Look them over, try to develop a good look for the profile we drew up. We'll get a photo when you're ready.” Denise nodded once more and left his office.

             
What a weird morning.

Chapter 8

             
February 8, 2012

              “You have an appointment today,” Kay said, materializing behind Anansi. He looked up from his console and adjusted his glasses. Kay noted the three days worth of stubble on his chin and quickly checked the video feeds from the last few days to see if he had actually slept in a bed. He had not, but he had at least showered every day. The progress on the Tar Baby project had been minimal at best the past week, mimicking the week before that as well. Tests were not showing any improvement of the launching mechanism that would be used to turn the solution into a viable core for the multipurpose grenades that Anansi used as his primary weapons, and frustration was beginning to set in, obviously.

             
It was time for a change of pace.

             
“An appointment? I didn't put anything on the calendar,” Anansi said, straightening up and scratching his chin, seeming to realize his own state of disarray for the first time. Kay sighed and turned on the shower, setting the water to running so that Anansi could simply walk in.

             
“Yes, an appointment. You will be expected in gear. Hurry up and get ready, or you will be late. The Tar Baby project will still be there when you return.” Anansi rolled his eyes and pushed back from his seat to walk into the lab's shower, pulling his shirt over his head as he went.

             
“Try to remember to shave as well.”

             
“Yes, mother,” Anansi called back as he stepped through the door.

-~-~-

              Half an hour later, Anansi found himself standing in full kit outside a one story building with long panes of glass lining the two sides that faced the street. A sign on the corner over the door said “Villains Corner Cafe” in blood red letters on a black background. Visible inside were people dressed like villains, though there were a few people in street clothes.

             
“Seriously?” Anansi said, his helmet display scanning through the occupants of the cafe and identifying the costumes he saw. He did not see anyone who actually looked like they could actually be the person who was known for the costume, and some were not particularly accurately or well made.

             
[What?] Anansi could feel the smirk in Kay's text through the neural link.

             
“You're making me go in here?” Anansi said, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. A breeze caused his coattails to flap around his feet.

             
[Would you look for yourself here? :P]

             
“No, mostly because I wouldn't actually be caught dead in something like this. Have you heard of that place down on Fifth Street? A heroes and villains dance club. Weekly contest for best costume. It's ridiculous.”

             
[If you don't go in, I will edit pictures and send them to your sister to say you are a regular. I'm sure she will find it adorable.]

             
“I can edit your programming to make you have no personality.”

             
[Just hush and go in.]

             
“I do this under protest,” Anansi said as he walked into the building. A bell chimed above the door as he pushed it opened, drawing looks from several of the cafe's occupants and the barista, who was dressed in a costume that was actually a very good representation of Haunted, a villain who Anansi knew worked out of New York. The white haired woman wore a white mask over the bottom half of her face, white contacts, and a white outfit that was skin-tight except for where it billowed out at the elbows and knees, showing off her figure which was a bit softer than the actual Haunted's, but also more curvy. The sleeves extended several inches past her hands, and Anansi wondered for a moment how she kept them out of drinks, much less clean.

             
“What can I get for you?” she asked as she worked a latte machine. “Nice Anansi costume. You put a lot of work into that, I see.” Anansi nodded and leaned against the counter, biting back a comment that might have actually given away just how much work had gone into the “costume.” He looked over the menu, settling for something normal.

             
“Hot cocoa,” he said, activating his helmet's speakers. The barista nodded and set a paper cup down on the counter.

             
“Latte for Nefarious Zod,” she called out before grabbing another cup and beginning work on his drink. “Anything else for you?” Anansi shook his head, moving out of the way as a poor facsimile of Nefarious Zod, if he were out of shape and overweight, sidled up to the bar from a laptop in the corner that was playing videos of a massively multiplayer online game. When “Zod” was gone with his cup, Anansi offered a bill. “Haunted” smiled and took the bill he offered her, giving him change with the quick skill of someone who had been doing this for years. Anansi thanked her and walked to an unoccupied table and sat down.

             
[So, tell me again, why am I here?] he said, utilizing his neural link to send the message. Talking to himself was always a good way to make friends, but he didn't really feel like funny looks from norms who were villain chasers.

             
[Meeting someone. You're ten minutes early for the meeting.] An image appeared on his display in the top left corner of a woman with brown hair and eyes and light brown skin. Her features were soft, skinny. She had the look of a model, and not one of the overly skinny, starving-themselves-to-death variety, either. The name below the picture was listed as Ghost. Anansi tried to remember if he had ever met her before, and couldn't, so assumed he hadn't.

             
“Why? Why am I meeting someone?” he asked, irritation setting in. Kay was being abnormally tight-lipped today. He pulled up Ghost's file on his screen, finding very little in the way of criminal activity or news on the alias. Surprisingly enough, there weren't any other listed individuals who used the alias on the net. Maybe because it was so simple that people assumed it was in use.