Origins of a D-List Supervillain (17 page)

“No loot,” Seawall said. “What kind of bank job is this?”

EM Pulsive laughed and switched into his human form. “Only the biggest kind, boys! The Federal Reserve in Kansas City is meeting on the same day that the Fed in New York meets. Everyone says that they’re going to lower interest rates. That means everyone is buying stocks and driving the prices higher. We’re going to take the fat cats in KC hostage for a few hours and create a little ruckus.”

I did the math. Whoever was giving orders to Eddie probably had a legion of short sellers lined up to take advantage of any sudden market volatility.

“I don’t get it,” Bobby said.

“Don’t worry, Bobby,” I said while Pulsive rolled his eyes. “There’s a bunch of people betting on the stock market to go down on the day when the Fed meets. They’ll make money when it drops and we’re going to make certain it does.”

“That’s right! Listen to the man in the metal suit. Why rip off one bank when you can rip off dozens at the same time.”

“I still don’t get it, but as long as your money is good, I don’t really care.” Bobby’s summation was everything I’d expected it to be.

“So, who’s cutting your check?” Seawall asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he answered. “Let’s just say that if any of you screw this up, you’ll have a hard time finding work on either side of the Mississippi. Got it?”

I’d already lived that life on the other side of the law, so I got it. The other three nodded even if they didn’t.

Satisfied, Eddie continued, “All right. Now all we have to do is hold onto these fat cats for five or six hours and make a few over the top demands and threaten to send a body out every hour or so and then we skedaddle. Can’t have any of those fat cats getting hurt, we want the market to come back. It’s that buy low and sell high crap.”

“That’s it?” Seawall said. “How’re we supposed to get out? They’ll have the place surrounded.”

“Rodentia can be a couple of miles away, so he doesn’t even need to be in the building. I’m going out through the power grid. As for the rest of you,” he paused and pointed at me. “Mechoman there can fly and carry up to nine hundred pounds. I suggest you catch a ride with him.”

• • •

“Here’s what we know, three hours ago, a group of supervillains, apparently led by Seawall seized the Federal Reserve Building in downtown Kansas City. The Board was in session and in a conference with the New York Federal Reserve when they were taken hostage. Most of the building has been evacuated, but the board members remain on the upper floors as prisoners. We’ve had reports of hundreds of rats terrorizing the people fleeing the structure. That indicates the presence of the villain, Rodentia. A third villain, who goes by the name Big Ripper is also inside. Big Ripper is widely believed to be an alias of Hillbilly Bobby. Also, the mysterious armored criminal who has been involved in a number of bank robberies in the southeast is rumored to be inside. We don’t have a name for him yet, though his identity is believed to be Calvin Stringel, who formerly went by Manacles. At this point their list of demands includes one million dollars for each of the board members, a mint or at least very good condition Honus Wagner baseball card, a lime green Ferrari Testarossa, and, most baffling of all, that Milli Vanilli’s Best New Artist Grammy be reinstated.”

Listening to the news report, I smiled. The last one was my idea. It was the most outrageous demand I could come up with. EM Pulsive had snuck inside and was staying out of sight. He was letting Seawall do all the talking. Part of me was worried that he was setting us up.

I found him hovering by an internet terminal, “How’s the DOW?”

“Off by two hundred points, it’s working, but we need about fifty more points. I think it’s time we wired them up. At two thirty the New Yorkers are supposed to announce the interest rates. Right before that is when we toss the dummy out of the window.”

Modeling clay, food coloring, and baling wire make for some pretty convincing looking C4, if you don’t transmit a high resolution picture. I’d just as soon use the real stuff, but Eddie was adamant about not harming any of these bigwigs. That, naturally, led me to wonder if one or more of them were actually in collusion with the man I was speaking with.

Bankers as villains? Who’d have ever thought?

“Do you know Victoria Wheymeyer?”

Eddie looked up from his screen and nodded. “If you’re somebody, then Vicky knows who you are, why’re you asking, Mechani-CAL?”

“I heard if you get in good with her, you’ll never want for steady work,” I said quoting what the Gardener had told me. “I like steady work.”

“Well, if this is successful and you keep trending upward, I’m sure she might get in touch with you at some point. Word to the wise though, don’t go looking for her, wait until she sends for you. Now, get back in there and keep an eye on Bobby and make sure Seawall is getting the dummy ready.”

I acknowledged his instructions, went back to the hostages, and looked for the person who appeared to be the least worried, just to satisfy my own curiosity, and to make certain I knew who to grab as a hostage if this deal went south. Bobby took the opportunity to take a bathroom break. Staring at the collection of cell phones and other assorted gadgetry, I picked the nearest one up and jacked into it initiating a copy program and watched their faces while I did it.

“I wonder how many of you have lists of your passwords inside of these. I bet at least one of you does. If I’m lucky, there might even be some juicy text messages or maybe a picture or two that should never see the light of day. Seriously? You have one click access to your bank account enabled. Sounds to me like someone is about to make a substantial charitable donation! I’ll give you all a chance to vote on the recipient of this magnanimous gift. It’ll give us something to do while we wait.”

The board members couldn’t see which device I was holding and I could see the concern on their faces while I listed off my nominations and called for a vote. The top vote getter immediately received a fifty thousand dollar donation courtesy of someone who didn’t even bother to password protect their phone.

I was feeling generous, so the charity in second place scored twenty-five large while we all took a “pause for the cause.”

The second device was also unlocked and had access to online auction websites. I enjoyed using the instant buying features on this one immensely. In addition to sex toys, porn videos and a crate full of three hundred pairs of red galoshes, the biggest ticket item I could come across was a fan group selling their replica of the
Ghostbusters
Ecto-One vehicle. It had relatively low mileage and, even though it was against my better judgment, it would make a sweet ride to work for the lucky winner, and immediately deleted the confirmation emails so someone would be in for a surprise.

After all, these fine folks enjoy abusing other people’s money; it’s high time someone abused theirs.

By the time Bobby came back, with a swagger in his step that made me wonder if he bothered to flush, I had a virtual treasure trove of information that I could mine later for useful data. Since this was a fixed price job, anything I could get extra would be my own little bonus.
Fortune favors the brave and all that carpe diem shit.

Over in the next office, Seawall was prepping the dummy. It looked pretty realistic and would leave a fairly convincing blood smear on the pavement.

“Is it ready yet? Eddie wants it ready to go just before two thirty.”

“Almost, you all could’ve had the bumpkin doing this while I was downstairs.”

“Nah, Bobby isn’t good with this kind of thing. I could, but I’d have to get out of my suit and Eddie’s signing our checks.”

“You outta drop that loser you’re running with,” he said. “That suit would give you some pull down in New Orleans and Texas. The Gulf Coasters aren’t as good as they think they are, and there are a lot of opportunities down there.”

“I’m still working out the kinks,” I replied, ignoring the slight to my friend and trying to hold my tongue. “Besides, it’s easier to keep my suit running when I’m not looking for fights.”

“So, what you’re saying is you’re a chickenshit! Guess I was wrong about you.”

That was all my tongue needed to get the better of me. “Seriously? How is it you’ve managed to stay out of jail so long when you’re such a clueless moron?”

His invulnerability would probably protect him if I tossed him out the window instead of the dummy. It was...tempting.

“Because I’m not a loser like you, Stringel. That’s your name, isn’t it? Forget I mentioned New Orleans, small time, you ain’t ready for it.”

“Instead of insulting me, you should be thinking about how much ass kissing you’ll need to do when we leave. Unless you’ve got some other way out of here, that is.”

• • •

Our requisite
financial correction
happened shortly after the dummy splattered and the markets had been sufficiently manipulated for one day, so we decided to get the hell out of Dodge...or Kansas City, in this case.

We set of a series of smoke bombs and Rodentia directed his rat horde to charge the mass of police and national guardsmen at the barricades. That was our cue to blow out a window and take to the air, with Bobby and D’wan clinging to me, and head due north toward the Missouri River.

“Get me to the boat I have under the bridge,” Seawall shouted. Members of his biker gang had a fishing boat waiting for him under the I-29 Bridge.

We had a decent head start on those choppers flying over the scene with all the commotion, but loaded down with these two I had no chance of outrunning them, so I’d need to lighten the load a little. Two hundred and seventy-five pounds of jackass was about right.

Zipping under the bridge I hovered for a moment and nodded to Seawall. As he started to let go, I swung my arm slightly and instead of landing on the deck, he went into the drink. He came up sputtering and pissed, which suited me just fine as his men scrambled to help him in.

“That’s for calling me small time, Seawall!”

It was probably petty of me, but, if we’re being honest, Rodentia bugs me less than Seawall and that says a lot.

We flew down the length of the boat and away from Seawall’s thugs before they were tempted to start shooting at us. I made certain Bobby had the breathing mask on and jacked the line into my environmental system. My escape plan also involved the Missouri River and a bit of high speed snorkeling. From high up the only thing visible would be our wake and that would end as soon as we caught up to a barge we could clamp on for a short period of time.

Boat-hiking west, the two of us stayed out of sight for a little over thirty minutes, and broke away at the coordinates where we’d stashed our van with Michigan plates. Sneaking up to some rich dude’s private dock, Bobby led me to where the van was waiting for us. I clambered in and sat down while he grabbed a towel and dried off before getting into the driver’s seat.

“Sure you want to go to California?” Bobby asked.

“When they lost track of us, they’ll probably assume you and I are headed back to Alabama. We’ll head west and then circle back later. Besides, I want to pay a visit to my good friend F. Randall Barton.”

Chapter Nine

Stops on the Cal Stringel Revenge Tour

The houses overlooking the Pacific Ocean were a testament to the excesses in life. The communities, dominated by the rich and famous, mocked those who were beneath them. F. Randall Barton had reached that pinnacle of existence and climbed pretty far up the summit of Mount Success.

Part of his journey had included deliberately going out of his way to destroy my life. Between his machinations and my own shitty decisions, I’d been kicked into a hole which I’d only recently climbed out from. Nietzsche said, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” I knew I wasn’t strong enough to go after Ultraweapon just yet, if ever, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t topple the man who’d engineered my downfall with Lazarus Patterson’s approval, tacit or otherwise.

On the way out west, I’d been pleased to see that I was a trending topic on the Internet. There was rampant speculation that I had planned the attack and had used the money I’d stolen as investment capital. That was different; people were overestimating me for a change. It made me admire Eddy’s decision to stay out of the limelight and pull the strings. The suspicious side of me that had been nurtured in prison led me to believe that Eddy was out there encouraging the idea that I’d been behind it all.

If the roles were reversed, it’s what I would do.

While on the topic of prison, I considered sending a letter to my therapist and seeing if he would approve of my personal growth decisions. Before moving forward with my life, I was going to confront the problems of my past head on. Well, it was more like taking my inner demons out for a night on the town. Something told me that this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but the world was an imperfect place. Still, being on east coast time, I sat around and waited for Barton’s son to drive off to high school in his expensive “look what pappy bought for me” mustang. Thermals showed one male and one female still in the house. Considering what they doing and that he was a divorced man, I figured this must be the much younger, much prettier girlfriend.

Taking to the sky, I landed on his balcony and felt it creak under the weight of the suit. The naked, redheaded woman, not much older than the man’s son, screamed, jumped off, and clutched at the sheets to cover her body.

Barton has good taste,
I thought as the man dragged on a pair of boxers and walked toward me.
He must think I’m Patterson! That’s a laugh.

“Mr. Patterson,” he began. “Is that one of your older suits? I haven’t seen that one before. Taking it out for a spin, I see. Is there something urgent at the office, or is this a social visit?”

“Social,” I said, deciding to play along. “How are things?”