Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (9 page)

Wyatt tossed the file at Cory, who
ignored it completely.  The man didn’t even turn his head as the file spun off
the table and onto the floor.  Asshole.  That contest was rigged by the TV
network. 
Everyone
knew that.

Harlot raised her hand.  “
I
voted
for you, Wyatt.”  She glared at the other man.  “And everyone knows that
contest was
rigged
, Cory.  The producers of the show paid off the
judges, and then ignored my letters calling for a recount.”

Aww…for some reason, Wyatt found
that really sweet.  He smiled in spite of himself.  The image of a younger
Harlot carefully filling in the ballot and writing his name on it as her
favorite
Dreamy Boy…
  

Hench put his hand up.  “I voted
for you too, Wyatt.”

…That image was
less
sweet.

He pulled out a new folder.  He
looked down at the young lavender skinned woman sitting in the chair in front
of him.  “And this is… no one.  All we had was a blurry security camera photo
of her we recovered from a burned out bar in Wyoming.  No idea who she is, or
what she can do.”

The petite woman eyed him coldly;
her strange glowing hair gently swaying around her head like ghostly flames.  “Do
not speak to me.”  Her voice was harsh and accentuated in an odd manner, as if
English was not her first language.  “You are not
worthy
of my attention.”

Her voice was authoritative and
powerful, but very young.  She looked to be in her early twenties, maybe? 
Something told him that she was actually older than she appeared though.  MUCH
older, in fact.  An ancient evil.

Cynic looked up at him and pointed
at the woman.  “That’s Megaris.  She’s our head of… well… she’s basically the
head of the ‘Whatever-the-fuck-Meg-feels-like-doing-today Department’.  We
won’t try to stop her.  She’s like from outer space or the future or another
dimension or a god or ghost or something.  Maybe all of them.  Don’t know for
sure, and am too afraid of her to ask.  Just try not to piss her off, wonderboy. 
She’s… she’s not a team player, are you Meg?”

The woman remained silent and
stared at the table top like she could see something they couldn’t.  Wyatt
found himself watching it for a moment, as well; waiting expectantly for the
table to make its move.  He shook his head to clear it.  Everyone here was
insane.  Where were all the NORMAL people who decided to become super-villains? 
“Uh-huh.  And what can she do?”

She looked down at her hands as if
remembering all the things they had done, and then her head whipped around to
glare at him… which was actually kind of eerie.  Especially since her eyes had
no pupils or irises; just solid white and they seemed to glow faintly. 

 “I have crushed suns in the palm
of my hand and borne witness to the birth of galaxies.  I stood on the eternal
shores of time and watched as the Universe itself came into existence, and I
laughed
at its petty insignificance.  I have seen the mothers of a million worlds
clutch their children to their breast in terror at my approach, and have burned
ageless and powerful civilizations to ash simply for my own amusement.  I have…”

Wyatt rolled his eyes and interrupted
her by pulling out a pen to add more information to her file.  “Fine, fine. 
Whatever.  Let me just quick take care of this… Code name: Megaris.  Hair:
Ummm… fire.  Eyes: weird.  Skin color: pale Grimace.  Powers and abilities: Well…
I’ll just put down ‘scary female version of Tyrant.’  That’s close enough.” 

Half the room winced.  Henchmen squeaked
in terror and ducked under the table.

Harlot very slowly stood up, her
voice taking on a gentle, calming tone as if trying to talk a lion down from
mauling him.  “Megaris… honey… now please just try and calm down.  He didn’t
mean that.  He meant no disrespect… I know that you think you have to…” she
gave a nervous laugh.  “…
hurt
someone, but you really don’t have to. 
We’re all your friends and…”

Megaris ignored her and watched
Wyatt for a moment with her vacant eyes, then she went back to staring at the
tabletop.  “Humans are
vermin
.  Roaches infesting existence, and continuously
squealing
at me like piglets waiting to be slaughtered.  I do not desire
the ‘friendship’ of such a life-form any more than I would seek the ‘friendship’
of an insect which I was preparing to
step on
.  I am above the mortal
concepts of friend or enemy, good or evil, darkness or light.  I am
Megaris
;
illimitable and amaranthine.  I have existed since before the very concept of
time itself; ceaseless and
unrepentant
.  I will look upon this world
when it is nothing but a hollow and burned out husk, utterly devoid of life,
and the fetid
stench
of the race of man is long forgotten.  I tire of
you, ‘
J.
Wyatt Ferral
.’  Do not speak to me again.”

Cynic put his head back and laughed
hysterically.  “Meg’s a pip, ain’t she?  Always flirtin’ with the fellas.  That
one?”  He pointed at her again.  “She breaks legs… and
hearts
.”  His
smile disappeared instantly and his voice took on a serious tone.  “…But we all
respect her contributions to the team, and love having her stay here with us. 
Truly an honor.”  He waved at her.  “Thanks for not killing us yet, Meg!”

She ignored him and slowly put her
ear down to the table as if listening to it.  “…The table is
angry
…”

Wyatt ignored her, and glanced down
at the large bearded man dressed in a black scale mail tunic, and holding a
golden trident in one gloved hand.  The man’s expression was one of someone who
was obviously trying to look far more regal and important than they actually
were.

“Code Name: Lord Sargassum.  Real
name:  Lord Julian Thalassic Sargassum.  Age: unknown.  Hair:  Black.  Eyes: Turquoise. 
Claiming to be the son of Neptune and a human woman, Sargassum has declared
himself ‘Ruler of the Seas’.”  He looked up from the file.  “Yeah, that’s a
completely
useless
thing to declare yourself the ruler of.  At least
pick someplace that’s important in some way.”

Sargassum’s eye’s narrowed.  “For
your information,
mortal,
71% of the Earth’s surface is covered by
water.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, but
unfortunately none of that is part of the
29%
of the Earth’s surface
that people actually give a shit about.”  He returned to the file.  “Abilities
include being able to breath underwater, control seaweed, and communicate with
fish.”  He looked up from his papers again.  “…I’m just not really seeing how
that can be put to any effective use?  I mean, do fish really have anything
that interesting to say?  Because the only time I want to order fish around is
when I’m searching for a restaurant that does a really good beer batter.”  He
shrugged.  “But whatever.”  He turned the page.  “Currently
oversees
… if
you’ll excuse the pun… the C of C’s underwater base in the North Atlantic…”

Cynic scoffed.  “Which was a
fucking waste of money.  It’s at the
BOTTOM OF THE GODDAMN OCEAN!
  I
mean, who in the fucking hell wants to be down there besides, Jules?  What
crimes could we
POSSIBLY
commit?  Huh?  Unless those weird aliens from
The
Abyss
show up, we’re shit out of luck in the crime department.  We can’t
even access the internet, just watch the fish float by and worry about the
pressure making our heads explode.  It’s boring as
FUCK!
”

Wyatt ignored him and continued. 
“Claims to be responsible for….”  He blinked at the words.  “…
sinking the
Titanic
.”

Julian regally buffed his
fingernails on his tunic.  “It
got in my way
.”

Gurrier blew some dust off of the
sculpture he was working on, his voice taking on a slightly bored
conversational tone.  “It was an ugly boat anyway.”  He shaved off another
splinter of wood.  “And the food was
terrible
.  Too much salt.”

“…and is wanted for 254 counts of
international piracy and crimes on the high seas.  He claims to have diplomatic
immunity based on his lordship over the oceans, but thus far his assertions
have not been recognized by any governing body.”

Cynic rested his hands behind his
head.  “But we’re all crossing our fingers for you there, Jules.  At least then
you’d finally be able to contribute
SOMETHING
to the group besides giving
us those great guided tours when we all visit
Seaworld.
”

Julian glared at him.  “Forgive me
if my lordship over the watery depths isn’t as important as YOUR crusade against
a
puppet
.”  He snorted in dismissal.  “At least, I
HAVE
someplace
that wants me.  MY people didn’t
throw me out
, unlike some OTHERS here I
could mention.”  He pointed the trident at him. “You’re an
embarrassment
.”

Cynic stood up.  “And you’re doing
a hell of a job running your little territory too; your ‘dad’ would be sooooo
proud.  Why, you’re unmatched in the field of underwater crime.  If they ever DO
get around to building a bank on the ocean floor or an aquatic convenience store,
that fucker is
TOAST!  You’re going to be AAAAAAALL over that shit!
”

Megaris looked up from the table
and leaned over it so that she should address Harlot.  “Fish Man and The One
with the Hideous Grin are arguing, again.  They’re disturbing me, Dark-haired
Girl. 
Make them stop
.”

Julian and Cynic sat down so fast
their chairs skidded backwards.  Apparently neither of them wanted to risk
angering Meg.

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  This place
was so crazy and overly dramatic.  He was getting more and more used to
disregarding the constant barrage of insanity though.  He moved on to the next
file.

“Okay, let’s hope the next guy is
at least MILDLY sane…”  He glanced down at it.  “Here’s a new one to me.  Code
name: The Chef.  Real name: Dennis Eugene Attenborough?”  He glanced around the
room looking for someone dressed as an evil gourmet.  “Chef?  Is he here?”

Suddenly a large bi-pedal lizard
sitting next to Poacher screamed at Wyatt; fangs extending.  A large scaly
frill around his neck shot up as his bloodcurdling screech echoed through the
hall.  Wyatt blinked at the monstrosity for a moment and then at the small
Polaroid included in the file which showed the same… thing.

“Wait.  This… is The Chef?  THIS…
um…
whatever the hell it is,
calls itself
THE CHEF
?”

Wyatt stared at the reptilian
monster as it chewed on the metal chain attached around its neck.  Guilt Trip
turned to watch it as well.  The creature stopped suddenly and eyed the other man
suspiciously… as if wary that he was going to try to take the chain away from
it.

Wyatt closed the file.  “He’s got
nothing
to do with the culinary arts!  He’s some kind of lizard-person!  If you’re not
wearing a chef’s hat and attacking people with a meat clever while screaming at
them like an evil,
outrageously
French Gordon Ramsey, you have
NO
business taking the villainous
nome de guerre
of The Chef.”  He looked
at the sky and prayed for patience.  “Are you people really so clueless that I
have to tell you what your codenames need to be now?  Is that it?”

The lizard man screeched at him
again, one clawed hand scratching at the table.

Poacher pointed a finger at Wyatt. 
“I’ve just about had it with the way you’re treating us, you little piss ant. 
One more fucking word, and I’m going to make your skin into a throw run for the
den.  Denny doesn’t have to put up with your shit and neither do…”

The creature unexpectedly leapt at
Poacher and knocked him from his chair onto the black tile floor.  Its wide
jaws closed around the other man’s face, its head jerking back and forth in an
effort to break its victim’s neck and swallow his skull whole.  Poacher fought
to free himself from the monster’s teeth. 

…Everyone ignored his struggle for
life.

Wyatt mentally counted to ten. 
This place was… it was killing him.  These people were morons.  He took a deep
calming breath.  “You know what?  Forget it.  He wants to be
The Chef
? 
Fine.  A lizard called Chef.  Whatever.  Moving on…”  He pulled out another
file, trying his best not to kill anyone.  “Code name: Multifarious?  Real
name: unknown?  Powers: unknown, but rumor has it that this is the C of C’s
sniper, assassin, saboteur, and stealth expert.  Co-Chair of the Infiltration
and Elimination Department?  Hair: unknown? ...Wait… how the
hell
can
hair color be an unknown?”

Everyone looked at a person at the
end of the table dressed in a white beekeeper suit.  Wyatt walked over to the
individual.  Beneath the beekeeping hood the villain wore an opaque faceplate
covering their whole head in a shield of milky white, smooth plastic.  On the
surface, in place of the person’s face, was etched the WWII symbol popularly
known as ‘Kilroy’; a man with a large nose peeking over a wall, only the top
half of his head visible.  Very odd.  But on the other hand, that
WOULD
explain
why he woke up one morning six years ago to find that symbol spray-painted on
the main Freedom Squad computer screen in the war room along with the tagline: “
I
was here!”

Huh.  He had always wondered about
that…

Wyatt was unable to tell if the
figure beneath the mask was male or female due to the bulky costume which
concealed the villain’s form and every inch of skin.  He squinted down at them
questioningly.  “…Multifarious?”

The person shook their head and
then answered in a muffled and echoic voice from beneath the white faceplate.  “I
am not Multifarious.  Today I am…”  The person paused dramatically.  “…
The
Beekeeper!”