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Much smarter than you
Join Date: Feb 2002
Location: Pittsburgh
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VOTE FOR THE FINAL ROUND OF SUPERVILLAIN IDOL!
 It's the final round of Supervillain Idol! We're down to the final two contestants. Jon Hancock's Calculator against ManolisV's Lady Mastermind. Between the two of them, many a heinous act has been performed, and a rather large fanbase has built for each of these two sinister characters.
In this final round, these characters had to make a choice. Do they accept an offer of redemption, or will they return forever to their villainous ways?
For your benefit, the final two entries of Supervillain Idol are summarized below:
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Originally Posted by ManolisV
Manolis Vamvounis
Regan Wyngarde
Chapter 14:
“Todo Sobre Mi Padre”
(All About My Father)
“I love you, Daddy!”
“Daddy loves you too, Regan. He loves you!”
The first rays of the morning sun were amplified through the vast glass vitro covering the eastern wall of the ‘Father Room’. They were washing over the master bedroom, blinding the ‘Daddy’ in question, Jason Wyngarde, the Mastermind, barely standing half way up from his bed. He wasn’t complaining, he had a permanent satisfied grin on his bearded face – the smile of a man who had been unable to enjoy any morning sunlight for years before recently. Regan moved closed the door behind her, feeling for the doorknob.
The light from behind her cast a deep shadow over Jason, who could now make out his daughter’s features without strain. She was draped in her sinful version of a nun’s habits – her makeshift uniform as the Mother Superior of the Sisterhood of Evil Mutants, the nunnery catering to former mutant super-villainesses. A black drape covering her blonde hair and twisted around her body under her chest, leaving the rest exposed. He smiled proud at the divine sight of her, not even bothering to avert his eyes from her breasts. Under the hood’s shadow, he could make out her blindfold, covering her current handicap. He put his hand down, stretching under the cover on his bed, smiled cheekily and urged his daughter to sit on his side.
They weren’t alone in the room, although their companions had learned to make their presence discreet in these quarters -- Sister Mary Judas, the muffled, crippled girl who functioned as Regan’s seeing-eye dog – and her actual pet, ‘Dirt’, a majestic ebony dark tiger, sitting obediently at the foot of the bed. Regan was using Mary’s eyes to scan the room and felt her way on to the bed like a cat, resting her paws on her dad’s bare chest and giving him a sensual kiss. She was in love. He placed his hand on hers affectionately. He smelled blood in her hand.
“Nothing like the smell of fallen zealots in the morning, eh, daughter? Did you encounter difficulties?”
Regan’s face grew brighter like a girl delivering her straight A’s report card from school: “We have our own Lord on our side, Daddy... I took the new girls out to break them in, it was good and easy practice. We saved two new girls – Sister Bliss and Sister Moonbeam. She’s dying to meet our famous Father Jason. Martinique will bring them up before morning mass, yeah?”
“I’m sure you’ll make them feel right at home, baby. Good work!”
Regan hugged him harder feeling up his back.
“The girls were hoping you would come down after mass and read to us from your Book, Daddy... You know how I love it – we love it – when you get up and address the girls. ”
The door creaked open.
“Knock. Knock.” she said cheerfully, after walking through. Martinique was still in her battle habits, her gun holsters sitting awkwardly around her waist over the dark and red uniform. She moved on to the bed as well, and kissed their father on the cheek.
“Good morning, daddy!”
“Hi you, baby g-“ His sentence was cut short as he froze in place. Regan was trying to make out what had happened through Mary’s vantage point.
Martinique grabbed hold of her hand, and turned to look into Mary’s eyes, swifting suddenly into a serious tone, “Regan, something’s come up... Serious... We need to talk... Privately...”
“What did you do? Where?”
“Daddy.”
She pulled her from her hand – Regan felt the familiar sensation of leaving the physical plane for the mindscape – as they transitioned inside their father’s frozen mind.
***
Regan opened her eyes. Though her mindform still wore the blindfold, she could perfectly clear the mindscape around them, their minds connected to their father’s experiencing his memories – his very being- as an immense plateau, where symbolism and metaphors were the primal structural force. The two sisters were free flowing inside a blinding white vacuum. Behind them a window, looking back inside the room they left from; they could see their corporeal bodies unconscious on the bed over their sleeping father. Ahead of them, a dark dot; without a point of reference Regan couldn’t decide if it was a near speck of dust or a distant galaxy. Martinique looked ahead. With a deafening whistle, she called a silver and red serpent to their side. The sisters rode on its back and it sped instantly, slithering – tearing -- through the air, towards the dark destination.
“Isn’t it a bit early in the month for a bloody freak-out, sis?” Regan yelled, trying to get heard over the noise of the wind “Thought you had all us strange little girls synched up after two months in...”
Martinique’s eyes were transfixed on their destination, now clearly a sphere, growing closer. “The new girl, Sister Moonbeam... She sensed an attack on New York... Death...”
Regan was confused. “We’re not super-heroes, sis; we don’t get involved in super-muck-muck business. Let the boy scouts save the world this time; the sisters will stay in and knit them some knickers.”
“I know... We agreed to be ‘search and rescue’ only...”
“Sisters looking out for sisters, right? Your Grande Technicolor dream?” Regan mastered sarcasm even under the most uncomfortable circumstances.
“I know... This is different... This affects us...”
“Why are you all soap-voice all of a sudden? Chill, sis!”
“Can we cut the crap, please? Drop your pretences... Your act... Have a sister to sister talk... We’re here.”
Regan gasped. The small circle had been a planet all along. A great dark-grey ball of ash and soot, with their father’s featured engraved on its face.
Welcome to Father Earth.
Regan recognised the planet for what it stood for. Their father’s identity – his memories, his thoughts, his experiences, his entire personality. As the serpent moved to land, she jumped off and landed feet down into the dirty ground. She kneeled down, grabbed a handful of earth and breathed it deep inside her nostrils. “Smells like Daddy!”
Around them, a city grew. Neither was surprised to see Victorian-era buildings, streets, people and carriages materialise around them. Their father was always a huge fan of the era, spending countless hours researching the Victorians and engrossing himself into a past era of glamour, nobility and veiled depravity... Martinique stopped a passing coach and boarded it. The galloping of the imaginary horse’s hooves on their Father’s ground kept a steady hypnotising beat.
Martinique turned to her sister.
“Are you happy?”
“We’re still in official crap-free mode?”
“Humour me...”
“Yeah, definitely, I guess... Daddy’s back... We’ve got the Happy Sinful Family thing jiving for us -- the Sisterhood’s outgrowing even X-school numbers... We’re shooting high and living the dream, right? I know it’s your dream – saving girls, giving them chances...”
“I thought you dreamed bigger than that though...”
Regan paused without answering. As the carriage drove on, the city faded away, a barren Balkan landscape taking its place. Inside the earth, half-buried, Regan made out the giant statue heads of Magneto, Shaw, Mystique, Xavier – a graveyard of Dreamers and Leaders.
She eventually turned to her sister, “In my ultimate all-time top 7 fave sins, Gluttony ranks pretty freakin’ high. Ok, here’s a parable. I met this Golden Boy – a few weeks before Daddy came back; he wanted to get his bling-bling junk inside my trunk – so he wished me into my perfect world : the first thing in my head was Daddy – alive and well, and in love with me... When he did come back, I paused, I couldn’t believe it was real this time. But, you see... It wasn’t enough back then, with Goldie; I wasn’t satisfied, never content, so he kept giving me more, and more – Queen of the Hellfire Club, Leader of the X-Men, Phoenix – in the end it all crumbled to nothing. You wrap your gorgeous head round that? My unfulfillable- unrealistic wants short-circuited the Dream Fairy. Metaphor’s running pretty thin here.”
“Our current situation’s a compromise for you, then?”
“My old ways didn’t lead me nowhere good... Sure, I miss the old Regan. Relentless murderess. Remorseless self-pleasurer... I soaked a town red with blood on a whim. Look where that got me.”
“There’s always consequences, Regan. We’ll walk from here.”
The coach had reached a hill base. Regan smelled burnt flesh in the air – and incense? She looked high into the sky, to the top. A giant bird made of fire was perched at the apex, making its nest. The Phoenix.
“You’re not the subtlest person, are you, sis? Order of bricks, one ton - received. Ouchies.”
“Regan, I meant...”
“We’re cutting the crap, remember? You said... I got put away for playing with those punters. No powers. No award-winning smile. No ship-launching face. It totally sucks to have control taken from you, sis.”
As the coach turned into a pillar of smoke, a low, monotone roar was heard from beyond. The familiar figure of the dark tiger, Regan’s pet, walked proudly towards them, his searing eyes set on Regan. As soon as he was close to her, he purred like a kitten and rubbed his head against her legs.
“Dirt! You always find your way to your Lady, pet. Good boy!” She sank her fingers in his fur, cuddling him.
“How did he follow us into the mindscape?” Martinique looked puzzled, although she wasn’t too convincing at it. They started climbing the hill.
“He’s not real, remember? I killed the real one. It’s a funny affair. I could never have guessed this weak little man I took in as my slave would end up - - he had such a devastating effect in my life... I never really had someone to anchor me into reality after daddy passed on and my powers flared. He grounded me. You know, when I was... incapacitated, he still came and visited. He stll worshipped the mess I was. He saw everything... He loved everything. He sacrificed for me. No tricks, no mind control...” Her voice was getting harsher, bitterer. Regretful. “After that, after he swapped places with me – I even took on his face – changed my name, my appearance. A weird mix of Dirt and Victorian – a bit of Daddy thrown in... I could never keep my men and my fathers apart in my head...” She let out a forced chuckle.
Martinique was keeping silent during Regan’s narration. Her thoughts look clouded, her face hidden deep in shadow. She tried to copy Regan’s fake nonchalance: “I never understood your fascination with dad. Dirt, and Shaw, and – was the gossip true -- Doom recently?”
“I was getting desperate, after I--” the light-hearted banter collapsed with a whimper.
Martinique felt it was her time to confess. “I never wanted to invite him to my bed, I—“ but Regan continued, ignoring her sister’s cracked voice.
“—after I killed him... That goes back to what you asked, right? I killed him, cause I thought he was working for you, betraying me.”
“I must have sensed a bit of dad in him too... I was so pulled to steal him from you... Fight for him... Regan, I’m so –“
Regan once again ignored her and spoke over her “I gave him a new life; I destroyed him; and then I created a fake him – replace him. Silly Regan.”
They had reached the top, and the Phoenix’s nest, when Martinique found the opening she wanted - to prepare Regan for the next revelation.
“How – how did that work out for you?”
“ I wiped my mind clean of his death. If you pretend it never happened, if you believe it – I was still happy – not knowing. I saw him talk to me, touch me... Then you come along again, Daddy at your arm, pointy pin, bubble goes pop!”
“You still keep him around, like this?” Martinique bent to stroke the tiger’s fur, reflecting the light of the Phoenix. It shook and moved to follow his mistress who was climbing ahead.
“It’s a living tribute, keeping his memory alive. The best pet a Lady could ever ask for. I couldn’t bear seeing his empty eyes anymore, knowing he’s not real... Hear his voice... This illusion – it’s my feelings for him – my memories.”
Martinique swallowed hard. “Would it be different – if I hadn’t told you the truth about him? If you still didn’t remember he died?”
“I – I can’t answer that... I wish I did remember how he died. I know it’s true, but the memory – I erased it forever... It was the ultimate final connection between us – birth and death- and I threw it away out of – cowardice...” She stepped inside the Phoenix’s nest, leading inside a cavern - Martinique and Dirt following her inside. She kept talking “Why are you pressing so hard about this? Look at Mary! Stupid one-armed, mute, crazy Mary. She was so hell-bent on destroying me, it was comical. I kept her around as y little hate doll. Imagine my surprise when she crawled to you and stabbed me in the back – made me kill Dirt... I erased her memory too, you said. She still doesn’t remember betraying me to you, she doesn’t know why I keep punishing her, mutilating her, torturing... Is she better off?”
Martinique lit a torch, illuminating the room. “This is the room. His heart.”
She pointed it to the center of the room. Two statues stood there, life-like, holding hands. Wyngarde’s legacy – his daughters.
“We’re at his heart? He loves us more?” Regan was smiling, honestly smiling, again, after the emotional trek to here.
Martinique was still grimmer than before, the light of the torch making her features look nightmarish. “Think, Regan! Think! This is why I brought you here. So you can see for yourself what I discovered...”
“Daddy loves us! What is there to think—“
Martinique grabbed her from the shoulders and pulled her blindfold off. She looked her eye-to-eye, speaking matter-of-factly : “Jason Wyngarde contracted the Legacy Virus... He died 5 years ago... In his comatose state, he reached out to one woman only... He invited her to his deathbed... His dying words were an apology to her... She was the only woman he ever loved... He repented for his crimes against her... Tell me Regan! Did you receive an invitation to that little soiree? Was it misplaced by the naughty mailman?”
Regan was frozen, as Martinique continued... “Dad didn’t care, Regan... He was a terrorist... and a villain... and a great man... But he only had eyes for that flaming hussy, the Phoenix... And before he died he only cared to reach out to her... He had forgotten we even existed! Do you know the funny bit? The woman he apologised to wasn’t even the same woman he had wronged – but they didn’t have the heart to tell him...”
Regan still braced herself with all the force of her will. She spoke... calmly, but trembling inside. “If this isn’t Daddy, then who is it? Why does he feel so right...”
“Skids – Sister Skids – she’s a SHIELD agent... She infiltrated us to keep an eye on ‘Daddy’... There was an invasion...”
“What does that have to—“
“Aliens... Skrulls...”
Realisation dawned on Regan: “Shape-shifting aliens?”
“They have been hidden away in key positions... for the past months... trying to control the different factions...”
“Daddy is one of them? But his memories, his voice... His mind!”
“Regan, you need to understand... These are sleeper agents... They lie and wait for their wake-up call... He thinks he’s real... We’ve dag this deep into his psyche... and it’s still an impeccable, amazing illusion...”
“Why did you show me all this? Why not just tell me?”
Martinique reached into the ground underneath their effigies and dug out a small green seed. The symbol of his counter-programming, hidden deep inside his unconscious.
“I – I needed you to see for yourself, the depth of this – this copy’s authenticity... If we destroyed this seed... He could live on and be Dad forever... No one would know...”
“Isn’t it another illusion?”
“He’s not - - he’s flesh and bones – a perfect copy... A Dad that loves us more than anything...”
“Why do you want this?”
“He’s a symbol to those girls, Regan... We worked so hard to save them... If we let him... They would go back to their old lives, right? Their faith shattered...”
“Wouldn’t that be the ‘right’ way to go? Turn him in before he turns on us... The heroic sacrifice... Show them we’re for real... Here to save the world! I thought that’s what you wanted...”
“I only care for my girls... Damn their governments and their heroes... If we change him... It won’t matter where he came from... Who he was before... He will be –for all intents and purposes- the real Jason Wyngarde... His vision will help keep us together... and as a bonus --”
“--We get to keep our Daddy, right? Our dream daddy... While the world burns around us!”
“He loves us...”
“He’s not real... This is Dirt, all over again... More compromises...”
“You will do it?”
Regan stood silent, motionless, staring into the effigies. He loves them...
She fidgeted, turning back towards Martinique.
She nodded ”yes” , biting her lip...
“If you wanted... If it’s easier... I could help you forget today... Erase this choice, with Dad’s impurity... you wouldn’t know...”
“Regan? What will it be?”
Regan thought. The answer wasn’t easy before, but now it was perfectly clear in her mind...
***
Regan and Martinique were back in the room, in reality.
She stood up from the bed, avoiding her sister’s glare. She didn’t speak. She reached out to Mary’s mind, borrowing her eyes as her blindness continued to be a handicap. She took her leash, and led her outside the room, while Martinique tended to their sleeping father...
In the small cloakroom next to the Father room, she stood opposite Mary, grabbing a sword from the wall. She was perfectly still and emotionless, as she passed on the sword to Mary, watching herself do it, like glancing into a mirror pool.
Through Mary’s eyes, she saw her holding the sword in her hand, and swing it straight into the calm emotionless Regan. A precise cut, straight through the middle, a vertical dichotomy. She kept watching at herself, two hands appearing in the slit, pulling the two halves of Regan apart. From inside a young average girl, stepped out, over the broken husk of the Lady Mastermind. Her eyes red from tears, her face covered in dirt and snot, sobbing and gagging... She wheezed and fell on the ground, pulling at her hair.
Catching her breath, she looked up at Mary, at Regan’s mind through her eyes. She picked up the two broken pieces of her illusion self. She stood up, pulling the pieces over her shoulders, the tear in the middle mending itself as she did. She pushed the two halves of Regan’s face together, healing seamlessly together. Her face was again perfect, regal... Emotionless...
Regan picked up the sword from Mary’s hand; With one blind fell swoop she decapitated her – all the while watching herself through soon-to-be-dead eyes... She dropped the sword next to the bloodied corpse, and felt her way blindly back into the room.
Her father called to her from his bed. She followed the sound of his voice. She tripped on the side of the bed, and fell towards him. His hands were warm on her arms. His voice so comforting, so loving. She felt his face with her fingertips... Exactly as she remembered...
He whispered...
“Daddy loves you, baby”
She smiled...
Holding his face, she knelt towards his lips...
For a second, she hesitated...
She tilted her head up and gave him a small formal kiss on the forehead. |
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Originally Posted by Jon Hancock
Participant’s name: Jon Hancock
Judge’s name: The wonderful users of Comixfan.com
Character’s name: The Calculator
Another day, another dollar. What I thought was a dream job of working undercover has turned into me becoming a glorified bus boy for the most insane woman you’ll ever meet.
A typical run down of my day; I wake up, I shower, I check my Blackberry for any news from her. I go to my office through a back entrance, avoiding all notice from fellow employees. Grabbing a coffee from the personalised machine tucked in the corner of the room I wait the call. And the call doesn’t take long. The next 12 hours of my life are spent between finding names and numbers of people who mean nothing to anyone. Finding out specs of buildings that I know are empty and have been for sometime. Of course I soon found out that the Wall, sorry, Mrs Waller, doesn’t employ me for my opinion. Either she doesn’t trust me enough yet to listen or she enjoys tormenting me with jobs she knows I’ll see the pointlessness in. So I guess I’m not that different from you. I hate my job because it’s meant to be much more. I hate my boss because she enjoys having power over me. I hate my life because I can’t see a way out and I hate myself because I chose, hell, I orchestrated myself into this position.
Don’t get me wrong. Checkmate definitely has perks. In the time I’ve been here I’ve witnessed the steady depletion of the Society. Seen names go behind bars that I know come from my information. Most importantly, I’ve not had my brains forcibly removed through my forehead thanks to one of my previous associates.
It’s just, there’s got to be more to it than this. I never thought I’d want to lead again, in fact I’m pretty sure I still don’t, but surely a guy like me has paid enough dues to warrant a break. Get some change. Is a bit of personal autocracy too much to ask for? Can’t I decide my own destiny?
Ah to hell with it. One day my prince will come, whether it be in the form of a bullet for Waller or one for me. Until then I’m going to have to keep grinding away, earning the checks, not paying taxes (another perk) but building for a future that will never come. Anyway, it’s nice breaking the fourth wall like this but I’ve got a big day tomorrow and need some rest. What? You think the guy that can find out anything and has had an awful lot of free time on his hands recently wouldn’t notice the essence of his true existence? It’s not a big metaphysical secret. For crying out loud, I’ve got a comic book with Jay Garrick in it. It’s hardly a huge leap of faith to find out the truth behind your own existence and accept it for what it is. The next freak show like revelation in my utterly non-normal life. So while you smirk, pick your jaw off the floor, or however you react to reveals like this, I’m going to catch some rest. See you tomorrow True Believer. Yeah, I used to read him too.
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The Lord chooses his final apostle
3 Noah lay down to sleep, unaware that the hand of the Lord was over him. 2 The Lord called to Noah, raising him from his slumber. Unaware of the call, Noah checked his dwelling and finding nothing, he returned to sleep. 3 Again the Lord called to Noah and rising at once from his bed, for sleep had not befallen him, Noah felt great fear. 4 Noah ran through his home, searching for the voice in vain. Deeply disturbed by the calling, for Noah was not a holy man and could not recognise the voice of God, he armed himself before once more returning to his restless slumber. 5 Time passed and yet again the Lord called to his servant Noah, arousing him from his sleep. Noah, filled with dread at what was transpiring, stood tall and proud, as the arrogant do. Shouting to the heavens, Noah cried 6“Who is this that torments me so? Show yourself adversary so that I may dispatch you and take the rest I have earned this day.” Then the Lord spoke to Noah saying, 7 “Child, why do you cry in anger? I, the Lord your God, am speaking to you as one of my flock. Soon there will come a time like unto your namesake. I have chosen you as one who has potential for greatness. 8 Soon the time will come when humanity must answer for its wayward nature. I have chosen you as a prophet to speak the truth. 9 You must declare the truth of the Lord. Herald the Kingdom of God. Speak to the flock with the wisdom that I will give you.” 10 Noah flung himself prostrate onto the ground, overcome in awe at the Lord’s presence. “Lord. How can you choose me. I have not led a life worthy of service to you. I have stolen, lusted and murdered. I have paid no heed to your commands and have denied your love to others. Why choose me Lord?” 11 The Lord spoke again unto Noah “Question not the wisdom of the Lord but know you this. Often times I have called men into my service directly and they have followed without question due to their inner conviction. You I have chosen for you represent the world of man better than any. You who have all the answers but know not the truth. 12 So know this. You will wake from this night with a choice to make. You may choose to believe this vision and begin to work for the proliferation of truth. Or you choose to ignore my calling of you. Know this though that those who turn away from me will never again feel the light of my love shine on them. For a man who rejects the truth having seen it with his own eyes is beyond any form of redemption.” 13 And Noah returned to his slumber and slept the night deep, rising the next morning freshened, with only scant recollection of the previous night’s events for the Lord himself had plucked the details from Noah’s mind, leaving only the dilemma resting on his heart.
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I wake to the buzz of my cell phone. Before I roll over I know that there’s only one person who wakes me up while I’m still sleeping. Sure enough, Mrs Waller’s secure line. Resigned to another day of drudgery, though feeling oddly hopeful today may be better, I flip open my phone and await the torrent that is bound to follow.
“Yes Mrs Waller?”
“Kuttler! Why the hell aren’t you up yet? You know we’ve only got two days to prep for the Inner Circle meeting. I need to have access to those accounts I gave you. I need those names. Get working Noah. This is your chance to shine. Maybe after this we’ll talk about reworking your working arrangement, but ONLY if you do NOT let me down. You know I’m not someone to cross.”
And so my day continues. I work feverishly, losing myself in the joyous act of detecting and uncovering information so carefully secreted away. The first few are easy enough and you can tell the people don’t regard their secrets as that important. They’re no fun at all really. I guess that the Creeper doesn’t think many people can get hurt if his identity was uncovered. So the morning I devote entirely to the Geo-Forces, Dr Midnites and other also-rans who have nothing more than basic security systems. All in preparation for the main event. My lunch consists of whatever the Wall deems nutritious for me. Today it’s a salad comprised mostly of beets. Seriously. Can you imagine anything less interesting? You see why I’ve gone slightly potty and started talking to you.
So anyway, I return to my station and get to the real work. I go through the recent Leaguers who I know will have improved security. Black Lightning’s account proves particularly fun. Gotta love that government encryption. And finally it’s time for the big three. Hacking into the personal files of The Bat, The S and The Giant Golden Cans. I’m not quite sure how Waller even managed to get the gateways for them but I definitely had fun finding the way in. Finally I had three names. Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince. I always had my suspicions but even I was surprised. It takes a lot to catch me out these days. So there I was with the world’s biggest secret. The things I could do with this information. Waller wouldn’t realise the true potential. This is more than a way of keeping tabs and forming contingency plans. This could be the start of me, working for the big three. Oracle had half the information already. Imagine how impressed they’d be with the man who’d reformed and detected their identities through nothing more than hard work and ingenuity. I save the files, encrypt them my way, and shut down for the night. The cursory good night phone call from the Wall leaves me feeling in desperate need of a shower and a pair of ear plugs. Today has been different. Excited and exhilarated, once again filled with passion for finding out and discovering the unknown. Recommissioned to use the skills I was born with. Tomorrow should be a day of change thinks old Noah’s grey matter. And with that, I suggest we both get some sleep. Speak to you tomorrow ever faithful reader. Unless you’ve decided to try whatever garbage the opposition are publishing these days.
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I wake up with a feeling of familiar annoyance. Something is present in my room. Something that bypassed the security and yet brought with it a stench reminiscent of scrambled eggs served up in used gym socks. I gag and cough uncontrollably but as quickly as my senses are assaulted, the smell vanishes. Of course I’m not foolish enough to think I’m alone. I climb out of my bed and grab the handgun in my bed side drawer. Checkmate issue, it comes with infra red sights so there’s no need to fumble for the light switch. I scan the room and see nothing. Pacing slowly through to the kitchen and then the lounge, each room as empty as the last. And yet still I have this overwhelming sense of doom lurking over me. I turn to go back to my room and nearly have an incident which would require a whole new pair of pyjamas to be found. There, nose to nose with me, is an elegant gentleman with a shock of white hair enjoying what looks like a fine shiraz from a crystal goblet. He’s wearing a custom tailored suit that makes him look like he’d belong anywhere he’d want to be. I know it’s custom made because he’s wearing it over the giant pair of wings sprouting from his back. I’ve fought Hawkman and seen fake wings before but these belong to him. Open mouthed I started to raise my gun.
“Please Mr Kuttler, don’t bother. There’s really nothing you can do to harm me.”
“Wh-who the hell are you? What are you doing here?”
I fumble with the wristband I wear, searching for the fob that will sound the panic alarm back at Checkmate HQ.
“Ah, I wouldn’t bother. Things tend not to work when I’m around. My name is Lucifer Morningstar and I have an offer for you Mr Kuttler. Knowing how my Father operates, you probably don’t remember last night that well do you? Well I’ll let you in on a little secret. Somehow, the fates have aligned, and you my friend have caused all sorts of alarm bells to ring in the heavens, and below.”
“You’re the Devil? Shouldn’t you be talking to Faust or something? The supernatural is a little out of my remit.”
“I’m impressed at how quickly you’re accepting this Noah. I’m an honest type and so I’ll get to the point. You have a big opportunity in front of you. You know what I mean and you know the potential for what you’ve uncovered. Now my Father wants you to use this information to better yourself and to inspire the rest of mankind to live according to his way. That path? That path is never easy. I’ve got a different bargain. Do what comes naturally to you Noah. Exploit, blackmail, backstab. Impress me with how creative you can be so that when the time comes you’ll be happily sat at my top table.”
“Sorry. You’ve lost me. I’m being fought over by God and Satan? And you’re related? Seriously? Where’s the camera? Or is this another of Psycho’s tricks? Look, I’ve a big day tomorrow. Just get out before... well I guess I can’t really threaten you but life is complicated enough without the personification of evil hanging around my lounge.”
“You’re right you know Noah. You have got a very big day tomorrow. Make the right choice. I’ll be waiting.”
And then I’m alone. A guy can get tired of astral visitations interrupting his beauty sleep. Especially when for 36 years previous the spirit world has made it quite clear it wants nothing to do with me and has made no attempt to prove its existence. So I do what any clear headed man would do. I put it off till tomorrow because there’s important sleeping to be done.
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For once, I wake before the inevitable phone call. I send a quick text to my boss letting her know I’m starting work early to get the big business of the day ready for her presentation. That’ll buy me sometime. I can still remember last night and the conversation with Lucifer (seriously, how weird can that statement be?) has jogged memories of the night before that. Everything seemed so... Old Testament.
So I get to work. I pull up the files. There before me is information that could change lives. Change the nation. Imagine if people knew there was a Bat. Or knew that their Superman was actually one of the hated liberal media! That the Wonder Woman they thought was so aloof had actually been posing as a secret service agent. Imagine what people would pay for that sort of knowledge. All their loved ones suddenly at risk. Even the Man of Steel can’t stop every bullet that’s fired. Every knife that’s drawn. I guess Lucifer was right. There’s an awful lot of profit to get out of this. What would you do reader? Can you honestly say, sitting in front of your computer, that if you had the opportunity to change the world, to gain wealth and influence untold of but completely secret, all at the expense of three people’s well being. The ability to become a world shaper. To gain the attention of governments, heroes and villains alike. To be a god on Earth, all through the threat that you could pose. Well it’s tempting isn’t it? All I’d have to do is one little favour and I’d be sorted. And if I choose not to, what then? I strive and struggle to be accepted by a world that fears our community more than loves them. I’d be plagued by a pissed off devil. And I’d have the appreciation of one of the most famously non-interventionist deities ever imagined... or existing... or whatever deities, both real and otherwise, tend to do.
So what to do? I could frame Superman for owning child pornography on his computer. One quick upload to the Daily Planet server, one call to the feds, and suddenly the most respected newspaper in the country is brought crashing to the ground. Or I point out to the Wayne Foundation how their benevolent founder is actually a psychopathic thug that ought to be locked up with the rest of the loonies he takes such pleasure in grievously assaulting. It’s all so... tempting. And I suppose that’s what a deal with the devil ought to be. But I’m not thinking this through. I was the Calculator for crying out loud. Analytical approaches are my bread and butter. Think of the tales Noah. You know what happened to all those idiots who dealt with Neron. There’s always a catch.
But benevolence is so... dull. Do I really want to join the back slapping brigade and spend the rest of my existence preaching a message whose truth I may have found new personal conviction in, but which largely is going to be met with mass indifference as you, the walking bowling pins with haircuts that make up the general populace, nod sagely before carrying on your day of scratching that itch and promising yourself tomorrow will see you achieve something worthwhile.
I’m being too harsh I know but I’ve got to get in the mindset of Lucifer if I’m going to make a deal with him. It’d be naive to think I’m currently villainous enough to comprehend how soul destroyingly evil that... creature, can be. Honestly? I haven’t a clue what choice to make. I’m still mulling it over when the phone rings. Without looking I answer,
“Yes Mrs Waller?”
“Sorry, is this Agent Noah Kuttler.”
That voice. The authority and self confidence seem to have been imbibed into it through the continual gratitude and respect of those its own has helped. I recognise him instantly. But I’m not stupid.
“No sorry. You must have a wrong number.”
“Noah, don’t be alarmed. This is Superman.”
“Listen pal, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m totally legit. Completely under your radar now. Get the Bat to check my record if you want.”
Sweat’s starting to glisten off my brow as I listen in sheer panic. He knows. He knows and he’s going to put me in that frosty dungeon he calls home. Where the **** is Waller when you need her?
“Please Noah. Stay calm. We know the information you’ve got hold of. This wasn’t a test. We wouldn’t put that information into someone’s hands lightly. You managed to beat all our security and find out details that we have guarded for years. I want to congratulate you and offer you a position in the League. We’re not going to pander to blackmail with you. This isn’t damage control. This is me being impressed and wanting to take a chance on someone who’s shown a willingness to change. You won’t have realised but Mrs Waller has been keeping us updated on your progress. Though we didn’t know about this latest scheme and we’ll have to talk to Checkmate about just why they wanted that information. But that’s beside the point. I know how you’ll have been tempted to use this but the fact you have managed to go more than 12 hours without selling it makes me believe you want to try a different approach. There’s a seat waiting at the League’s table with a Calculator engraved on it.”
There’s only so many times in life I can be stubborn, belligerent and down right self destructive. And you try saying no to Superman. When he’s being charming and not in scary battle mode I mean. And think about working with the Bat. All that glorious tech. And I’ll be able to keep in with the Almighty. Which is a definite perk. I think spreading an ethic of love while saving the universe should be a pretty fun job description.
So this is the end for me. Of my chapter, and of my story. No cloak and dagger. No silly suits. No secret societies. Just me. Noah Kuttler. Maybe I’ll get a new codename, maybe not. All I do know is that this could be the beginning of something very special for me. And something very interesting for you dear reader. Go grab yourself a coffee on me. We’ve earned it.
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Voting will remain open until 12:00 PM EST, on Saturday July 5th. Good luck in this, the final round of Supervillain Idol!
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Jul 3, 2008, 11:56 am
LIVES!
