Secrets of a D-List Supervillain
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Authors: Jim Bernheimer
Secrets of a D-List Supervillain
by
Jim Bernheimer
Copyright © 2014 by Jim Bernheimer and EJB Networking, Inc
Cover design by Raffaele Marinetti.
Visit his online gallery at http://www.raffaelemarinetti.it/
Book design by Jim Bernheimer.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Visit the author’s website at www.JimBernheimer.com
First Publication: December 2014
Dedication and Acknowledgements
There is something special when an author finishes a third book in a series. I’ve officially made it to the land of trilogy. Shockingly enough, I’ve written three books in a series and people are still reading it. Pretty amazing stuff if you ask me! Thanks to the fans for coming on this trip with me. You folks keep coming back and I’ll keep writing.
As always, I want to thank Kim, Laura, and Marissa. You are the reason I keep at this.
My group of advanced readers (Flora “Crazy Cat Lady” Demuth, David “42” Bagini, Graham “Frat Boy” Adzima, and Todd “No Filter Ever” Osborne) deserve special thanks for being a sounding board and helping me to navigate the treacherous backwaters of this ever evolving story. My hope is to one day be successful enough to visit all of you except for Todd. I see his ass at work every day. So, I actually hope I will be successful enough to only see Todd occasionally. That would be cool.
David Wood and Janine Spendlove (Garner) have both taught me lessons in being a published author that go far beyond writing. David is a master of productivity and every time I am fortunate enough to be in the presence of Janine and her husband, Ron, I am reminded of the power of positive thinking and how people who are kind and gracious can get ahead in this business.
Janet Bessesy at Dragonfly Editing takes a bow for hammering out my plethora of grammatical errors and I certainly keep her busy. I’ll go ahead and thank Jeffrey Kafer for what will once again be the incredible audiobook he creates.
There’s a whole bunch of other people I thanked with cameos – Patrice, Jeannie, Larry Hitt (well a little bit more than a cameo there), Dave Evans, Amanda Rae Westfal, and fellow authors Megan Bostic and Joe Ducie. Thank you for your participation.
Everyone’s Naked, so Pass the Eye Bleach
Louisiana Stringel and the Temple of Humiliation
It’s a Magical Feeling, or Maybe Just Gas
I Can Haz Magic, but Does I Wantz Magic?
Reports of My Death have been Greatly Exaggerated
Make Way for Captain Unintended Consequences
Evicting Peter Pan from Neverland
“Guess I’ll need to change the sheets,” I observe, and wipe some of the chocolate syrup onto the pillowcase. I’m exhausted, but in a good way. The reduced lighting in my bedroom does me a favor by disguising the horrible mess we made in the names of science and make up sex.
Beside me, Stacy Mitchell smiles and tugs at the sticky clumps of her hair. “I’d expected something more from what everyone says about it. Maybe we did it wrong?”
Considering the way I feel, I need to refute her statement. “I don’t think there’s a ‘doing it wrong’ when you’re involved, Stacy. Maybe you just can’t get any more awesome than you already are? You’re kind of like a peanut butter cup.”
“What?”
“You know, perfect. Don’t make it bigger, don’t change the type of chocolate, and for God’s sake don’t put the peanut butter on the outside!”
The avatar of Aphrodite rolls her eyes and says, “That’s sweet, Cal. I see you haven’t changed at all. I’m still amazed that I’m talking to you and you’re not actually dead!”
“It turns out the one thing; maybe the only thing that I’m really good at is being a survivor. I’m not a real good superhero and even worse as a villain. Being a survivor is the one thing I’m good at. I sucked at being a hero and the sad thing is that I was a better hero than a villain.”
She rests her chin on her palm. “I think you’re exaggerating. You weren’t so bad.”
Arching an eyebrow, I say, “Remember Mardi Gras?”
She frowns before replying, “Even so, you’re selling yourself short again, Cal. You built a powersuit by yourself that outclassed Ultraweapon. I bet I could name a couple of more things you’re good at. For starters, you’re a bestselling author.”
Technically, she’s right. The book sold way better than I ever imagined. “Wendy mentioned you’d been taking a lot of heat over it—sorry.”
Also, I decide not to say that Wendy seemed rather pleased about that fact.
Then again, the tiny tornado queen received a more favorable treatment.
In her interviews, most people dance around that whole
second level
part. Others just jump in and start talking about it and there have been at least three pornos made on the topic. Naturally, I watched them all—just to be certain they were close to the source material, of course.
On a related note, Stacy doesn’t do nearly as many interviews as she used to.
She chooses her reply with care. “I’d be more upset, but unfortunately, your portrayal of me was probably closer to truth than I liked.”
“Maybe for Mindwiped Stacy, but not for you,” I say, with the hope of building up some brownie points. “So, what now, beautiful?”
My reward is a smile. “Why don’t we shower, and then I want to hear all the details.”
Her question baffles me and I respond, “Didn’t I tell you when you first got here? It was all pretty straightforward.”
Aphrodite gives me a piercing gaze and says, “Oh, really? Forgive me if I say that you glossed over several important parts in your book. We haven’t been together in over a year and that two minute explanation just isn’t going to cut it.”
“You really want to hear all that?” I ask, slightly taken back. Yeah, I’m being a hypocrite. I went out and published the edited version of my life. In doing so, I managed to polish away most of the
suck
that seems to follow me around like a shadow.
“Actually, I do,” she says while standing; her bare flesh defiled by streaks of chocolate. “Two questions. Is the shower still in the same spot and do you want to join me?”
“Yes to both,” I reply. “Give me five to try and straighten up in here.”
“Don’t keep me waiting, Cal.”
Doing my best to commit the motion of her ass to memory, I tackle the messy sheets and try to decide whether to scrub the whipped cream off the ceiling or just let it fall. The antigravity generator gave out after two hours—pretty shoddy work on my part. In my defense, I was very distracted during the assembly.
With a shrug, I start balling up the sheets up and mutter, “I’ll just retask one of the maintenance bots into a janitor for the rest of this disaster area. What’s the point in having robots if I’m not going to use them?”
Pushing the comm button I say, “Andrew, my good friend, could you send a janitor in here in... oh I don’t know, thirty minutes. Pay attention to the ceiling, it’s pretty jacked up.”
“You seem especially happy this morning, Calvin. I see copulation with the female of your choice has improved your disposition. I will do as you request, my friend.”
“Thanks, bud,” I reply. Under Andydroid’s direction, I won’t have to spend three hours programming a robot to do forty-five minutes of work, because I would seriously do that. I’m that rare kind of lazy that will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid doing something I don’t want to.
There’s a copy of my book on the nightstand with a glob of whipped cream smearing the cover. Stacy doesn’t seem to be holding it against me... at least for now. One person I probably owe an apology to, if it ever gets out that I’m alive, is Chain Charmer. Jin can’t go anywhere without people asking, or even demanding, to try on his magic necklace. The necklaces grants people powers, like Charmer’s ability to control all those unbreakable chains like extra limbs. The other one is presumed destroyed, along with me, a few miles west of Los Angeles. In truth, it is under Larry Hitt’s costume. On a person with superpowers, it actually cuts their abilities in half. Without it, Larry was Imaginary Larry, a telekinetic titan who is so strong that his mind couldn’t handle it, and he ended up reliving his high school days over and over. With the necklace, he’s no longer insane and unbelievably powerful, just mostly sane and incredibly powerful.
Rounding my three minutes of introspection and half-assed cleanup up, I figure I’ve kept the lovely woman without a shower buddy for long enough. I’m not sure where this is headed. My track record for relationships isn’t exactly stellar, and the Olympian and I have already crashed and burned once before, but it’s comical that I’ve made it this far in life, so why stop to think of what could go wrong.
“Damn,” I say with a grunt. “Probably just jinxed myself!”
• • •
“Your coveralls still don’t fit,” Stacy comments, while wrestling with the material as we walked down the short corridor to Central Command.
“Guess we weren’t thinking about the possible mishaps when we disrobed,” I answer. “Andy will get your clothes clean in a jiffy. As for the coveralls, both Larry and Bobby are bigger than I am. I’d be tempted to let you rifle through the things Wendy keeps in her room, but that would be more amusing for me than you.”
“Cal, you’re also forgetting the fact that I would kick your ass,” a different female voice replies. “Hello, Aphrodite.”
The diminutive Italian powerhouse doesn’t look especially happy. Larry and Bobby are both decidedly interested in the unfolding events. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is some kind of wager in place.
“Morning, Wen,” I say, and plaster a smile on my face, and ponder how I can get in on any action related to this encounter. “Where’s the munchkin?”
“Playing in her playpen in my room. I’d have left Gabby with Mom if I knew you were entertaining.”
I shrug. “Came as a surprise to me as well, besides I’m always entertaining, aren’t I?”
“Maybe in your dreams, Strings,” WhirlWendy says, and rolls her eyes. Gesturing between me and the Olympian she continues, “Does this present any kind of conflict of interest to the team?”
“No boss, I don’t think so.”
“Don’t let it become a problem, then,” the mother of my child states in her thick New Yorker accent.
“Interesting team you have here, Wendy,” Stacy tries to break the ice. She seems slightly miffed that Wendy is talking “around” her like she’s just another object in the room. As Aphrodite, she’s not used to being ignored.
Which is probably why Wendy is doing it.
“That’s a word for it,” Wendy answers. “I could think of several others off the top of my head.”
I just showered, so the stench of hostility must be coming from her.
Instead of voicing my opinion, I look at Andydroid and ask, “Anything going on? Where’s the Megasuit?”
“Your armor is currently in southern California combatting wildfires. Our retention pond has been reduced to thirty percent capacity. As a result of that, I have switched to pulse cannons and am creating a fire break, at this moment in time.”
“Cool, I guess,” I acknowledge him, and look at Stacy. “Andy runs the suit when I’m not in it. Part of the reason everyone keeps thinking Mega is a robot, because it is always out in the field. They think it’s helping our public image. Me? I think it’s a waste of time. When’s the last time I cared about my image?”
“I thought you’re set on calling yourself Ultraweapon now, Cal?”
“I still might,” I reply. “But Ultraweapon turned out to be a loser. Why would I want a loser name?”
Bobby coughs something that sounds suspiciously like “ManaCALes” and Larry gets in on the act by smacking his chest with his palm and choking out “Mechani-CAL.”
“Go eff yourselves,” I say to the dipshit duo.
“You know something? That’s one thing that’s always bugged me ‘bout you Cal,” Bobby states. “You never say ‘fuck.’ You’ve been to prison. Hell! You’ve killed people, but in all the time I’ve been around you, I can’t remember ever hearing you say the ‘F’ word.”
Now everyone is looking at me expectantly, like I’m supposed to reveal some great mystery.
“I don’t know!” I protest. “Why do some people say soda and others say pop? I just don’t like the word.”
“Mommy issues,” Bobby says, while looking at Larry.
Exasperated, I look to Wendy. Her response, “Your hang ups are not my fucking problem. Can we get down to business now?”
“That would be nice. Anything stirring on VillainNet?”
“You’re on VillainNet? How? No one has been able to stay on it very long.” Stacy stammers as Wendy shoots me a dirty look. I guess I wasn’t supposed to bring that up.
I point at Bobby. “He’s a criminal and keeps telling anyone who will listen that this is
his
base.”
“It is,” Bobby states.
“Might as well take advantage of it, and what the Wireless Wizard doesn’t know won’t hurt us one bit. We run all of our Internet traffic elsewhere. Best anyone can tell, it’s just Bobby here.”
The Wizard runs a pretty tight ship and so far we’ve been able to keep him suspecting that Bobby is really a mole. After all, who’d ever suspect Hillbilly Bobby of being a spy, or a regular bather for that matter?
“Oh,” she says, unable to come up with anything for a second.
“That reminds me,” Bobby says. “Apostle wants to hire me for extra muscle. Want me to take it or turn it down?”
Wendy nods, but I have reservations. “I dunno. Apostle is pretty well-connected, but he’s notorious for taking out failures on his underlings. He’s definitely the Old Testament fire and brimstone.”
“Getting soft on me, Cal? Ain’t nothing Mr. Bible thumper can do to me that I can’t take!”
Except, oh I don’t know—maybe killing you.
“What’s the job?”
“Won’t know ‘til I show up.”
“How about the money?”
“Fifty up front another fifty on the back end.”
A hundred for Bobby?
“Sounds suspicious. No offense pal, but you don’t usually rate that much, and if you get bagged during the job we’ll have to help you escape custody again.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Stacy’s sideways glance.
Guess I shouldn’t have brought that up either. She probably doesn’t approve.
“I’m sure all of you have taken into account the risks of running an unsanctioned superteam? It’s not exactly a friendly environment out there these days.”
“I’m a dead guy with a pardon... finally,” I say, and point at each of the members of The Reinforcements. “Larry’s been declared mentally incompetent, Bobby is an unrepentant criminal and, Andy has been replaced by his creator. The only one with anything to lose is the one giving the orders, and she’s America’s darling.”
Stacy turns to Wendy and says, “Don’t you think this is hurting your father’s chances at becoming President?”
With a pained look on her face, the team leader replies, “Do you think my dad would actually make a good President? I’m his daughter and I’m convinced he wouldn’t!”
Bobby opens his mouth—no doubt ready to say, “Daddy issues.” I give him a look that says he’s on his own if he’s dumb enough to blurt that out.
He wisely reconsiders.
I voice my thoughts on the matter. “I wouldn’t be voting for him because I’m supposed to be dead and all that, but even so, he seems to be the one leading the charge to get all the supers firmly under Uncle Sam’s thumb. Thankfully, they know they can’t push too hard. I think Hera did a good job putting Senator LaGuardia in his place.”
Stacy seems somewhat mollified when I point out that her current team leader has recently endured a testy senate hearing, which culminated in her pointing out that the Olympians had a duty to the world and not just America. They could easily relocate to some place like The Hague if the US Government is no longer interested in their services.
