Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (36 page)

He suddenly felt sad.  Four years
now, and he still missed that know-it-all every second of every day.

He tore open another letter,
revealing a carefully cut out picture of a bottle of beer, and the small hand
written notion: 
“To good times, Bro.  Have one for me.”
  

He raised his drink in toast, and
couldn’t help to smile, despite his introspective mood.  He scanned the room
again. 

For the first time in his life, the
metaphorical motorized plastic fish were biting, and he prayed that they always
would.  Oh god, how he hoped they always would.

A
traveler hired a horse to convey him to a distant place.  The day being
intensely hot, the traveler soon stopped to rest, and sought shelter from the
heat in the shadow of the horse.  As this afforded only room for one, and as
the traveler and the owner of the horse both claimed it, a violent dispute
arose between them as to which of them had the right to the shadow.  The quarrel
proceeded from words to fists, and while the men fought, the horse galloped
off.  Moral of the story?  In quarreling about the shadow we often lose the
substance.

Harlot sat down and waited for the
meeting to be called to order.  This was the first meeting since their crime spree,
and she was anxious to hear the official totals on how everyone else did. 
Unfortunately, this was also the first meeting since it really became public
knowledge within the Consortium that she and Wyatt were dating.  As usual, with
any sort of
private
news, it would doubtlessly need to be discussed,
argued about, and voted on by the members at large.  That was just their way.  This
was probably
not
going to be a fun meeting.

Wyatt sighed again and pinched the
bridge of his nose in frustration, obviously trying not to snap at the group. 
“For the LAST time, Steven;
no
, I am
not
using my ‘mind
controlling’ powers on her.  Okay?  I’m telekinetic,
not
psychic.  I
don’t
read or control minds, least of all hers.”

The other man didn’t look
convinced.  “Listen, I know you’re probably wondering why you can’t control
MY
mind too, freak.  But your mind-twisting powers ain’t going to work on me.  I
don’t know WHAT the fuck you’re doing to her, but I’m
on
to your little
game.”

Wyatt put his face in his hands,
and launched into another patient explanation of their relationship.  Watching
him try to reason with utter insanity was just adorable.  He seemed to
genuinely believe that if he just used the right words, Cynic would understand
what he was trying to tell him.  It was so cute.

She turned around as the door
opened, and Holly walked in carrying several large boxes.  “I have
gingerbread
men
!  Who wants one!?!”  There was a mad dash for the boxes as she placed
them on the table, but she slapped their hands away.  “Everyone
wait!
 
Return to your seats and I’ll bring you each ONE.”  There were sounds of
unhappiness, but the group returned to their regular places.  Holly started
round the table, carefully placing a napkin and a gingerbread man in front of
each person.  “You have to wait until the break to eat them, though.”

More unhappy sounds.

Wyatt scoffed.  “ANOTHER brilliant
idea.  Now we got a room of super-villains pretending to plan world domination,
while they’re
really
just thinking about when they can eat their cookies. 
Yeah, that’s sure to end well.  Distraction.  Depression.  Sugar rush. 
Super-powers.”  He looked down at the tiny man placed in front of him.  “Can I
have one of the ones with more icing?”

The cookie was replaced with a more
satisfactory one.

Cynic pointed at him.  “
Now
you’re twisting Holly’s mind too!  I saw that, and I’m sure I’m not the only
one!”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.

Harlot glanced down at a report
from Holly which reported that the device they had stolen from the laboratory, was
actually far more powerful than they had anticipated and was custom tooled for
use in some kind of weather machine before it had ever fallen into their
hands.  She reported that it was ordered by someone who required it for a
device similar to theirs.

ANOTHER weather machine?  What the
hell?

Harlot stared at the file for a
moment as people around the table read the same report.  “Hey…that isn’t us, is
it?”  She looked at Cynic.  “Steven, does the Intelligence Department know
anything about this?”

He shook his head, and watched to
make sure that no one’s cookie was bigger than his.  “Nope.  That one’s by me.”

She looked down the table at
Troubadour.  “How about you, Gabe; does HR know what’s going on?”

Troubadour downed a shot of whiskey
and picked up his banjo, carefully tuning it.  He cleared his throat. 
“The
road to hell is…”

Wyatt gave a grunt of annoyance at
the delay, and reached over to simply grab the paperwork from in front of the
other man, cutting off his song mid-lyric.  “We don’t have time for the musical
styling of
Don
fucking
Draper
today, okay?”  He quickly reviewed
the report from HR.  “Human Resources has no record of anyone associated with
us building any such weapon.”  He tossed the folder back at Gabe.  “Now see? 
Wasn’t that easier than pleasuring us with another one of your masterpieces,
Opera-Man?”

Troubadour gave him the finger and
sat back down.  He gathered up the paperwork and moved it further away from
Wyatt in an obvious effort to guard it from further interference.

Gurrier sighed and added finishing
touches to his wooden sculpture of a caged, angry grizzly bear.  “Music went to
hell when Eddie Cantor died anyway.  Jazz age stuff had heart.  Nowadays, it’s
just noise.”

Undercurrent laughed.  “Did you
really just use the word ‘
nowadays
,’ Hazz?  You’re so
totally
old.”

Harlot read the report again.  What
the hell was going on then?  Maybe it was one of Leader Hosen’s boys in the
European branch?  They always reported any action of this size to the home
office though.  No…something was definitely up.

Holly glared at Wyatt.  “That was uncool,
man.  Gabe doesn’t just pull out the banjo for
EVERY
meeting you know, only
for something
really
special.  You could tell he was going to totally
ROCK this place today.”  She shook her head slowly in condemnation, and then
made a decision.  “That’s it.  I’m calling my dad, and have him put you on his
‘Naughty’ list.  Hope you like lumps of coal, asshole.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  “I’m
Jewish.  Tell him I said ‘hi,’ though.”

Harlot tried to refocus attention
on the matter at hand.  “I think the fact that for once, we’re being blamed for
a doomsday device that we DIDN’T build, and it could go off at any moment, is
more important than whether or not Gabe gets to sing us the news from HR today.”

Holly scoffed.  “Like hell it is! 
I don’t give a shit who’s building that thing; I don’t know them.  But I DO
know that I happen to ENJOY hearing Gabe’s music, and now thanks to your little
boyfriend there, I can’t.”  Her scowl deepened.  “And I’m taking my cookie
BACK
.”

Her hand reached out and snatched
the gingerbread man from its place in front of Wyatt.  His mouth opened in
protest as he looked down at his now empty napkin.  “Hey!  That was mine!”

Holly rolled her eyes.  “I’m a
super-villain,
stealing is kind of my job.  Don’t like it?  Go back to being a hero and
try to stop me.”

Holly placed the stolen cookie next
to the cookie on Troubadour’s napkin.  Wyatt glared at his pilfered treat and
then at the smirking man who now possessed it.

Poacher flew from his chair.  “Fuck
that!  No way!  NO
FUCKING WAY
!  Why does he gets two and I don’t! 
That’s not fair!”

Holly’s green eyes narrowed at him. 
“
YOU
don’t get two,
Sydney
, because you were rude to Harl and me
this morning.”

Wyatt turned to Harlot, his face deadly
serious.  “What’d that bastard say?”

She laughed.  “Nothing.  Calm
down.”

Poacher slammed both of his fists
down on the table in a fit of rage, still glaring at Holly.  “That’s a fucking
LIE! 
A GODDAMN FUCKING LIE, WOMAN!!!
  I’m never rude to you!!  I ALWAYS
treat you BOTH with respect, because you have nice tits!”  

Wyatt looked thoughtful for a
moment…and then shrugged, as if conceding that point.  He winked at her.  “He’s
got you there, Angel.  Guilty.  As.  Charged.”  He gestured to Poacher.  “I
still think I’m going to go knock his teeth down his throat, though.”

She giggled and shook her head.  “Oh,
calm down.”

Poacher’s tirade at Holly continued. 
“So shut your goddamn mouth for once, you lying little BITCH!  I’m a VERY pleasant
person who has never insulted anyone in my life!  I should skin you alive and
mount your fucking head on my wall, you goddamned liar!”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  “Is anyone
else now suddenly thinking about Poacher skinning her and then dancing around
wearing her like that creepy guy from
Silence of the Lambs
in his girl
suit?”

Her face scrunched up in distaste. 
“Well
, NOW
I am.  Thanks for THAT mental image.  Yuck.”

Wyatt gave her a lopsided grin.  “
It
will put the candy cane in the box or it gets no hot chocolate
.”

She swatted at his arm laughing.

Doctor Heterodox stood.  “I was
present in astral form at that
foul encounter
, and I can verify the
allegations with which the young woman has regaled us.  Your uncouth words were
spewed from the hellish depths of the darkest dimension of…”

Cynic’s hand went up and he took
his sandaled feet off the table.  “What the fuck were you doing watching the
girls while you were invisible, you shroud wearing freak show?”  His face took
on a disgusted expression.  “You don’t like…rub your crystal balls when the
REST of us are in the shower, do you, Doc?  ‘Cause that’s just really gross.  I
mean, I can
totally
understand wanting to see them naked, I think we’ve
ALL
thought about that more than once over the years.  I’d wager the thought’s even
crossed Librarian’s mind a few times...but I want some kind of assurance here that
every time I take a shit, you’re not invisible and crouching behind me on the
tank jacking off or something.”  He paused.  “And I agree with Poacher, it’s a
fucking
insult
that Troubadour gets two cookies and I don’t.  This isn’t
the first time I’ve seen something like that happen either, and I’m beginning
to see a pattern.  That whole fucking side of the conference table thinks it’s
somehow BETTER than the rest of us over here.  Those gingerbread hoarding
motherfuckers are all about keeping this side down!  The table is an OVAL you
assholes, you shouldn’t even be SEEING sides in the first place!”

Poacher nodded.  “Damn straight! 
They’re…Wait…You lost me.  What does the table have to do with Holly being a
shrill, aggravating…”

Gabe went for him right over the
table, and the two men fell to the floor struggling.

Henchmen ran from the room squealing
in fear.

The Librarian looked on
disinterestedly as the two men wrestled next to her chair, and she moved her
briefcase out of the way so that it wouldn’t harmed.  “If either of you are
injured in this altercation, it will not be covered by the Consortium’s health
plan, and you will pay all related costs out of pocket.”

Poacher tried to speak despite the
fact that Gabe’s hands were clasping at his throat.  “He’s…ACK…He’s in charge
of HR…He’ll just push his papers through and get reimbursed, and I won’t…that’s
not…fair, either…GAH!”

Cynic jumped to his feet.  “Told
you!  I told you!  See!?!  DO YOU FUCKING
SEE
THIS!?!  Once again, that
side of the table is trying to silence someone on
THIS
side!  Poacher
made ONE reasonable grievance, and *BAM!* Troubadour’s over the table to our
side to silence him, and keep the truth from coming out!  First they take our
cookies, now they’re after our freedom!  I’m telling you, those bastards are
after us all!  They’ve been doing it for WEEKS now!”  He put his hand down on
Enmity’s shoulder; his palm covering up the top corner of her large backpiece tattoo
stretching from her hips to just below the nape of her neck; a black snake
monster emerging triumphantly from an evil looking grove of thorny vine-covered
apple trees, grasping an apple in one of its clawed hands.  Several tiny
corpses lay beneath the trees, apparently having unwarily tasted the monster’s sinister
crop without permission, and had paid the price.  “Back me up here, Em.  You
could be the
next
one they go after.”

She looked down at his hand.  “Don’t
ever touch me.”

He pulled back.  “So…you’re one of
them.”

Tyrant rearranged his crown and
shot his cuffs.  “Remember when super-villainy was about lasers of doom and
man-eating poinsettias?  Now what do we have?  Idiot high-schoolers having a
pissing
contest
over baked goods.  Distasteful.”  The cage at his waist jingled and
he glared down at his captive.  “No. 
Prisoners
do not get cookies. 
PRISONERS get bread and water, and they’ll
LIKE IT! 
You should be
grateful
that I allow you to have even that!  You should
thank me
for my
benevolence and generosity.  Given your continued insolence, any NORMAL captor
would simply let you
starve.
”  He refocused on the group.  “If I’m the
only one that’s going to take our joint criminal enterprise seriously, I’m just
going to leave the rest of you to your fates.”

Cynic waived a dismissive hand.  “Was
anyone talking to you anyway, Kass?  Huh?  You want to take your little magic ladybug
and run off to a new clubhouse, be our fucking guest.  Just means that THIS
side of the table gets stronger and…”

Tyrant leaned across the table, his
tone suddenly deadly serious.  He pointed a finger at Cynic.  “When I make my
final move for domination of this reality,
YOU
will be the first one I
come for.  You.  Die.  
First
.  And I ASSURE you, unlike the rest of
these fools, I know EXACTLY what your powers are, and
WHO
you are, ‘
Steven
.’ 
I know how you got
ahead
in this business, if you catch my meaning, and
you present me
no
challenge. 
No challenge at all.”