Supervillainess (Part One) (5 page)

His mind fell silent.

“Okay,” she said, taking the hint. “Does
your son know you aren’t as crippled as you pretend to be?”

You can see that?
The wheelchair bound man lifted his head several
inches to peer up at her.

“Yeah.”

What exactly is your power?

“It’s complicated.”

I’m retired.

“I’m not.”

Ah well, then, keep your secret.

Another silence. The wounds in her stomach
began to bleed through her clothing.

I’m sick of being cooped
up,
the man complained.
Can you open the window? I rarely get fresh air.

“I nailed them closed,” she said. “Just in
case.”

No need to explain. I hunted your kind down
once.

“So that’s why you’re here,” she said with a
small smile. “One last adventure, tracking the enemy, before the
cancer takes you.”

You can see that, too.

“And the fact no one else knows.”

Clever girl.

She looked out the window. It was rare for
her to spend the night inside. “Fresh air sounds like a good idea.
I’m sure this building has an accessible roof. Want to go out,
enemy of mine?”

I do.

“You trust me not to kill you?”

I’d welcome death at this point.

“Me, too.” She said and held her stomach.
Reader crossed to the door and opened it, listening. The others
were in the living room, on the other side of the apartment.

She heard the words
funeral
and
planning
and closed the
door.

Kimber had been lying about why he brought
his father here. Perhaps it was her weakness, but she found herself
genuinely interested in taking the crumpled old man to the rooftop,
not just so she could feel the night breeze, but because she
suspected it might be the last time he ever did.

Or maybe she just wanted to give Kimber a
heart attack when he saw his father was gone. Either way, going to
the roof sounded like a good idea.

“You’ll have to keep quiet,” she warned
Kimber’s father.

My lips are sealed.

She chuckled, enjoying the man’s subtle
sense of humor. Reader returned to the bed and sat heavily. Warm
rivulets of blood trickled down her sides. She ignored it and
grabbed the knife she’d hidden beneath her pillow. Ripping the
white sheet, she fashioned a cape out of the fabric and drew a deep
breath, preparing herself for the effort required to stand.

“You can’t be seen like this,” she told the
man and wrapped the cape around his shoulders.

I haven’t worn one in too
long,
he replied.

Reader opened the door and returned to the
wheelchair. She turned him with difficulty but soon discovered the
chair was a welcome support for her battered body.

Pushing him to the foyer, she pursed her
lips when she saw the front door was unlocked again, as if the
doctor either forgot or was ignorant of how dangerous the city
could be. She opened the door. The poorly laid out apartment was
such that the door wasn’t visible from the living room, and they
escaped without alerting anyone.

More blood trickled down her torso and legs,
creating a spattered trail of red behind her.

Five minutes later, she pushed the
wheelchair out of the elevator and onto the uneven expanse of the
roof. Several tenants appeared to be using one part of it for
storage, and someone else had tried to grow a garden in another
area. Reader chose a vacant spot and stopped walking. The evening
mist clung to her eyelashes and skin.

The second she tried to step away from the
support of the chair, she dropped to her knees with a grunt of
pain.

“I think I’m dying, too,” she said
mirthlessly. The blood was coming faster, as if she had ripped
every last one of the stitches the good doctor had sewn into
her.

This is as good a place as
any. We can stare at the sky and die together, two enemies locked
in final combat with life,
the
wheelchair-bound man replied.

“Why not.”

And smoke. I haven’t had a cigarette in
years.

“You got cigarettes? I don’t.”

My wife’s jacket pocket.

Reader scooted on her knees to the jacket
resting over the back of the chair. She pulled out a change purse
and lighter. Unzipping the pouch, she breathed in the familiar
scent and grinned.

They’re medicinal. Supposed to be for her
arthritis pain.

“Superhero to the last day,” she said in
approval as she pulled the marijuana cigarettes from the purse.

She set down the cigarettes and pulled
herself to her feet. Unsteadily, she wrapped one arm around his
body and hauled him up. They toppled to the ground, and she groaned
as he landed on top of her.

“You can’t fool me. I know you’re not
crippled,” she told him. “Move.”

He did so and managed to roll off her and
onto his back.

Lightheaded, Reader clawed her way to her
knees once more and crawled to the marijuana and lighter.

Ah. The stars. It’s been too long since I
could see them.

She collapsed down beside the dying
superhero and lit a cigarette. Only a few stars were visible
through the clouds and mist, and only for seconds at a time.

“Here.” She passed the cigarette to him.

With a trembling arm, he accepted it and
placed it clumsily to his lips.

Reader lit one for herself next. “What was
your code name, before you retired from the great game?” she asked
and rested back, gaze on the same stars above.

Einstein.

“That’s terrible.” The drug was beginning to
take effect. Reader’s body started to relax, and the pain
retreated.

It was accurate. I moved at the speed of
light.

“Horrible,” she pronounced.

What’s yours?

“Reader.”

That’s no better. Sounds
like you’re a super-librarian.
He was
amused.

“I control minds!” she snapped. “I’m not a
damn librarian.”

Nothing wrong with books. If I had enough
time left, I’d like to read again.

“If you keep pretending to be crippled,
you’ll have to settle for audiobooks.” She released a deep breath.
“Anyway, all the good mind control names were taken. The
Supervillain Council would only approve this one.”

I suppose it could be worse.

They fell into comfortable quiet, each
drawing off a cigarette. The effects were more pronounced on her
weak body than usual, and Reader couldn’t help feeling grateful the
pain was fading. Conventional medicines, while they would relieve
her pain, also masked her superpower, rendering her vulnerable.

After her last clash with her brother, she
couldn’t afford to be exposed, and if she were meant to die this
night on the rooftop, she would prefer to pass away painlessly.

How did you end up with my son?

“Relax, Einstein,” she murmured. “We aren’t
together. He found me dying in an alley and tried to rescue
me.”

He’s always tried to take care of others at
the expense of himself.

“I suppose you’ll try to tell me he’s a good
guy.”

There are few, but they exist.

“I don’t believe it.”

You’re alive, aren’t you?

“Speaking of people posing as someone
they’re not,” she retorted, “why are you pretending to be a
veggie?”

It seemed kinder on those around me.

“How so?”

My accident almost destroyed my wife and did
destroy my son. But they both accepted this, and I feared causing
them more pain by giving them hope right before I died of cancer.
They’ll grieve less this way.

“Kimber turned out fine,” she said. “And
your wife needs to be told her perfume is too strong.”

Kimber will struggle the rest of his life.
He’ll never fully recover from what he went through.

“Hmm.” Reader shelved this thought, unable
to follow it when her mind was beginning to float towards the sky
with the smoke of her cigarette. “You should tell them. Surprise
them and then laugh at their expressions when they realize you can
talk and walk. But wait until your last day alive, so it’s more of
a shock.”

Spoken like a true supervillain.

She closed her eyes. “I’m not official
yet.”

Do you want to be?

“I did, before we decided to die tonight,”
she replied wryly.

It’s a lot of responsibility, and rarely
does your kind live past your prime.

“Is being a human potato really any
better?”

I get to see my son from time to time.
That’s worth any kind of pain.

“How noble. Once a superhero, always a
superhero.”

One day, you may have something more to live
for than your legacy. Friends. Lovers. People who light a fire
beneath you and push you to become more than what you are.

“Let’s hope not. Sounds awful.” But as she
spoke the words, her thoughts flickered to her brother, who had
been her only friend until his betrayal.

One time, I faced the
Magnifier in New York,
Einstein, the former
superhero, said.

“No way!” she exclaimed. “He’s one of my
idols.”

Einstein began talking about the epic
battle. Reader listened, grateful for the entertainment after a
long, boring day of healing.

When they had finished their smokes, she lit
them each another. Einstein continued to tell stories, interrupted
only when he paused for a deep drag from his cigarettes.

For Reader, the night took on a surreal
quality. The stars danced then disappeared, fog morphed into
fantastical creatures, and the retired superhero beside her regaled
her with stories of his glorious exploits fighting others of her
ilk. Her pain slid away, and darkness began to edge her vision and
mind.

When her companion fell silent, she breathed
a deep sigh.

Thank you for this. It’s
not like your kind to want to help mine
,
Einstein said.

“We can pretend we had a battle to the death
and we both lost,” she replied.

It would have been no match, kid. How can
your power stand up to mine? You just read minds.

“You arrogant carrot!” she snapped. “I can
do more than read your thoughts. I can control them, too.”

Not impressed.

She snorted. “Whatever. You’re lucky we’re
both on this roof dying.”

“No. You’re … lucky … bitch.” He said the
words aloud in a gravelly voice that was rough from lack of
use.

“Shut up, potato,” she returned, grinning.
“Are the stars getting darker, or is it just me?”

They are.

“Guess my brother will get his way after
all,” she mused. “If I have to die, I’d rather die with one of our
kind than with normal humans.”

Agreed.

Twisting her head to face the vegetative
superhero, she tried to sit up. Her body didn’t respond, and
lifting her head left her dizzy. “You have to do it, Einstein. You
have to talk to your family one last time so you can die with their
shocked expressions on their faces. Be just a little villainous
before you go. Just once.”

He was amused but didn’t respond.

At the edge of her mind, Reader sensed the
approach of more than one person without being able to identify
them through the thick soup of her thoughts. At least, not until
she smelled the stench of some kind of flower wash over her. Her
nose wrinkled.

“What the fuck is going on?” Kimber
breathed.

Someone else gasped.

“Dying, son. Leave us be,” came the gravelly
voice from beside her.

Reader laughed hard enough in the shocked
silence that ensued for more blood to squeeze out of her
abdomen.

“Did he … did you … James …” Einstein’s wife
said and hurried forward. Another form was with her, and they knelt
beside the old man. “Kimmy! Help us get him into his chair!”

The darkness was closing in around her.
Reader’s eyes closed, and she listened to the sound of them helping
the old superhero into his chair.

“Not your time, Einstein,” she said.

“If I see you … tomorrow … I will kill you,”
Einstein wheezed. “Bitch.”

“James!” his wife exclaimed.

Reader laughed again. “Game on, you
vegetative bastard.”

Another gasp was followed by a round of
urgent whispering. She heard them push his chair away and smiled,
content to die alone in the dark.

“I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you.”
Kimber said, kneeling beside her. He pulled her mask off.

“Noooo!” she groaned.

What was he still doing here? Reader didn’t
have the energy to reclaim her mask or push the doctor’s hands away
when he began checking her wounds. She opened her eyes. As if
anticipating the condition she was in, he had brought a first aid
kit.

“What the hell did you do to my father?” he
asked, gazing down at her as he pulled bandages free. Kimber’s blue
gaze was stormy. He was classically handsome with a square jaw
shaded by beard growth, broad forehead, and a head shaved bald.
“Why the fuck did you bring him up here? He’s frail, and so are
you.”

“Relax,” she replied.

Kimber’s eyebrows went up, and anger crossed
his features.

“We’re good. He wanted some air, and I
wanted to die,” she replied. “Have you ever considered wearing a
mask? You would look good in one. Your jaw is really nice and you
have no hair to get in the way.”

“None of that bullshit,” Kimber replied
firmly. “Why and how is it my father decided to talk to you, a
complete stranger, after not speaking to anyone in years?”

“I can read minds.”

“Jesus.” Kimber worked to stop the bleeding
and then sat back. He lifted her off the roof.

“Leave me.” She squirmed, pain shooting
through her at the movement.

“I’m not going to let you die up here!”