The Rules of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 1) (5 page)

“I do?” Cindy looked confused. She was doing a very good impression of a bubble-headed blonde, despite being a redhead. Of course, it was just an act to manipulate people. I spent most of my senior year wrapped around her finger before I figured that one out.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re getting ten thousand dollars for your services.”

“Spiffy!” Cindy said. “Wait, this isn’t one of those ‘sexual favors for cash’ things? I get a lot of those as a henchperson.”

“No!” I said, repulsed. “I’m a married man!”

“Oh, good!” Cindy looked relieved. “Because those cost extra.”

Diabloman snorted in amusement.

“So, you’re here to rescue me?” Amanda said. “Dad didn’t send any of his evil cultist henchmen?”

“What?” I asked, looking for both a fire extinguisher and a phone book.

“Nothing,” Amanda said. “Forget I mentioned it.”

“O-kay.” I found a fire extinguisher in the bathroom behind the toilet and started putting the Typewriter out. I could have used my freeze powers but I wasn’t going to overuse my powers if they had a finite amount of power every night.

The phone book was much easier to find. Looking up Chief Watkins’ number, his wife was kind enough to give me his cellphone number. Of course, unlike in movies, I
still
got a busy signal despite the important nature of the call. So I ended up texting him.

“Come in with the money. The situation is resolved,” I said as I used my thumbs on my cellphone.

I got texted back within seconds. “I’m coming.”

Ten minutes later, the elevator to the penthouse was coming up with what I presumed to Chief Watkins and Dudley Douglas with my money. Either that or a group of cops interested in shooting us to death for being, well, criminals attempting to profit from another criminal’s crime.

I’d gotten Diabloman some bottled water from the penthouse fridge and he was taking his pills while Cindy sat beside him, watching HBO. Amanda Douglas was sitting beside me on a finely appointed couch, looking positively mystified at the insane situation she’d found herself in.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re supervillains my father hired to rescue me from other supervillains?” Amanda asked, sipping her diet soda.

“That’s about the size of it,” I said.

“That’s cool,” Amanda Douglas said. “My dad is kinda supervillain-ish. He holds the black masses to his dark god on weekends. I never get to see them.”

“
You should ask about that
,” Cloak suggested.

“Someone else’s problem,” I muttered then clasped my hands together and spoke in a normal voice.  “I hope you don’t blame me for any trauma you may have suffered being surrounded by a half-dozen dead hoods.” I gestured to the carnage around us. “I wanted to do this without violence.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Amanda said. “It gives me something to talk to my therapist about.”

“
This situation has gone so far past the point of insanity it’s come around and become mundane again
,” Cloak observed.

“You noticed that too, huh?” I smiled. “I think she has an excellent career in supervillainy ahead of her…or corporate finance.”

Seconds later, Chief Watkins and Dudley Douglas arrived with a trio of police officers behind them.

Chief of Police Watkins was a gray-haired man in his sixties who resembled Sean Connery. He was wearing a beige trench coat over a pair of brown pants and a white shirt with a brown tie. Chief Watkins looked a lot more dashing than he was, given the city was suffering its worst crime rate in eighty years.

Dudley, on the other hand, looked very much a Japanese man trying to look like a Texas oil baron. He wore a ten gallon hat, a ten thousand dollar suit, and a smile which looked like it came from a plastic surgeon. Dudley was carrying a duffel bag over his left shoulder, which I hoped contained half a million dollars.

“
You do realize they’re going to try and arrest you, right
?”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.” I raised my hands into the air as if surrendering. I had no intention of doing so, though.

“
How reassuring.”

I stood up, pointing my fingers at both of them. “I know what you’re going to say, Chief. I didn’t mention I robbed a bank earlier this morning and sort-of, kind-of, killed someone. Then, of course, you walk into this hotel room and you discover about a half-dozen more bodies and you think you’re dealing with a homicidal lunatic. Well, I’ll have you know, you’re incorrect. Homicidal lunatics kill for no reason, I kill people
for money
.”

Thank you, John Cusack.

Before they had a chance to respond, I continued, “The important thing to understand is everyone here who died...
had it coming
. I know; who are we to play judge, jury, and executioner—but the answer is: the people who have to deal with these psychos. The Nightwalker did a great job; I’m starting to understand what the man went through, having a magical cape talking to him day-in and day-out. However, let’s face facts, he’s not coming back. You’re now two supervillains down at the cost of a mere five-hundred-fifty-thousand or so dollars. How many supervillains are active in Falconcrest City, thirty? Forty?
One
hundred
?”

“Four hundred and eighty-nine,” Chief Watkins said before looking down at the corpse of the Typewriter and giving it a light kick. “Four hundred and eighty-eight.”

“What do you people even
do
at police headquarters? Keep tally of the dead?” I asked, looking at him sideways.

“Now see here—” Chief Watkins’ eyes narrowed.

“Never mind, my wife loves you. We here on Team Villain ™ wouldn’t have you any other way.”

And yes, I said the trade-mark initials.

“Go Team Villain!” Cindy jumped up and down while clapping. It was an impressive feat given she had a flame thrower on her back.

I continued, ignoring her, “Now let me paint you a picture: one supervillain in Falconcrest City, with maybe a half dozen or so supervillain henchman. The Society of Superheroes is too busy fighting alien invasions and extra-dimensional tentacle monsters to help with the crime here. I don’t like supervillains any more than you do, they cut into my business. Ponder the cost effectiveness of having someone willing to beat the psycho-killers of the city to death with a pipe.”

“
This is never going to work
.”

Chief Watkins stared at me for a long moment then narrowed his eyes. “Take your money and go, Merciless. Take your henchmen with you, too.”

Dudley Douglas tossed me the duffel bag, which I grabbed in mid-air. His daughter then ran up to him and gave him a hug.

“Thank you,” I said, almost disappointed. “Let’s go guys.”

Chief Watkins added under his breath, “We’ll talk later.”

Diabloman stared at my getaway vehicle. “You have to be joking.”

“I confess; it’s not
traditional
...” I trailed off.

“You drove a minivan here,” Cindy said, putting her hands on her hips. “A minivan, Gary.”

“Merciless, please,” I corrected. “And there’s nothing wrong with minivans.”

Okay, that was a big fat lie. My white minivan was anything but an appropriate transport for a supervillain. However, it’s not like I’d purchased it as a getaway vehicle. Mandy and I had once planned on having children and nothing said family car quite like minivan.

“Minivan, Gary.” Cindy shook her head, tying her red hair into girlish bunches. “Minivan.”

“Hush up,” I said. “A half-million dollar payday should be enough to warrant me a little respect.”

Diabloman snorted, hot air blowing out of the nostril slits of his mask. “I confess, it
is
nice to have an operation go off without a hitch. A year ago, this would be where the Nightwalker would show up to ruin our escape. Still, do not grow cocky. Once, I would not have been satisfied with anything less than a million dollars per heist.”

“Yeah, well, I just started this gig. I’m willing to work my way up to the Devil of Durango standards.” I unlocked the car. “I’m happy to drop you off anywhere you want before I return to my villainous lair.”

“You mean your house in the suburbs?” Cindy asked, sliding on in. “I was at the after-wedding party, remember.”

I winced before correcting her. “Yes, my
villainous lair
.”

Diabloman gave a hearty chuckle before climbing in and strapping on his seatbelt. “Many an insidious and cruel villain has begun his career in the microcosm of suburbia.”

“Thanks, Diablo,” I said. Stepping into the driver’s seat, I started up the car. “So where do you want me to drop you guys off?”

“Kane and Morrison,” Diabloman said.

“Timm Blvd,” Cindy said.

Both named obscure parts of town, I didn’t at all mind driving to. It would add about an hour to my travel time but I didn’t feel right asking them to take a cab, there were people crazy enough to mug a supervillain in this town.

As we drove along the city streets, I asked Diabloman, “So, could you give me a little advice to start off our mentor-student relationship?”

“Don’t eat yellow snow,” Diabloman said, gruffly.

“I hired you to be my evil Obi-Wan. The least you could do is take your job seriously.”

“Your first mistake was letting two known supervillains into your car while carrying half a million dollars. How do you know we’re not going to steal it?” Cindy asked, crossing her arms.

I paused, thinking. “Well, first off, I have superpowers. You don’t. Second, I’d take it personally.”

Cindy bit her lip, looking deep in thought. “Right. Never mind.”

“You have nothing to fear from me. It would be dishonorable to turn upon an employer before they have betrayed me.”

Cindy looked annoyed more than anything. “I never understood the whole ‘honorable supervillain’ shtick. Wouldn’t the fact alone that you’re a thief make you dishonorable?”

“No,” Diabloman said. “It would not.”

“It’s important for evil to have standards. Otherwise, nothing separates you from the common rabble,” I explained, using my great knowledge of evil derived from comic books and movies.

“You have already learned the first two lessons I would impart,” Diabloman said. “Show no fear to your enemies and never compromise whatever principles you choose to live by. These will make it so even your enemies respect you.”

“Were you serious about killing every other supervillain in Falconcrest City?” Cindy asked, just now realizing she wasn’t dealing with the harmless man she’d dated.

“If they get in my way, yeah,” I said, watching the various foreboding buildings of downtown pass by. “There can be just one king of the hill, after all. Plus, I don’t mind killing bad people. Is that a problem, Diablo?”

“No,” Diabloman said. “That is Rule Three. Never trust another supervillain. Rule Number One is you must never kill a superhero.”

“What?” Cindy asked, staring at Diabloman in shock. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Diabloman replied. “If you kill a supervillain you will receive respect and praise. Better still, you will receive fear. If you kill a superhero you will receive condemnation and hatred. Every superhero in the world will consider it their personal duty to bring you to justice. Very often, you will not be taken alive, even by the greatest paragons amongst them. Believe me, I speak from experience on this.”

“Is that why supervillains leave superheroes in easily escapable death traps?” I was only half-joking.

“Yes,” Diabloman said, without irony.

Cindy was, however, still focused on my earlier words. “Hold on, back to this murder every other supervillain thing. Does this include the cute sexy ones?”

Looking in my rear view mirror, I saw her clutch her hair bunches and give me a pearly white smile.

Smirking at her transparent attempts to manipulate me, I said, “I don’t know. I’ll have to run that by my wife. I’m sure she’ll ask me to spare one or two of them in the future.”

“Eesh.” Cindy blanched.

“Anything else?” I said, driving through the dark and dingy streets of Falconcrest City.

“You will need to spend most of the money you acquired on this heist,” Diabloman said.

“What?”  I was tempted to hit the brakes. I’d been envisioning a certain amount of financial security from this point on.

“To be a supervillain, you must command respect from your henchmen. For that, you must display the wealth they are expected to have. You must be flashy and theatrical in a way which intimidates and inspires others to want to be around you.”

“Uh-huh”

Cindy nodded, understanding. “It’s why gangsters wear lots of gold rings and necklaces. I learned that in Super-Criminal Psychology 101.”

I looked at Cindy in the rear view mirror. “You took that too?”

“It was one of my electives,” Cindy said. “Didn’t you switch out and get your Master’s degree in History?”

“Yes. I thought it would be more useful than it’s turned out to be. At least it’s still useful as hypothetical toilet paper.”

Diabloman ignored Cindy’s digression. “In order to maintain cooperation from authorities, you must spread around the wealth. I haven’t even mentioned the equipment costs. Freeze rays and giant robot labs do not pay for themselves.”

“Well that, at least, makes sense,” I said, thinking about his words for a second. “So, what you’re telling me is as soon as I make a fortune due to super-crime, I’m going to end up blowing it?”

“Yes. It is the vicious cycle we exist in,” Diabloman replied, giving a heavy sigh. “You will be required to make even bigger scores in order to break even.”

“Then why am I doing it?” I asked the obvious question.

“To gain respect. A supervillain without respect does not live very long. Other villains will attack you, target your loved ones, and eliminate your henchmen.” Diabloman’s voice had a grave authoritativeness which reminded me of my grandfather.

I wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to my wife. ‘I’m sorry, Honey, I stole six million dollars in cash but we’re still having trouble paying the bills’ was going to go over like a ton of bricks.

“
You could always retire
.”

“You be quiet!”

“What?” Cindy asked.

“Not you!” I said, almost getting sideswiped by a car running a red light. Talking with the forces in my head and driving was difficult.

“He’s talking to his magical cloak,” Diabloman said. “It belonged to the Nightwalker and is haunted by the spirits of all previous bearers.”

“It is?”

“
That would have been part of the orientation. You know if you’d bothered listen to me for more than a few minutes
.”

“You bear a heavy curse.” Diabloman spoke with a sage-like tone. “Being a supervillain will exact a heavy toll on you as well, but not as much as the Reaper’s Cloak shall.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“Yes,” Diabloman said. “I researched the Nightwalker for a decade before I made my move against him.”

“And you still weren’t able to beat him,” Cindy said. It was amazing, she’d actually
lost
tact since her high school years.

Diabloman, in an instant, had his hands around her neck.

Merciless, may I break her neck?”

“No.”

Cynthia wasn’t afraid. “Try it, Buster.”

“No killing each other.”

“All right,” they both said at once.

“
You are all insane
.”

“Probably,” I said. “So, Diablo, Cindy, can you hook me up with a guy who can set me up with a lair? Maybe someone I can talk to about getting a better Merciless Mobile?”

“Please don’t call it that,” Cindy said. “It’s bad enough I’m traveling in a minivan. You don’t have to make it worse by giving it a name.”

“No promises.”

“I know someone who might be able to help you.” Diabloman rubbed his chin. “Just a note, with the recent influx of supervillains into the city with the Nightwalker’s death, it will be difficult to get the usual haunts.”

“Usual haunts?” I asked, not having a clue as to what they were talking about.

“Amusement parks, toy factories, and so on. Abandoned warehouses are the pits, though,” Cindy said. “Let’s not get one of those. We should start a new trend of supervillains in luxury high-rises with live-in models.”

“Man,” I said, sighing. “Who knew being a supervillain was so damn
complicated
?”

“Everyone,” Cindy said.

“It is a rather well-known bit of truth,” Diabloman replied.

“
Yes
.”

I was about to respond to them all with a rather stinging bit of sarcasm when I suddenly felt like my chest was about to explode. I had to pull over and park the car, my breath became ragged as I had to labor for every breath.

“Gary, are you having a heart attack?” Cindy sounded concerned, which was surprising. Since reuniting with her earlier today, I’d been under the impression she’d ingested the supervillain Kool-Aid wholeheartedly.

“I don’t know... I’ve never had one before,” I said, coughing.

“
You’re not having a heart attack. Believe me, I would know. Your death is marked on the Grim Reaper’s calendar along with everyone else and so far we’ve not been wrong yet
.”

“You know my...” I cleared my throat. “My death date?”

“
Do you
want
to know it
?”

“No!” I shouted at Cloak. “Life is depressing enough without knowing when I’m going to die.”

“Do I even want to know?” Cindy looked at Diabloman.

“No,” Diabloman said. “You do not.”

After a few seconds the pain in my chest receded and my head cleared a bit.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” I asked.

“Bad chili fries?” Cindy asked, looking concerned. “Do you want us to take you to a hospital?”

“Not you.” I waved her away. “I need to work on talking to my magical cloak in private.”

“
You detected a spirit. A very old spirit. One of the enemies of the Balance.
”

“I need to sit down for the full orientation it seems. I don’t recall ‘having heart attacks around old ghosts’ mentioned amongst the downsides.”

“This falls under ‘you will see dead people,’ Master. Don’t worry. It will become easier over time.”

Looking around to see where this sensation was coming from, I saw a little girl standing across the road. She looked no more than twelve and had long black hair which shined under the streetlights. Her attire was anachronistic, almost Edwardian.  She held a single red balloon in her left hand.

“That’s a ghost?” I asked.

“Who’s a ghost?” Cindy questioned, looking frightened. “Oh God, are we getting haunted like in
The Shining
? Is it a pair of spooky twin girls?”

“The spooky girl part is right. There’s just one of them, though.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “You guys stay here; I’m going to go investigate.”

“As you wish, Merciless,” Diabloman said. “I shall meditate on my past victories.”

“Uh, sure. Go right ahead.” Stepping out of the car, I asked Cloak, “So, what do I do now?”

“
Anything you want. You can sense the dead but you do not have to do anything about them
,” Cloak sounded forlorn, as if the problem was too big even for him. “
The Lost are a problem far beyond the scope of mere mortals like yourself
.”