Bar Offers
After greeting Mammon and agreeing to let her stay, I really needed a break from the Roue Devard. And I knew just the place.
It had been a while since I’d been in Riggin’s. Which wasn’t actually all that surprising, given everything that had been happening. Between dealing with my new lair, the three villainesses now working under me, and having a superarms dealer who couldn’t take a hint, it didn’t exactly leave a lot of time to visit the watering hole.
But boy did I need it after dealing with Mammon.
Not to say it wasn’t enjoyable, but I was only mortal. And Mammon had demonstrated quite clearly her expertise in the craft of pleasure. I hadn’t had a workout like that in a very long time. I was also feeling more than a little dehydrated. And a beer sounded like just the ticket.
It was nice to pull out in front of the bar and see it was still there, same as ever. When you lived in a city where the neighborhood changed weekly thanks to apartment blocks being leveled by two morons with the strength to break continents having a dick measuring contest, you got to appreciate a certain consistency in your surroundings. And Riggin’s had that. It was the afterwork haunt for villains. Mostly industry kinds like me, but now and then you’d get casual or low-level villains stopping by too. It was that kind of place. Only rule was don’t start shit inside. Someone would break that rule once and a while, but never twice.
When I pushed open the door I couldn’t suppress a sigh of relief. Even just walking into the place made me feel calmer. The smell of beer, smoke, and ozone hung heavily in the air. It was a familiar smell, like coming home. Which was kinda sad, admittedly. But when you moved around as often as I ended up doing, home was a pretty alien concept. Well, it was. It seemed like I was turning the Roue Devard into my permanent base at this point.
Ah well.
There weren’t too many supers inside at this hour. A couple regulars. Shockjock was at the pool table, trying to keep his shoulder mounted electrodes out of the way as he lined up a shot, and I spotted the Caped Canary in one of the booths sitting with the Iron Lung, whose metal suit could barely fit in the seat. I gave the pair a nod when they caught my eye as I made my way to the bar.
Riggin grinned when he saw me. Or, tried to. Riggin had the look of a prizefighter whose prize was a face like it had been made from a much-abused leather shoe. He’d once been a henchmen to one of the bigger villains before his boss was inevitably taken down, and once the flying fortress had crashed and he got out of prison, he decided that taking superpowered punches was a young man’s game, and opened the bar, deciding to get out of the henching business.
“Victor,” he said, putting down a glass he’d been polishing. “Been a while. Started to wonder if you were dead.”
“Nope. Still kicking,” I said as I took a seat. “And dying doesn’t keep most out of the game for long.”
“Too true. You alone tonight? No hot things hanging off your arms?”
“Not tonight,” I said. “I just got back from some other business. Thought I’d stop by and see how things are going. Got a beer?”
“Sure,” Riggin said, reaching down and grabbing a bottle, glass so cool it was still sweating. He pushed it towards me and I took it. Mm. Nice and cold. Just how I liked it. With a flick of my powers I popped the cap off, then took a long drink. Ah. That hit the spot.
“Heard you’ve been real busy. Getting into organized villainy?” Riggin said.
“Something like that,” I said.
Riggin nodded. “Been a while since we had a villain org around like that. Got any henchmen?”
“Looking to get back into the business?” I said.
He laughed roughly. “Not at my age.” He rubbed his chin in memory. “I can’t take a punch like I used to.”
I chuckled. “I'm working a small thing,” I said in explanation. “Just me and a couple others.”
Riggin nodded along. “Sure. Sure. But ah, you might want to be careful, Victor.”
“Careful?” I said.
Riggin nodded, glancing around uneasily. He leaned in, his voice dropping. “I hear things,” he said, brushing a cauliflower ear. “Nothing definite, you get me, but I heard some stuff about that girl of yours.”
That didn’t narrow it down much. I had three of them these days. Possibly four. “Which one?”
“The pink haired one.”
“Psyren?” I said.
He nodded. “Sure thing. I hear there’s been some questions going around about her.”
That got my attention. To be honest, I’d have been more surprised if people weren’t talking about Psyren. Her big show at Orion’s Octagon had been designed to get eyeballs and interest. And it surely had, even if the promised super fight with Captain Kinetic hadn’t panned out owing to me crushing him under a mass of audio equipment. I thought back to those people at the Hall of Heroes I’d seen watching the highlights of the event.
But I had a feeling Riggin wasn’t talking about teenage girls gushing about the costumes or boys about the Songbird’s tits. “What kind of questions?” I asked.
He shifted his weight. “Nothing definite,” he admitted. “But someone’s been asking about her a lot. Talking to other villains about her and you. I don’t much like it.”
That made two of us. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem,” Riggin said. “I…”
He trailed off, straightening and looking towards the door. I turned my head.
Oh great.
I didn’t need to be told I was looking at a government agent. The tacky shades and dark suit told me that much at a glance. She was tall, thin, and looked like she was made of all angles. Her hair was cut short and straight just below the ears, her suit tight and sleek without a wrinkle and her glasses like two V’s.
Oh yeah. She had powers. Nobody looked that thematic without something to back it up. Though the government usually tried to avoid employing those with powers as their agents. Made them too unpredictable.
Usually.
I leaned back as she made straight for me. Well, here we go again. It would hardly be the first time I had a run in with government spooks. Agencies liked to keep an eye on powerful villains. All too often, said villains got their powers due to some military experiment, stolen hardware, or an EPA violation. I’d been dressed down when I first got into the business. A threat assessment or something. It hadn’t gone very far. Spooks are generally leery about grabbing supers for any reason. They’d tried a few times, of course, but they didn’t want to piss off the various hero associations and groups, not to mention running afoul of corporate heroes. Governments already had enough trouble with regular villains. If they lost the goodwill of heroes, that’d be a disaster just waiting to happen.
I rose from the bar and made my way towards a corner booth. Better get this over with. I wondered what they wanted this time? I couldn’t think of anything I’d done…
Oh.
Maybe it had to do with Teklin?
That wouldn’t surprise me. It was an open secret that mad scientists didn’t just sell to villains. If certain governments wanted more ‘unethical’ tech without having to go through the Pentagon or CIA’s standard ‘this may destroy the earth’ paperwork, they quietly filtered some money down to the real loons. And that’s not even mentioning how many villains were likely on the secret government payroll. I’d once had the idea floated my way about having a ‘battle’ at a certain nation’s new docks, and a large amount of cash promised if collateral damage just ‘happened’ to put the thing out of commission. I’d declined, naturally, but a week later Depth Charger blew up the thing while battling his nemesis, Oceania.
So though it wouldn’t be surprising that Teklin worked with some alphabet agency, what the hell would they want with me? That was the million-dollar question.
Well, one way to find out.
I slid into my usual booth, drink near at hand. As expected, she came up to my table and took a seat across from me.
“Victor Langton?”
“That’s me,” I said. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised she got my last name, but it was still a bit disconcerting. Hadn’t heard it in a long time. “What can I do for the government?”
“Why assume I am with any agency?”
I looked over her immaculate black suit and into her eyes, as emotionless as marbles. “Just a guess,” I said drily.
She stared at me in silent for a long moment. “Mister Langton,” she said. “My name is Jane.”
“Jane Doe?” I guessed.
“Yes,” she said.
Shocker.
“Well, what can I do for you?” I said.
“Have you come into contact with any unusual individuals of late, Mister Langton?”
“...Can you be a bit more specific?” I said.
“Strange people. Out of the ordinary. Unusual in any way.”
“Lady, my best friend can become upward of twenty men, and my tailor is a demoness from hell. You’re gonna have to give me more to work with here.”
She looked at me over her glasses, and I could practically see her mulling over her words, trying to give me as absolutely little as possible while also just enough to get what she wanted. Ah, bureaucrats. Always so helpful.
“Someone… not human,” she finally said.
Ah, well, that did narrow it down a bit. Though I’d met with a number of weirdos, which was a given in my line of work, the ones who were not ‘human’ was a smaller list. Not a hugely smaller, given that your definition of ‘human’ tended to be a bit liberal in my career, but still narrower.
I tapped my fingers on the table. “Any clue about what this is about?” I said.
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“Since you came by to talk to me, it kind of feels like I do.”
“Please simply answer the question.”
I frowned. My normal instinct was to cooperate with authorities to the absolute bare minimum. Since I’m a villain, that’s pretty standard, really. Anyone working for the law are always looking for some slip up in order to finally nail you with a crime, even if you didn’t do anything. Bastards. But at the same time, I wasn’t looking to antagonize anyone with the power to make my life harder.
Haaaah.
Things would be so much simpler if I really was a megalomaniac bent at grinding the world under my heel.
“I fought a squidman not too long ago,” I said. “And also some maniac who was selling super weapons. How’s that?”
“Anyone else?”
Really? That wasn’t it? I tried to get a read from her face, and though she did a damn good job not showing anything, I’d had staring contests with Carter, and nobody could outstare that bitch. And though Jane wasn’t showing anything, her posture betrayed a certain interest. It wasn’t much, but the way she subtly leaned forward and how her eyes scrutinized me told me she was looking for something specific. I had something she wanted. She might not be sure what it was, but she knew I had it.
“Not really,” I said plainly. “But why ask me? What should I be looking out for?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a matter of national security.”
“Is the world in danger?”
“Once again, I cannot answer. Are you sure you’ve encountered no other unusual individuals?”
“I could tell you a lot more if you gave me more information.”
Jane shook her head. “I’ve already provided you with everything I’m permitted.”
Yeah, I had some doubts about that. But if she wasn’t going to helpful, then why the hell would I be? I simply shrugged. “Well, sorry I can’t do more for you.”
“I see,” was all she said, then reached into her pocket and brought out a card, laying it on the table. “Well, should you remember something, you can reach me here. Your country appreciates your assistance.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, picking up the card. Well, look at that. Black on both sides aside from a phone number in white. Probably a burner. No agency or anything. And Calibri font? Geeze. “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said.
“That’s all we ask,” Jane said as she rose from the booth. She turned, her heels clicking across the floor as she left the bar, opening the door barely a crack before vanishing into the night.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling heavily. Yeesh. Déjà vu. I flipped the card about in my fingers, reading the number again and again.
Well.
Looked like the government was on my case again.
I was really going to need that drink now.
And apparently I needed a second one, because no sooner had I polished off the first bottle a second was before me. I looked at it in surprise, then up at Riggin.
“Oh, thanks,” I said.
“No problem,” Riggin said, even as he leaned over the table, his voice dropping. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I said, grabbing the bottle and pulling it closer. “It was just your usual spook stuff. Probably trying to scare me straight or something.”
“Hope it didn’t bother you.”
I waved him off. “It’d take more than that to get to me.”
Riggin nodded, the leathery scar tissue that was his face contorting in a grin as he walked away. He was a good guy, despite having once helped a lunatic try to smash the moon into the earth. But the job market was tough for guys like Riggin. I didn’t blame him. And hell! He opened the one good bar in Metro City, so that’s that.
But I was about to have a second guest that night to interrupt my drinking. Which I realized only once the figure slumped up to my table and flopped into the seat across from me.
Normally I hated sharing my table with anyone. Especially after my business with the spook, but I’d make an exception for Steve, aka, Multiple Man.
It was hard work being a villain for hire these days. Especially when on a budget, so having a guy who could turn into extra guys was always handy. Steve frequently filled in as henchmen, civvies, or any other anonymous extra I needed to help out in my career of casual villainy. He was damn good at it too, even if he looked like a homeless guy. Slouching, his clothes loose, his expression lazy and eyes lidded like he was half asleep, but given the right costume, he could play anyone. Including the two security guards Glacia had iced in the diamond robbery.
He was also Psyren’s older brother, and was the reason I currently had the sadistic psychic hanging around me. Not that I was complaining. Well, not anymore. When I first got saddled with her, I’ll admit I hadn’t been thrilled about it, but things changed fast in this business.
But I doubted Steve was here to reminisce about old times. Something was up. Steve usually carried himself like a sack of laundry, but right now there was a tension tightening in him. Instead of lolling in the seat like he was on the verge of passing out, Steve leaned forward, arms folding in front of him, his cap sagging over his lidded eyes.
“Eyyyy, Victor,” Steve said.
“Steve,” I said, nodding. “What’s going on.”
Steve took off his hat and ran his fingers through his mussy hair. He blew some air out of his mouth, his head turning, scanning the bar as he leaned in closer. “Glad to catch you, man. I was on the verge of calling you up. Making a meeting. But I’m glad I don’t gotta. Needed to talk to you. Talk to you bad.”
I pulled my bottle closer and took a pull of it, barely tasting it. So much for a relaxing night at the bar. “Yeah?” I said. “What about?”
“You know I got my hands in a lot of pies, man? A lot of hands in a lot of pies.”
I nodded. I knew. Steve didn’t only work for me. He farmed himself to a number of jobs and industries. Fucked if I knew half of them, but it kept him busy. “Yeah,” I said. “And?”
“Well,” Steve said. “I got a couple me’s around in certain places. Guys are always looking for henchmen. Get me? So, I get one of me hired in most of the big players groups. Small ones too. Likely ones.”
“Must pay well,” I said.
“Money ain’t the point, man. Not at all. It’s about the information, man. Gotta get it from the source, see?” Steve said, tapping a finger against his temple.
“You’re an information broker too?” I said.
He shook his head. “Nah, man. Nah. Nothing like that. Ain’t no business like that. I only go in for one kinda information. And that’s about my sister.”
“Come again?” I said.
Steve leaned in closer, bringing with him a haze of booze and some excessive cologne, but I ignored it as he continued, his voice growing lower, more intense. “My sister. Psyren’s a good girl, man.”
Well, that was a debateable point. But I wasn’t going to get into it with her brother. “Right,” I said.
“But she’s powerful, ya know?” Steve continued. “Real powerful. And that kinda power, man? People’d love to get their hands on it. And her.”
Steve didn’t need to tell me that. Anyone who’d been in the super business for a while knew how dangerous and useful psychics could be. Whether it was extracting info from your enemies, brainwashing heroes, or starting a spoon bending business, mental powers were the ones to have. Which was a pretty raw deal for said psychics, seeing as their opinions on the matter didn’t often factor into things. The reason most psychics ended up as villains was more defensive than anything, though their thoroughly fucked up childhoods probably played a role in that.
A fate, evidently, that Steve had been driven to ensure his sister didn’t share.
I had to lean back a little, understanding hitting me at the lengths Steve was willing to go to protect his sister. “You’ve been infiltrating villain organizations,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Keeping tabs on them in case they plotted anything against Psyren.”
“She’s my sister, man,” he said, shrugging. “What else is a big bro to do?”
God damn. I already respected Steve, but we were at some new heights with that tidbit of info. But praise could wait. “What do you have?” I asked.
Steve grimaced. “Had one of me’s hunching in a group of mad scientists. Real bad guys, ya know? They all got together to do somethin’ evil. Real bad, man.”
“How bad?” I asked.
Steve glanced around the bar again, then reached into the folds of his rumpled jacket. He pulled out a bunch of papers and laid them on the table.
“My me musta slipped up with them, because I ain’t heard of him for a while. But I did get a feel. I think they made him take an acid bath.”
“Sounds about right,” I said. Pretty standard for evil geniuses. I had little doubt though that Steve’s copy had managed to hold out if they interrogated him. Steve’s copies only lasted twenty-four hours, and then went poof. So even if some megalomaniac managed to resist the initial impulse of dumping him in a shark tank, they’d get no info out of him before he vanished. I hadn’t really considered it, but Steve really was the ideal mole. Even shapeshifters had some tells that any villain or hero worth their salt could pick up. It was like AI art. If you were familiar enough with the medium, you could pick out the signs. But Steve had something even better than being able to look like anyone. He could look like no one.
No, really. Though Steve’s mannerisms and style off duty were instantly recognizable, he was excellent at disguising them for the situation. And if he shaved, he really had one of ‘those’ faces. The kind of face that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd. Steve was a master at being a background character, which suited me well when I needed him. Henchmen weren’t supposed to draw attention. Hence the anonymizing uniforms. I was honestly in awe of his ability to become just some dude. But clearly I hadn’t considered the many other potentials of that.
But Steve had, and I was about to really appreciate that.
“So what do you have?” I asked, leaning forward as well.
Steve nodded. “There’s a group. Used to be five, now down to two. Bunch of mad scientists who called themselves the ‘Brain Trust.’ They started backstabbing each other a little while ago. Worked together to build a machine. Something that’s supposed t’ be able to control the whole world, man. Get in everybody’s heads. Make them all obedient to the masters of the machine, man. Called it the Mind Spike.”
Pretty standard trope and evil scheme, I had to say. Never worked out, of course. At least, not so far. Otherwise Steve and I wouldn’t be having this conversation. But it sounded like this might be a more personal thing for us. “Let me guess,” I said. “They need a psychic to power it.”
Steve shot a finger pistol my way and clicked his tongue. “Bang on, my man. Bang on. I stole some of the schematics before they melted my me. Here’s everything I could get out,” Steve said, passing me a USB stick.
I took it, holding it up. “Hm. I’ll get Dolly to look at it,” I said, pocketing the stick. “See what she can figure out.”
“Cool, man. Cool. Dunno which of them have the machine proper though,” Steve said grimly with a shrug of his bony shoulders. “None of them trusted each other. And since now they’re bumping each other off, sounds like that was smart of them. But I got a list, my man. Got their faces. Sorta.”
I looked down at the papers Steve spread out for me. The first one showed the whitest son of a bitch I’d ever seen. And I don’t mind ‘mayonnaise is spicy’ kind of white. I meant like he’d gotten dipped in bleach. I almost thought the photo was monochrome until I noticed the red pen he was holding. He had hair the colour of polished bone and wore a white doctor’s jacket. His teeth were so pristine they might have been made of ivory, and grinned like a full set of piano keys. There was something distinctly manic in that kind of smile. It was the sort of smile only a man trying to sell you religion or a new vacuum had.
“Doctor Denton. Craaaaazy bastard,” Steve said grimly. “Used to be a dentist, until he figured it’d be easier to cause pain as a supervillain. Reeeeeal weird, man. But he knows his stuff. Big in bioengineering and stuff like that. Bit over my head, but he wasn’t too smart, my man. Not too smart. I got a lead on his lab.”
“I see,” I said. I was a little surprised to find a genocidal dentist made the team. Not the crazy bit, but the dental stuff. Your usual supervillain tended to come out of the med schools or botany labs. Less engineering students than you’d think, but the ones who did tended to go very big. Most expected political science students would get into the whole ‘world domination’ schtick, but it was the art students you really had to watch out for. When those guys put down the paintbrushes, you wouldn’t like what they picked up instead. “And the other survivor?”
“Ah, that one’s gonna be tricky, my man,” Steve said, moving Denton’s photo aside to reveal the second one, which appeared to be a brain in a jar. “His human name’s Abbie Normal, but goes by the Mind. Reaaaaal bad stuff, that one. He’s the brains of the organization. I think he’s got the machine, but I’m not sure. But he’s done a job hiding from me. Switched up his lairs, and I can’t figure out where he moved to.”
I took the photos and the documents Steve had stapled to them. They were pretty thorough in terms of potential lairs and other info. Had to say I was impressed. “Good job,” I said.
“Whatcha gonna do, man?” Steve said.
I glanced up at Steve and saw him nervously twiddling his fingers, his doleful eyes staring hopefully up at me. I shrugged. “Well,” I said, shuffling the papers together. “First, I’m going to find these two, and then calmly and politely ask them to cease their evil ways and leave Psyren alone.”
“Cool, man. Cool. And uh, if they say no?”
“Oh,” I said, shrugging. “Well, if they refuse I’ll shove an iron pole so far up their asses they’ll be able to hang a flag out of their mouths.”
Steve’s face split into a grin. “Eyyyy!” he said, easing back in the booth, spreading his hands out towards me. “My man! My friend, I knew I could count on you. This, Victor? This is why I knew my sister’d be safe with you. You don’t know what this means to me, man.”
“It’s the least I can do,” I assured him as I tucked the papers he’d given me into my pocket. “I’ll get Dolly to work trying to track down the lairs of these bozos, and then I’ll give them a stern talking to. And if words fail, I’m sure violence will be the answer.”
Steve shook his head. “I love you, man,” he sniffed. “Couldn’t have found a better villain to take my sister under his wing. You know what? Next job you need me for? Pro bono, man.”
“Appreciated, but it’s fine,” I said. “I’ll look after Psyren without needing you to do that, Steve. Just keep me updated if you find out anything else.”
“Of course, man. Of course. Don’t even need to ask,” Steve said, pushing himself out of his seat and leaning over, grabbing my hands and shaking them between his. “And thanks again. I knew I could count on you.”
“Heading out?” I said.
“Gotta, man. Gotta. Still got some jobs going on and need to see if I can dig any more info up. But I know where ta find ya, man. Don’t worry. I hear about anything else, you’ll know about it.”
“Cheers,” I said, raising my beer in parting salute.
Steve waved and slumped out of the bar. I took another drink of my brew, but the taste was gone for me. I sighed, putting it down and putting some money on the table. Fuck. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. No sooner do I deal with the goddam superheroes on my back, then a bunch of villains come along to stir up trouble. But no sense complaining about it. The sooner I found those bastards and took them down, the sooner I could get back to doing proper villainy. This stuff was taking way too much bandwidth to let me scheme up some proper evil plots.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I made my way out of the bar, taking the back way out. I had to get going. Heading back to the chalet sounded good. I needed to sort my thoughts out and let the girls know about this latest problem. Especially Psyren. She wouldn’t be able to move around as freely as before until I took care of things. Fucking hell, those two mad scientists were gonna pay for this. Hopefully I wasn’t going to need to make an example of them. Ideally, Psyren would still be considered a low-level psychic, so either these guys were getting desperate for test subjects, or they had an idea of her true power. Either way, I might have to do something drastic. I got to my car fished out my keys, and as I did so, I caught a glimpse of… something out of the corner of my eye.
I turned my head slowly. A… figure was shambling down the street. Well, shambling was maybe a bit generous. They were walking like a drunk who’d had all the bones sucked out of their body, weaving from one side to the other, limbs flopping about. It was unnerving to say the least. They were utterly draped in clothes, like a walking rag pile, a ratty hat dipping low over the face, scarfs up, leaving nothing but a slit of shadow in which glowed a pair of yellow eyes.
I slowly put my keys back in my pocket as the figure swayed to my car, bumping into the hood and nearly toppling over it before splaying an arm over it to support themselves. It lifted a gloved hand to its face as if stroking its chin.
“Well hello-o-o-o there,” he (I assumed) said, voice humming like he was sitting on an overloaded laundry machine. “Fancy m-m-m-m-meeting you here.”
“How so?” I said.
“You are-are-are Magnero-o-o-n, yes? We... I... wou-ou-ould like to expe-e-el words with you-ou-ou.”
Uuuugh. I could already feel a headache coming on from… whatever this was gonna be. I really did not want to deal with this right now. “Uh huh,” I said. “Listen, I was just about to head home. Can we take a raincheck on… whatever this is?”
“Why wait for-or-or rain when we can discuss-uss-uss it now?” he said. “I assure you, you will not miss-iss-iss out on this.”
Looked like I wasn’t going to get outta this the easy way. What was I dealing with here? Probably not human. Not with all those rags and the way he was walking. Was he magic? Probably magic. Or eldritch. Neither were exactly my favourite kinds of people to work with. Hopefully he was a fey. Being able to manipulate cold iron came in really handy with those little bastards.
“…Alright,” I said slowly, turning to face him. Even as I did, I let my powers bleed out slowly, feeling up the surroundings. He didn’t have anything on him worth noting, although some of his rags had some metal zippers and buttons, but given we were in the middle of the city, there was plenty of material around I could make use of. A neon sign jutting from the building flickering as I tested its screws, some trashcans rattled softly as my magnetic powers seized them, and even some change lying in a gutter clinked in magnetic resonance to my powers.
“So,” I said, crossing my arms, already manipulating the ridged steel of my bracers and anklets in case I needed to deploy my armour, “what do you need?”
“We… me… I require-ire-ire your assistance with a task-ask-ask that would be of great mutual ben-ben-benefits to you and us.”
“That right?”
“Yes. And the reward shall be-be-be significant indeed.”
“Significant?”
“The continent you know of-of-of as Australia.”
Hoo boy. Either I was dealing with the world’s worst con man or even worse, a new megalomaniacal villain.
See, this was a problem with lots of new bad guys. They get their powers after a radiation storm, feel like a god, and then get the idea that they can take over the world with ease. Usually they get taken down pretty fast, seeing as their ‘plans’ tend to revolve around kidnapping the president or just threatening your local large metropolis. Or they’re so hopped up on their first taste of power they run out, cause some destruction, and then get clobbered by a real hero. True, there are plenty of legitimate threats to the world, such as the Guild of Villainous Foes or the Irradiated Man, but those are the ones who either have the powers to last long enough to be labeled a menace, the clout of experience, or just managed through survivorship bias. All that said, some new villains have that interesting blend of stupidity and basic planning that don’t make them more of a threat, but do make them far more annoying. Usually they try to get together a team or a crew or something and then go rob a bank or a weapons lab, but some always ended up coming to me to try and recruit me into their group.
Obviously, a firm no was my reply. For one, I was a villain for hire, not for conquest. I only tried to rob people I already cleared it with. And two, even if I wasn’t, nine times out of ten guys like him got clobbered on day one and ended up cooling their heels in prison until, inevitably, he broke out to get arrested again. Or a streeter ended up splattering his brains over the sidewalk.
Either way, not exactly in the cards for me. But if there was one thing I knew about planetary domination types, they didn’t take rejection easily. I had to let him down easy.
And prepare for him to take it badly.
“Listen,” I said, my magnetic powers circumspectly lifting one of the trashcans just out of his sight. “You seem like a nice… person, but I’m not really interested in the whole… world conquering thing.”
He tilted his head at me. “You’re no-o-ot?”
“Not really, no,” I admitted. That’s it, just drift the can over like so… “But I’m sure you’ll find plenty of excellent villains who’d love to lend you a hand in conquering the globe.”
The humming under his clothes grew louder. What the hell was he doing under those rags? “This is a most-ost-ost unfortunate decision,” he said in a low tone. “We ask-ask-ask you to reconsider-er-er.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Then you are-are-are a fool!” he shouted, grabbing his scarf and ripping it off.
I’d seen a lot of weird looking villains before, but this one had to take the cake. I found myself not looking at a face. Well, it was a face. It had holes for eyes, a mouth, and what was probably a nose. The problem was they were made entirely of bees.
“You will rue-ue-ue the day you refused the hand-and-and of friendship from The Swarm!” he cried, his voice reverberating, buzzing like a million tiny voices were speaking in unison. “Though once a simple apiary worker, when I was exposed-osed-osed to experimental pesticides, I found my mind-ind-ind joined to thousands-ands-ands of living bees! And soon-oon-oon, the world will know the sting of my hives!”
“Yeah, okay. Cool,” I said blandly. “So if we’re done here...”
“We are far from done-one-one with you, Magneron!” Swarm said, lifting a buzzing gloved hand, the glow of his yellow eyes burning like twin suns. “Though you may have spurned our-our-our friendship, we shall not let you live to impede-ede-ede us! For the time of the bee is now-ow-ow. And you shall be our first victim!”
Alright. Talkie time over.
With a gesture I upended the trash can.
Swarm paused in the midst of his dramatic rant as a sudden deluge of garbage rained down on him. He looked up, and when he did, I dropped the can right on top of him.
“Mrrrrm!” Swarm shouted in shock.
Not giving him a moment to recover, I flicked my hand, my powers responding and flipping over the can with a bang of metal. Before Swarm had a chance to escape, I slammed the lid in place.
It wasn’t a second too soon. The can began to bounce and bang as Swarm attempted to get out. The humming sound grew in intensity, buzzing furiously within the metal. But though Swarm may have been made by millions of bees, that didn’t give him enough strength to cut through metal.
I pinched my fingers, my magnetic powers crimping the lid so it wasn’t going to pop off anytime soon. Then I planted the trash can among the others in the alleyway. Let’s see... trash wasn’t picked up until Thursday, so four days should give the Swarm a chance to mull over his career choice. Or he’d starve to death. Whichever came first. I had a pretty good instinct about those sorts of things. You tended to when you spent your career fighting people with puns for names and who dress like Comicon rejects.
Opening my car, I slid into the seat. Time to head home.
It had been a long day.