Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a Supervillain (51 page)

“Ray?” I asked as he picked up, just to be sure it was Ray who picked up.

“Penny, are you okay?” Ray didn’t sound sleepy. He sounded haunted, not even a trace of teasing in his solemn voice.

“I’m fine.” I was, this time.

He wasn’t. “Penny, I want you to know, we don’t have to do this.” His voice even sounded a touch ragged. Had he been crying, or was I imagining that?

I could calm him down much better in person, either way. I certainly knew how to get his mind off his troubles, but not over the phone. “Come to the lair, and we’ll discuss it there. Okay?”

He noticed the emphasis I’d put on the last word. It worked. “Okay.”

“See you in a few,” I promised and hung up. Then I dragged my jumpsuit out from under my bed, and put it on.

It was the middle of the day outside, bright and sunny, and I’d be totally obvious walking out of my parents’ house in a supervillain costume. I dragged on a sweater and my looser pants. That would do.

Then I rushed out the door, hopped on my bicycle, and sped as fast as I could down to school. I only teleported across one intersection. It turned red right in front of me, and nobody seemed to be around. I felt stupid afterwards. Don’t hesitate, but don’t rush. Super powers were enough fun, and I didn’t need to take dumb risks with them.

I took the elevator down because that was the easiest way to stow my bike. The lair was empty except for my mad scientist clutter. I’d beaten Claire and Ray here, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was convenient. I had something I wanted to do first.

Okay, power. What was that wonderful idea you had back in the witch’s shop? Was it still there? It was. Instructions, measurements, diagrams of forces I’d never understand painted themselves in my head. I could see the whole thing. Mostly, I’d need a needle and thread.

Did I have a needle and thread? I kneeled down and rooted through the remaining pile of bits from Dad’s discard bin. There might be a needle in there. As for thread, I twisted The Machine until he let go of my wrist, threw him onto a pile of burlap cloth, and ordered, “Turn the top layer into string for me.”

He got to chewing, I sorted through chips and bits of wiring and electrodes and what all. A sewing needle! Heavily magnetized. The power in my head could tell, and the blueprint shifted subtly. The Machine spat out thick, crude twine. The image in my head shifted again, but not by much.

I grabbed the bag of handkerchiefs and started sewing. I didn’t have a clue how to sew, so I let my power guide my fingers, drifting into a dream of construction. It wasn’t all sewing. I had to flex gold wire at some point, didn’t I? Mad scientists sure used a lot of gold.

As I cinched tight the last knot, the elevator hummed. It rose and seconds later came back down with Ray.

He looked at the floppy thing in my arms. “What is that for?”

“Mech’s laboratory,” I answered, and set it on the floor.

He’d looked serious before. Now Ray’s face lined in pain. He raised his hands, walking toward me until he laid his hands on my shoulders. As he did, his voice cracking worse than usual, he told me, “I don’t want you to do this for me, Penny. Please. You need to tell your parents. They’ll take care of you. They would much rather protect you from Spider than get mad because you’ve been playing around at being a supervillain. I would much rather you let me take care of myself than let Spider use me against you. I’ve managed so far, and now I have superpowers. I don’t have to be afraid of my parents, and you don’t have to be afraid for me.”

His hands tightened as he went on, but he was still being gentle. He stared right into my eyes as he talked. I’d never met his parents, and he’d always avoided the topic of his home life like the plague. I was starting to think things were way worse than I’d ever even suspected. He could break an adult like a twig in his hands now, and he still looked afraid.

Heh. Not for long. I tilted my head, giving him his normal teasing smile back. “Ray, I didn’t call you here to be the angel on my shoulder.” Then I reached down, took hold of the hem of my sweater, and pulled it off over my head.

His hands leapt away from my shoulders like he’d been stung. Good friend that he was, serious and respectful, he turned his head away to not look. Then he peeked anyway, and stared, his breathing husky with hunger. After all, I was wearing my jumpsuit underneath. Not just my work suit, my supervillain costume.

He actually growled as I pushed down my pants. Ha! His buttons were so easy to push. This must be what it felt like to be Claire.

And speak of the devil, I heard her pipe up behind me, “Halfway there!”

She grinned at me from a doorway to the back rooms as if I weren’t fully dressed from the neck down. She must have come in one of the back entrances. I scooped up the fluffy, three-foot tall rag doll from the floor and threw it at her as hard as I could.

She caught it in both arms with ease, since “as hard as I could” wasn’t exactly dangerous. It had hung limp for me. In her arms it stirred. Ha! Again, HA! It worked just like I thought it did!

Claire’s face very slowly lit up with hope and the same glee. “What is this?”

I grinned like my cheeks would tear off. “A zombie rag doll. The first of many, all yours. All I can tell you for sure is that your power commands them and they use the infinite handkerchief spell to breed.”

Claire stared down at her wiggling toy. Its mouth gnashed, showing teeth behind the stitches. Was she glowing, actually glowing with happiness? No, that was her power playing tricks on me. Still, the wonder in her voice was no illusion. “So we’re going after Mech’s lab? When?”

I grabbed my helmet and pulled it down over my head. Then I picked up my sugar tank and buckled it on. “Now. Forget Spider. She wants us to be scared. We’re going to do this for fun. He’s not there to fight, so this is my super power versus Mech’s. I’m twice the mad scientist he is, and I’ve got friends!”

Ray blinked. He still sounded hoarse, but in a whispery way. “I’m dreaming.”

I grinned wickedly at him. Wickedly? Oh, yeah, wickedly. “You shouldn’t have made this so much fun.”

Claire broke in impatiently, “What are we waiting for? I’ve got an army of zombie rag dolls to try out!”

The address Spider gave us left us standing on a sidewalk downtown, staring across the street at the front entrance of a skyscraper. Well, a big, tall building. There had to be some official definition of skyscraper, but I wasn’t going to get my phone out and look it up right now.

So, Mech’s hideout was in a skyscraper in the middle of downtown. Except it wasn’t just a skyscraper.

“A bank,” Claire repeated for the third time, still staring.

Ray tried to restrain a snicker, but it burst out in a hoarse snort of laughter. “Do you think Mech is a mild mannered bank teller in his day job?”

I’d met Mech in person. The idea had me snorting too. “With his muscles? He’d stick out like an elephant in a hamster cage!”

“And he’d blend in typing away in a cubicle?” Ray countered. He was right. Only the bottom floor or two could be a bank like I knew it. The rest of the building had to be offices. Offices that belonged to the bank? Who cared?

Ray waved a gloved hand at the entrance and reminded me and Claire, “Three supervillains are standing across the street from a bank. I’m sure they’ve already hit the alarm.”

I nodded. “Good point. We’d better move now.” And I did, walking right into the street and across it. Cars screeched to a halt and honked. Honking at supervillains. That was either supreme bravery, or supreme impatience.

As I set foot on the opposite curve I added, “I would like to make a big entrance.”

Ray got the message. He took an extra step in front of me and Claire, clapped his hands together, and pulled them apart. This would be our first chance to see his blasting gloves in action. He pulled until he had a head-sized ball of pink and purple light between his hands, surrounded by an arcing corona. Then he shoved it, not through the rotating glass doors in front of us, but at their base.

The crash and jangling were all that I could have hoped for, and we strolled into the bank through a wreckage of shattered tile, shards of glass, and hanging metal frames.

I didn’t have a nice, threatening looking bolt action weapon right now, but I had the next best thing. I held out Vera, tapped her with my thumb to wake her up, and tossed her up into the air as she uncurled.

Speech time. “You know the drill, folks. Lie down on the floor. Guards, your guns don’t work, so no need to worry about whether you can shoot a little girl. The good news is, everybody, we’re not here for the money.” I’d heard banks had exploding fake money and all kinds of crazy stuff like that anyway. Never underestimate low tech.

Or mad science tech. Claire stepped forward, set her rag doll on its padded feet, and added, “Which isn’t to say this is just a social visit.”

A lot of customers had already been on the floor. The lobby of the bank looked as classic as can be, with a big, open two story room, decorative plants and tables, customers lying splayed out like starfish, and one security guard still dumb enough to be pointing a pistol at us. I ignored him. Vera had only been awake for a few seconds, but this close the bullets would already be duds.

Claire’s doll toddled forward, bent down to grab the edge of the giant rectangular red carpet decorating the middle of the room, and started to chew on it. Aww! Warm pride filled me. My design worked. With a little extra fabric, it only took seconds before the middle of the rag doll’s body bulged. A seam on the back split with a loud ripping noise, and another doll with a lot of red patches and string flopped out. It climbed to its feet and lurched over to devour a curtain. The first rag doll’s back sewed itself back up neatly, but a new bulge had already started to form in its chest.

The sixth doll staggered up to the security guard, arms outstretched. He pulled the trigger on his pistol three times, getting only useless clicks. Shrinking back against the wall, he whimpered as it grabbed a mouthful of his pants leg and tore the fabric off. That was too much. The guard kicked the doll in the chest, knocking the rag doll away and onto its back on the floor.

Oh, boy. Not smart. The doll sat up sharply and hissed, mouth open wide and showing lots of sharp scissor blade teeth. It scrambled toward the poor guard, while one by one the other dolls looked up at him and hissed. Even as it got mad, one of the dolls had a new zombie rag doll struggling out through the badly ripped base of its arm.

It was nice to know the dolls weren’t helpless, but I didn’t want them killing anybody either! Claire must have had the same thought. She rushed forward and grabbed the doll that had been kicked in both arms. It went limp. The others resumed devouring fabric. Bending forward a little, Claire looked at the sweating guard sidelong. “You get one free chance, so don’t do that again. I suggest that instead of lying on the floor, everyone might be safer standing on a table.”

Before she’d stopped talking, another zombie rag doll burst out of its parent. Yet another was born while the customers stampeded up onto every piece of wooden furniture in the room. These things multiplied like rabbits.

HA! Awesome.

I looked at Ray and Claire. “This is fun, but…”

“Business,” Ray finished for me. Claire nodded. We all headed for a door into a side hallway. Claire carried her fussy zombie rag doll, and two more toddled after us. Tesla’s Mythical Frankendog, they were so adorable!

“We need to get to the seventh floor,” Claire told us. She’d studied Spider’s briefing best, after all.

Ray frowned at that. “The elevators will be locked already. I guarantee it.”

I shrugged. Not great news, but it made sense. “Then we’ll take the stairs.”

“Follow the fire exit arrows,” Ray suggested.

Sure enough, they led us to a metal door whose little window looked into a dull cement stairwell, and with a sign by the handle reading “Emergency Use Only.” We qualified as an emergency, alright. Ray gave the door a hard kick, and it flew right off its hinges and hit the opposite wall.

We trooped inside, and I stood in the middle, staring up the zigzagging stairway as it occurred to me just how much climbing the seventh floor would be. Teleporting would be even worse.

I had an answer for that. “Minion! Carry me!”

Ray bowed and recited, “Of course, my Mistress.” He stepped up and lifted me into his arms like a feather. I hung, curled up, cradled against his chest as he leaped up the steps five at a time. Not to be outdone, Claire’s grappling line shot up past us, and as we passed the fourth floor she zipped past vertically.

Ray wasn’t even breaking a sweat carrying my weight up all these stairs. His arms and chest were thin, but the muscles underneath his shirt felt hard as iron when they flexed. “It is going to take years to get used to the idea of you being physically fit. Years!” I muttered to him. He let out a single, husky laugh.

Below us, I heard doors open and people screaming in shock. That would be our rag dolls. Go, zombie army! Keep whatever hero was on the way thoroughly distracted!

As we walked out of the stairwell into the seventh floor, Ray set me down on my feet again. Claire immediately chirped, “Oh, this is nice!”