War Stories of a Supervillain, Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – First Contact

I still remember what I was doing when the world changed.

It was a normal Wednesday night, like any other. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just like so many weekday nights that had come before.

I was alone in the lair for once. The Green Knights were off in Seattle doing their hero thing, keeping up appearances. Crystal was off in some server with her boyfriend, Magic Mike, doing things that would only be possible in virtual reality. That left me to my own devices, and, since I didn’t have any jobs coming up, I decided to go out on the town and have a little fun.

When you’re a cape, whether you’re a hero or villain, just ‘going out on the town’ can be problematic. Getting recognized outside of costume can lead to fans swamping you (yes, even villains have groupies). If you’re less lucky, you get rivals showing up to try and take you down while you’re unprepared. A villain might be eating in a restaurant, and suddenly cops burst in with guns drawn. Lots of problems.

So, when you’re a cape looking for a night out, you only have two options. One: you go to a ‘cape club’, a private club that is only for people ‘in the biz’. Oh, they’re not all clubs, of course, but the point stands. You go to one of the network of businesses set up to cater to capes, which have discretion as a byword, so that only capes can get in. Or, Two: you get a disguise and go out in public, and take your chances.

This is one area where I am, frankly, a bit more fortunate than others. Since my earliest days as a villain, I always wore a mask when conducting my ‘business’. The mask and cowl in my costume aren’t just for the coolness factor or looking badass, you know. Don’t get me wrong, I was fully aware of how it would look when I picked it, but the key idea was that, unlike so many heroes and villains, my face isn’t public record. So, if I want to go out on the town, a disguise is as simple as dressing in civilian clothes.

By this point, I had been a successful villain for years, and had, frankly, more money than I knew what to do with. So, when I decided to dress up for a night on the town, I dressed to impress. A lair existing in a sealed off and forgotten subway station is great, not just for being conveniently located in the city, but also because when I go topside, the nearest active subway station is nearby. Now, some people would take a cab to whatever club they were heading to, but those people would be idiots. If you’re not pressed for time, only a fool tries to drive through Manhattan if they have any other options. I had plenty of options, but I was wanting to be ‘normal’ for a night, so I took the E train down to the 23rd Street station in Chelsea.

A quick walk of three short and two long blocks from the station, and I was at Marquee. I’d heard good things about it, but I couldn’t go out and party too much in New York, due to security concerns. Most of the time, if I was heading out for a night out without my costume, I would go someplace far from home, just in case of emergencies. If I was forced to use my powers out of costume, then anyone who connected me with my villainous persona would come to the conclusion that I live in, say, Los Angeles instead of New York. Basically, it was the old gag from one of those superhero comics that came out during World War II, about how this guy and his superhero persona were never seen in the same place, but no one put it together that they were the same person. My lair’s best defense was that no one knew where to look for it, and those who knew enough to guess were smart enough to know the consequences if they did.

That night, Marquee was hopping, but I had called a promoter and promised him my buddies Franklin and Grant would keep him company if he got me in, so in I got. To quote an old movie that guys on the prowl know and love, “This is what I call a target-rich environment.” I didn’t have a Goose to be my wing, but I promised myself that I’d make do.

Looking around, I spotted my first target of the night, a scorching hot blonde with legs for days and a butt to die for. Oh, and that skin tight little black dress was doing wonders for her, let me tell you! I sipped my drink for a moment while I watched, checking to see if she was with someone. I’m a supervillain who uses magic artifacts to seduce any woman I please, but I draw the line at stealing another guy’s girl in front of him, unless it is part of a job, or he’s being a dick. Blondie was alone, so I went over to make my play.

I paused at her table, and motioned to one of the empty chairs. “Mind if I have a seat?”

She studied me for a moment, like she was unsure of what she was seeing, before saying, “Well, is that it? Not going to use some cheesy line?”

That got a grin from me. I leaned on the chair back as I watched her expression. “Heh. Cheesy lines are great for roleplaying when you’re with someone for a while, or flirting with someone you’re having fun with, but aren’t looking to do more than have a quickie in the back room with. And I don’t know you, and you don’t look like the ‘meet me in the bathroom stall’ kind of gal, so I figured you might appreciate some actual conversation. And if I’m here, the eight other sharks circling you will back off, at least until you decide you’re tired of my company.”

At that, she chuckled. “All right, have a seat, and try not to bore me.”

I slid into the seat, and gave her a smile. This one was going to be fun. I could have just kissed her and used the incubus ring to make her mine, but I was doing a ‘normal’ night, and that included charming a lady the ‘normal’ way. I took a sip of my drink, and then introduced myself with one of my ‘civilian’ aliases. “Name’s Jack, by the way. Jack O’Neill. And who might you be?”

I was intrigued when the blonde raised an eyebrow at me. Her expression looked like one of mixed intrigue and suspicion. Did she suspect I used a fake name? “You can call me Helen. Helen Magnus.” I had to smile at that. Yeah, she suspected a fake name, and gave one in turn. Still, she was smiling, so I was starting to get interested in playing the spy vs. spy game, and seeing who came out on top. “So, what do you do for a living, Jack?”

A simple question, but one I always had to be a bit sketchy on the answer on. After all, just admitting you were a supervillain tended to ruin that ‘normal person’ vibe. “Oh, I’m what you could call a freelance consultant. I’m a troubled asset redistribution coordinator, as well as a troubleshooter. Basically, I go in to places where there are improperly secured assets, or problems causing trouble for the client, and sort things out.”

The corporate-style doublespeak was obvious, but it was clear she decided not to push on the subject for the moment. Probably waiting for a proper angle of attack. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

I leaned back in my chair, smiling at her. It had been so long since I’d talked with anyone who didn’t already know who I was that it was fun to just be normal for a change. “Oh, it is, but I love the challenge. Always something new out there, even when you think it is the same old thing. Though I’ve had a few people try to rip my head off after a particularly nasty job. Bunch of people were unhappy with the re-org that came down after I finished work. What about you? What do you do for a living, Helen?”

She leaned back in her chair, and took a sip of her drink. “Ah. Well, I work as a consultant, too. Mainly with the city and state, on a contract basis. Boring stuff, really, most of the time it is basically advertising, but there’s times when it gets exciting. And I’ve got a weekly column in the Post on Tuesdays. Little gossip and advice piece where people write in, and I answer questions.”

That was interesting. She had her own pre-rehearsed bit of doublespeak. That would explain why she didn’t press me on mine. Well, turnabout is fair play, so I decided to follow the second thread she gave me. “Ah, what section are you in?”

“They usually have me in Living.”

“Cool. What’s the Q&A about?”

“Ah, well, it is basically all about supers. You know, living with powers, and all that. It is aimed mainly at teenagers, since that’s when most people start getting their powers. As if teens don’t have enough to deal with, just with all the changes normal people go through.”

I gave a wry smile at that, and said, “Ah, so this is the face behind the ‘Dear Super Sue’ column! Well, I’ll have you know that I do read your column, online, at least. You give good advice to the kids. Too bad you’re so young. Could have used someone like you when I was growing up.”

‘Helen’ leaned forward, smiling. “Oh, and are you such the old man now? I’m not that young. I’m 28, you know!”

“Heh. But I’m 34. So, I’ve still got a few years on you. But at least you have the good fortune to be a child of the 80s, like me, even if you didn’t grow up then.”

“Ooh, cocky, aren’t you? So, what does your ancient wisdom say you should do now?”

“It says I should offer the lady a drink, if she promises not to throw it in my face.”

“Hmm. Well, it would be a waste of a perfectly good martini…”

From there, the evening progressed quite well, as we transitioned from Marquee to the rooftop lounge at Cambria (I also took the liberty of securing a room for the night, just in case). We were still on a first name (in alias) basis, and having fun as two people who did not so normal things, both pretending to be normal for an evening. As we talked more, I started to get the feeling I recognized ‘Helen’ from somewhere other than a faceless advice column.

But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

Ok, so maybe not. But being on the rooftop, we did get a nice view of the first energy weapons raining down on Earth. Energy weapons from space? Were we actually getting invaded by fragging aliens during the middle of my night out?

Both ‘Helen’ and I looked at each other when our cell phones went off at the same moment. If either of us had doubts about the other one being ‘in the business’, they were shattered at that moment. She picked up first. “This is Electra. What the hell is going on?”

My mind raced. Electra? That was one of the Titans, the local hero team. So, that meant the ‘contract work’ she talked about was being one of the local superheroines? That was pretty awesome. Still, my phone wasn’t going to answer itself, and if I ignored her, I knew that Crystal would come through the phone just to chew me out in person.

“I’m here. What’s the situation?” Electra seemed mildly put out that I didn’t divulge any secrets, but I merely winked at her as we listened to our conversations telling us about the same thing. Aliens had shown up out of nowhere, probably dropping some kind of cloaking device, and had blasted all the space stations to dust in moments, and were now working on blasting what looked like government centers and military bases all over the world. There were twenty ships, but from orbit even one ship could cover a LOT of territory when you were using energy weapons.

“Right. Tell the girls they have my blessing to do what they have to on their end. If things get too hot, they’re to go to ground. They have my permission to bring team members to the lair to use the Valkyrie Module if one of them is hurt too bad for local medical to save. But remind them of the cooldown. You and Mike do what you can in Chicago, but stay out of the line of fire. You know neither of you are front-liners.”

As I talked to Crystal, I heard Electra speaking to her contact behind me. “All right. I’ve got to get back, and get in costume. I was having a great time until the end of the world. Yes, he’s an interesting guy. I’ll tell you about him if we live through this. Rally at Headquarters? Be there in full kit in twenty.”

“Stay safe.” “See you soon.”

As we hung up, I turned to look at her, and said, “Well, Electra, seems like the situation has changed. Whatever is happening is bigger than normal ‘business’, so if you would be so kind as to tell your team not to try and shoot when the horrible villain Iceblade shows up to help, I’d be much obliged.” I had to choke down a laugh as I saw her face go from shock (at the name) to dread (at my reputation) to unease (at my intentions). I decided to cut that off at the pass. “No, I’m not going to cause trouble. And I’m not going to use my nefarious charms on you, not until all this is over, at least. Now, go to your team, and I’ll meet you at your headquarters in thirty minutes, unless they start landing troops before then. If they do, you’ll find me wherever the fighting is thickest.” And with that, I hit the autodial on my phone, and teleported to the lair.

Turns out, aliens had no idea what happens when you go and piss off a supervillain by interrupting his date with the end of the world.