By
Morpheus
What is a beautiful, talented, and oh so fabulous super villain to do when her favorite painting is stolen from her private lending library…aka the art museum? And to make it worse, she is now put in the awkward position of having to save a hostage. For once in her life, the Imp is not amused. This is a non-TG story that takes place in the Whateley Universe.
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New York, Thursday April 5th, 2007
It was after hours and the art gallery was closed to the public, so I felt a certain amusement as I walked around freely inside. I was even more amused by the fact that the owner had actually invited me, though he didn’t understand the irony of that.
I looked over the painting that hung on the wall in front of me, admiring the smooth lines and beauty. It had an elegance that appealed to me, as well as subtle sense of whimsy. Then I looked over to the sign that had just been hung on the wall, the one that read, ‘Local Artist: Candice Kade.’ All of the paintings in this section were from the same artist. Me.
“Candice,” a voice called for me.
“David,” I greeted the gallery director.
David Herman was a dark skinned mulatto man in his early fifties, with graying hair and a dignified manner. He was also pretty good looking, and I might have taken him to bed if it wasn’t for the fact that he was married.
“The last couple paintings are almost in place,” David told me pleasantly, gesturing to where one of his employees was hanging one of my paintings, a cityscape piece showing a sunrise through Manhattan. If you looked carefully, you could several silhouettes hidden in the work, tickling your imagination as you tried to make them out.
“Then we’re almost done setting up,” I responded with a smile of my own. I looked over my paintings, feeling rather proud to see them displayed like this.
“Your last show did quite well,” David commented. “I’m certain this one will do even better.”
“I hope so,” I joked. “If none of my pieces sell, I might have to rob a jewelry store in order to pay my rent.”
David chuckled at that and shook his head. “There’s no chance of that happening. I already have several collectors asking about your latest pieces.”
We talked for a few more minutes, and once the last of my paintings had been hung in place, I excused myself to go home. It was getting rather late, and after a long day, I was looking forward to kicking off my high heels and relaxing.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at the opening,” David told me right as I left.
I started walking down the street, knowing that it would have been quicker and more convenient to just take a taxi home. However, if I’d been interested in speed and convenience, I would have simply driven to the gallery instead.
The truth was, I wasn’t particularly fond of cars and always felt just a tiny bit claustrophobic whenever I was inside one, especially when I wasn’t the one driving. Being inside a car often gave me a vague sense of being trapped, and I knew that if something happened, my options were more limited. That was why I usually preferred to travel by less confining methods when the weather and situation permitted.
I had nearly reached the subway entrance when two men appeared, one of them demanding, “Give me your purse, bitch.” The one who spoke had a gun pointed at me while his accomplice, who appeared unarmed, stood back and acted as if he was giving moral support.
For a moment, I just glared at the muggers in disgust and annoyance. Muggers were among the lowest rung of criminals, the kind of people who were too stupid and lazy to do anything else. They actually offended my sensibilities.
“Oh no,” I cried out, trying to look terrified as I backed up towards a darkened alley. Like the idiots they were, they grinned at the realization that they were about to get me trapped in a dark alley without any witnesses.
“Get back there bitch,” the one with the gun ordered me.
Once we were back in the alley, he turned to his friend and grinned. And since he wasn’t looking at me, he failed to notice that I was grinning as well. I dropped my mask to reveal my real appearance, so when he turned back to me a moment later, his eyes went wide in shock and horror.
I lunged at my mugger, knocking the gun from his hand and snarling, “I’m gonna eat your souls…”
The mugger screamed like a little girl and I could immediately smell the scent of piss. Both of them turned to run away, but I wasn’t done quite yet. Since I still had one of them close at hand, I shoved him face first into the concrete and gave him the mother of all wedgies. Only after he squealed in a high pitch did I back off, letting him scramble to his feet and race after his friend while I remained where I was, giggling like a mad woman.
With the muggers gone, I took a moment to fix my appearance, then I continued on my way home, still grinning as I did so. One subway ride and half-an-hour later, I arrived at the building where I had a condo on seventeenth floor.
As soon as I was safe in my condo with the door locked behind me, I let out a sigh of relief. Now that I was back home, I could let down my hair and relax. This was one of the few places where I was free to really be myself.
The first thing I did was remove my jacket, followed a moment later by the magic medallion I wore around my neck. I didn’t feel any different, but anyone watching would have seen a moderately attractive brunette who appeared to be about thirty, suddenly transform into a monster. Without the illusion created by the medallion, my real features were once again visible.
I had a long black devil’s tail with a matching pair of black horns that stuck out from my forehead by about two inches. My fingernails were black and a little clawlike, my ears were pointed like an elf, and my eyes were yellow with a black slit down the center. And of course, I had patches of small black scales on my forehead and cheeks, as well as my shoulders and less visible places on my body.
My appearance was somewhat demonic, which probably explained why my parents had summoned a priest after I’d first manifested. They were actually disappointed to find out that instead of being possessed, I was just a mutant. After all, an exorcism could have fixed a possession while nothing could be done for my GSD, except to try hiding it…and me.
Candice Christine Kade was the name I’d been born with, though I hadn’t really used it in over thirty years, not since I’d run away from home at the age of fifteen. And though I’d recently begun using it to sign my paintings, it was no longer the name I truly thought of as my own. That name was the Imp. As Candice Kade, I was merely known as a rising artist, but as the Imp, I was a notorious thief, trickster, and super villain.
It wasn’t easy being a costumed criminal in New York, not when you had to deal with heroes like the Amazing Three, the Empire City Guard, or even those dimwitted Cadet Crusaders. Fortunately, I was good at avoiding direct confrontations with heroes, something that was helped by the fact that most of my victims never even realized what I’d done until after I was gone.
Of course, the truth was that I’d been semi-retired for the last year, or at least on hiatus. This wasn’t something that I’d done intentionally, merely the way things had worked out.
A few years ago, I’d done a job for a magic user, stealing a painting from the office of his rival. In exchange, he’d given me this magic medallion which hid my odd features and let me walk around in public without fear of scaring everyone. Thanks to that medallion, I’d actually been able to start my second career.
I’ve always had a passion for art, something that had been instilled in me from a young age since my parents had owned a high end art gallery and auction house. I spent decades as an art thief and forger, creating duplicate replacements for many of the works I stole, but only during the last couple years did I discover that there was actually an interest in my original paintings. It seemed ironic that after spending three decades as a thief and forger, I was now considered a legitimate artist.
I smiled as I thought about the art gallery that was actually hosting a show with my paintings. The funny thing was, I’d removed a few pieces from that same gallery a few years ago, which made it hard to keep a straight face when David had been bragging about how good their security was. In fact, I’d been tempted to break in again just to see the look on his face.
With that, I stretched, letting my tail swish back and forth as it tended to do when I was in a good mood. And why shouldn’t I be in a good mood? I had a Monet hanging from my living room wall, an art show opening tomorrow, and those idiot muggers had provided me with a little free entertainment.
After pouring myself a glass of wine, I lit a cigarette and slowly walked over to my stereo. Seconds later, my condo was filled with the sweet sounds of N’Sync and I began dancing a little to the music. I liked pop music and boy bands, though I’d never admit my musical tastes to any of my criminal associates, so this was definitely something of a guilty pleasure.
I continued dancing a little, swaying my tail back and forth as I went to my purse and pulled out the wallet that I’d swiped while giving that mugger a wedgie. There wasn’t much cash, but I did find a driver’s license and a credit card in the same name.
“Well James Davis,” I said with a smirk as I went over to my computer. “You tried to mug the wrong woman.”
A few minutes later, I used the mugger’s credit card to order a thousand dollars of really kinky sex toys, all to be delivered to the address on the driver’s license. I really hoped that Jimmy still lived with his mother, because that would be hilarious. And then just to amuse myself further, I bought him several monthly subscriptions to really embarrassing porn sites, and I topped it off by donating a hundred bucks to the Jehovah’s Witnesses in his name. Once those guys thought you might be interested, they’d hound you to the ends of the earth with their publications.
When I was done, I leaned back and grinned, wishing I could be there to see the look on his face when the toys arrived…or when he got the credit card bill. Then it suddenly dawned on me that if I was so bored that messing with a mugger was this entertaining, maybe it was time to add a little excitement back to my life.
“Okay, Imp,” I told myself with a sigh. “It looks like you’ve been on vacation long enough.”
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New York, Friday April 6th, 2007
It was my big night, the opening of my new art show. The gallery was hosting a party and had invited some of their best clients, many of whom were socialites, art collectors, or wealthy patrons. I didn’t think that anyone present had bank accounts at the Goodkind level, but this was fairly large for the local art scene…at least for this month. And to my amusement, I was the guest of honor.
At the moment, I was dressed to the nines…or at least as much as I ever was. I was wearing a slinky black dress with a pair of black stiletto heels. And of course, I was also wearing the magic medallion that hid my tail and horns, as well as my other odd features, allowing me to walk around without freaking out everyone there. I barely bit back a smirk as I walked around with a glass of champagne in my hand, looking at these potential buyers for my work and wondering what they’d think if they knew who I really was.
My tail was invisible, hidden by magic, but I was careful to keep it close to my body rather than letting it sway back and forth as it normally would. I didn’t want to risk hitting someone with my tail and making them question what it was. Fortunately, I had a lot of practice with keeping my tail close and under control. After all, there was very little that was as painful, awkward, or embarrassing as getting your tail caught in a door.
I smiled faintly as I looked around, recognizing a number of the people present. After all, not only were these the usual suspects for this kind of function, but many of them were also past victims and clients of mine.
“Ms. Kade,” a stocky and friendly looking man greeted me.
“Mister Swingwell,” I responded with a smile, immediately recognizing the wealthy philanthropist. He was well known for his benefits and the large donations he frequently made to several charities.
What most people didn’t know about Albert Swingwell was that he also had an extensive private collection of art, much of which he had acquired through less than legal means. However, I was quite aware of that collection since I was one of the sources he used to get new pieces. Over the years, I’ve collected half a dozen nice pieces for him, and though he wasn’t aware of it, I’d also taken a piece from him as well.
Though Swingwell and I had done business before, there was no flash of recognition as he looked at me. He gave me a charming smile, then took my hand and kissed the back of it. I wasn’t really used to that kind of treatment, though I was definitely enjoying the attention, and the knowledge that he had no idea of who I was or what I’d done.
“These are very lovely,” Swingwell said, gesturing to some of my paintings which hung from the wall. “I just may have to purchase one before the night is through.”
I just smirked at that since Swingwell already owned one of my paintings, even though he didn’t realize it. In fact, he probably still thought that it was the Matisse I’d switched it out for. My forgery was pretty good and it would take a better eye than his to catch that it was a fake. I didn’t always bother being quite that subtle about my thefts, especially since I got a kick out of showing off, but since Swingwell was one of my clients and I’d expected to do more business with him, I hadn’t wanted him to realize that there even was a theft, and certainly not who was behind it.
After talking with Swingwell for another minute, I continued to mingle with several other people. Then David called out, “Candice, I have someone I’d like to introduce you to.”
I went over and immediately recognized the person beside him, a tall and athletic man in his late forties. Marc Wellington was like Swingwell, a man with an exemplary reputation. Though from what I knew, Wellington, he wasn’t a phony and told people exactly what he stood for right out in the open. However, what he stood for was protecting normal people from the ‘mutant threat’.
Wellington was known as being a big supporter of the Knights of Purity, which was basically a militia group for hire. A militia group that existed for the sole purpose of fighting mutants. And in addition to that, he’d also donated a large amount of money to Humanity First, a hate group that targeted mutants.
Needless to say, I didn’t exactly like Wellington, which was one of the reasons I’d broken into his house a few years ago and stole a beautiful painting right off the wall of his living room. I figured that painting deserved to be owned by someone a lot better than him…like me. Of course, I didn’t just steal it…I left him a painting of dogs playing poker in exchange, which he hadn’t really appreciated.
“This is Marc Wellington,” David introduced me, so I put on a fake smile and pretended that I didn’t want to tear out his eyes. Maybe another visit to his home was in order. I heard that he had a few other nice pieces in his collection that should probably be liberated.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I lied.
“And it’s always nice to meet such a lovely lady,” Wellington told me smoothly, making me wonder what he’d do if I dropped my disguise right in front of him. Unfortunately, that would have resulted in throwing away everything I’d worked for, and I wasn’t going to do that…no matter how temping the thought. “And especially one this talented.”
“Such a smooth talker,” I said with a pleasant smile, talking with him for just another minute before I could make my escape.
Once I was away from Wellington, I casually tossed his wallet and Rolex into a trash can. Personally, I would have preferred to pawn the watch and have some fun with his credit cards, but I didn’t want to get caught with those things on me.
“This is beautiful work,” a new voice said, catching my attention. I looked at the handsome blonde man who stood beside me, admiring one of my better pieces.
“Thank you,” I told him, since unlike some of the other people here, he actually sounded sincere.
“You’re the artist?” he asked me with a pleasant smile.
“Either that or someone did a really nice forgery,” I joked, which actually got a chuckle in response.
“I’m Ryan Chambers,” he introduced himself.
“Candice,” I responded, even though I’d never liked that name. Sure, the name Candice Kade had something of a nice ring to it, but I’d always thought my first name sounded a bit too pretentious. Of course, shortening it to Candy would have been even worse.
I looked at Ryan, trying to remember if I’d heard anything about him. I think I’d heard David mentioning his name before, though I was pretty sure he wasn’t one of the big spenders. Still, he was friendly and seemed to actually appreciate my painting, which was much better than the rich stiffs, who were here mostly to be seen and socialize with each other.
“You’re quite talented,” Ryan said, giving me a pleasant smile before looking back at my painting. “On the surface, there’s a certain elegance to your work, but if you look closer, you can see the whimsy.”
“It’s rather boring, if you ask me,” a woman commented from the side. I didn’t know who the woman was, though I already didn’t like her.
“I suppose it’s a matter of opinion,” Ryan responded politely, though the tone in his voice indicated his disagreement.
The woman turned away and began talking to someone else, though I kept watching her from the corner of my eye as I made some small talk with Ryan. After a few minutes, I saw my opportunity and smacked her on the ass with the flat of my tail. She jumped and looked around with an angry expression, her glare settling on a young man who’d just walked past her. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing, and to just walk away instead.
The initial excitement of the party quickly wore off and I found myself getting bored and thinking of other ways I could amuse myself. However, other than the brief incidents with Wellington and the rude woman, I remained on my best behavior, knowing that this wasn’t the time to cut loose. That would come later.
Eventually, I took the opportunity to slip away, knowing that anyone who noticed my absence would probably just assume I’d gone home with one of the guests. I had no problem with that as it saved me the trouble of having to make up my own excuses. Now that I was done with the party, it was time to turn my attention to the real fun. I hurried to my car, giving it a brief look of distaste before climbing in and driving away. Driving a car might leave me feeling a little claustrophobic, but I couldn’t deny the practical uses, such as being able to store my gear and provide relatively privacy while I changed into my working outfit.
A short time later, I climbed out of my car into a dark parking garage, which I’d chosen for the lack of visibility just as much as I had for the location. But in spite of the fact that there was little light to see with, I had no problem doing so. My eyes might be a bit freaky looking, but they gave me great night vision. I just smiled as I looked around, making sure that there weren’t any witnesses. After all, I’d dropped my illusion and was wearing my professional costume, a tight red and black leather outfit that covered most of my body from the neck down. However, in addition to my usual costume, I was also wearing a black backpack, which contained a few things that I needed for this job.
As a professional criminal, there were numerous ways to apply my particular talents, my favorite being a good heist. However, a proper heist could take months to plan and might require a small team to pull it off. After I’d decided to get back into the game, I hadn’t wanted to waste any time, so I looked for something a little more immediate. I talked to a couple of my contacts and that had given me this job, something that was quick, easy…and frankly…a little beneath my skills. Still, it would get the adrenaline flowing as well as get me warmed up for something bigger.
I slipped out of the garage, then carefully made my way another two blocks without being seen, until I reached my destination. As far as Manhattan skyscrapers went, it was pretty middle of the road, but since the office I needed to reach was pretty near the top, that meant quite a long climb. I looked over the outside of the building, immediately spotting the security guards that were doing their rounds, knowing that there would also be guards on the inside, not to mention cameras. Still, I wasn’t the least bit concerned. There were several options available to me, so I decided to go with the one that was least likely to get me caught.
With that, I turned my attention to my primary mutant ability, a PK aura which surrounded my body. It wasn’t nearly as focused or distinct as the kind of PK shell that some mutants possessed, and I certainly wasn’t a brick because of it, but what my aura lacked in strength and power, it made up for in versatility. I could use my aura to perform a number of different tricks, most of which were extremely useful in the right situations.
For many mutants with a PK shell, their shell has a distinct appearance when active. It might glow with a specific color, make it look like they were covered with metal or some other material, and sometimes even make them look like someone else entirely. My PK aura could blend in with my environment, matching my surroundings so completely that I was like a chameleon. It took a second for my aura to adjust to changes, but as long as I was perfectly still or moving very slowly, I was effectively invisible.
“It’s showtime,” I said with a broad grin, thinking that this was going to be fun.
I carefully crept towards the side of the building, humming the theme from Mission Impossible, freezing entirely whenever a security guard looked in my direction. It was time consuming to move this way, but I’d long since learned the value of patience when it came to sneaking. Instead of going to the front door, I went to a side wall, then I looked up at the vast cliff of glass windows that stretched out above me. With a grin, I began climbing, moving up the smooth surface just as easily as if I’d been Spider Man.
This was another of my little tricks, being able to use my aura to cling to surfaces. Sticking to the glass was easy, though it still took a lot of time and effort to actually climb the entire tower. Fortunately, between my odd physiology and regeneration, I was in great physical shape. In fact, I was the physical equivalent of an exemplar 2, without technically being one.
When I was much younger, I’d only been able to focus my aura to perform one trick at a time, though fortunately, decades of practice had vastly extended my control. If it hadn’t been for that, I would have had to drop my stealth effect in order to make the climb, which would have left me visible to the security guards or anyone else who happened to look up at me.
I was about halfway up when I saw someone flying through the air, coming in my direction and causing me to freeze in place. I didn’t recognize the flyer, at least not from that distance, but I wasn’t surprised to see someone using powers like that. One thing about New York, it was completely infested by people with powers. Once the flyer was gone and I was sure the coast was clear, I continued my climb.
After I finally reached my destination, I stopped to count windows from the top, making sure that I was at the right spot, then I looked through the window, trying to make out what I could of the office on the other side. The window was alarmed in case someone tried the very thing I was about to do, and it would go off the moment I broke in. However, I’d come prepared for that.
I reached into a pouch on my belt and pulled out a small devise that was about the size of a golf ball and stuck it to the window where it remained. This was a useful little tool that would jam the alarm and keep it from triggering, though unfortunately, it was a one shot devise that would burn out after a single use. That was why I had a deal with the devisor who made those things, and why I bought them from him in bulk.
The next part took a bit of concentration since I had to use not two, but three aspects of my aura at the same time. While keeping myself hidden and stuck to the wall, I had to divert what energy I could spare to my hands…and to one finger. I had to be extremely careful because I could accidentally become visible again, or even worse, lose my connection to the wall and fall to my death.
When I wasn’t distracted by any other tasks, I was capable of concentrating all the energy from my PK aura to my hands, creating invisible PK claws which extended up to several inches from my fingernails, and which I could use to slice through steel…or in this case…glass. However, I was occupied with other tasks, so I only had enough spare aura to create a claw for a single finger, which I used to cut a hole through the window, one large enough for me to easily enter through.
A minute later, I was standing in the middle of a large and very nice looking office. An expensive wooden desk was placed in the middle, but there were several shelves and paintings on the walls, all of which combined to make the statement that this was the office of a wealthy executive. Someone who actually worked for a living would have had a much different office, one that was practical, with relevant books and awards rather than expensive art. This office was clearly meant for showing off and sending the message ‘I am in charge’.
The owner of this office was indeed a high ranking executive, one who was in charge of East Coast operations for his company. However, my client was his wife…ex-wife, whom he’d screwed over in the recent divorce…at least according to her. From what I’d been told, he stole all her best and most expensive jewelry in order to spite her, and kept it locked up in his office where she couldn’t get to it. Not only had she hired me to get it back, but to also take something that he valued in retaliation.
I looked around the office with a grin and half sang, “Where oh where can that little safe be? Where oh where can it be?” But even as I was doing this, I was going to the painting that hid the safe, rolling my eyes at just how cliché and obvious this one was. It took me only a minute to crack the safe, then I changed my song to, “I’m in the money…”
I quickly removed the jewelry and dumped it into my backpack, then I grabbed the stack of ‘spending cash’ that had been left in the safe. It was only ten grand, but ten grand is still ten grand and would make for a nice little bonus. That went into the backpack as well. There was a handgun in the safe, which I left where it was, though I did take a small pile of papers and dumped them into the outgoing mail bin.
Next, it was time to turn my attention to the retaliation part of my job. I went to a display case and stared at the contents, a stone figurine of an overly endowed woman. According to my client, this represented some kind of fertility goddess and was a prized possession of her ex-husband, who’d taken it home as a souvenir from some kind of archeological dig vacation about a decade earlier.
I quickly popped open the display case, then stared at the figurine for a moment, suddenly thinking that it looked like something which might actually be magical. I frowned at that since the last thing I wanted from this job was to accidentally end up with some kind of curse. I didn’t mess with magic, preferring to leave that kind of thing to other specialists, but I did like to be prepared. I reached into a pouch on my belt and pulled out a green marble, which was a trinket that I’d bought from a magic user. It glowed a little in the presence of magic, and since it wasn’t glowing now, that indicated that this figurine was just what it appeared to be…a very old piece of art…and porno art at that.
I reached into my backpack for the little item that I’d brought along just for this purpose, then I stood in front of the figurine, humming the theme from Indiana Jones as I prepared to switch the figurine out with my replacement. There was no pressure plate or booby trap like there was in the movie, but that wasn’t the point. As soon as I was done, I put the figurine into my backpack and made sure it was firmly strapped to my back.
Just as I began to leave the same way I’d entered, I took one more look back at the display case that used to hold the figurine, grinning as I did so. Instead of the figurine, it now held the Mr. Potatohead that I’d brought as a replacement. I gave the toy a brief wave goodbye, thanked him for his noble sacrifice, then made my exit.
Once I was safely back at the parking garage, I climbed back into my car and hit play on my Spice Girls CD. “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,” I sang along, tapping my fingers along the steering wheel in time with the music. Now, I just had to meet up with my client, then I could go home and celebrate my successful night.
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New York, Saturday April 7th, 2007
The art museum was one of my favorite places in New York, something that I considered to be on the same level of importance as the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, and that little dive bar that served those great mojitos. The museum was like my home away from home…or as I liked to think of it…my personal lending library.
Though the museum had a lot of paintings from famous artists like Picasso, Warhol, and Rockwell, it also had a great collection from equally talented artists that the average person had never even heard of. Those were the paintings that I tended to be drawn to the most, the ones that were beautiful works but were often underappreciated. In fact, I’d even done my part to give a couple of my favorite pieces a little more attention, stealing them in a flashy robbery, then letting some hero recover them while I made my escape.
I paused in front of one piece, smiling as I looked it over. It was a beautiful example of impressionism, though it had been a real pain in the ass to get the brush strokes right. I’d spent a lot of time making this forgery and it had been well worth it. The original was hanging in my living room where I could admire it every time I walked through. However, I’ve had it long enough so it was about time to return it to the museum and borrow another piece instead. I’ve done this half a dozen times over the years, borrowing a painting from the museum for a few months or a year, then returning it without them ever even knowing.
I might be a thief, but I had a great deal of respect for museums and the value of making art available for everyone to see. And though I had stolen a couple pieces with no intention of returning them, I’d also made a few anonymous donations of my own. Most of my donations of that sort had been taken from private collectors, who often had them illegally in the first place so couldn’t report them as stolen. After enjoying the paintings myself for a time, I’d donate them to a museum for others to appreciate. It was ironic to consider the fact that I’d actually donated more pieces to this museum than I’d stolen.
When I was younger, I’d started my career as a thief simply as a way to make money, stealing cash, jewelry, or anything else I could sell for a nice profit. At the time, it had been a way for me to make a living when most legitimate careers just weren’t an option, and admittedly, it had even been a bit of a ‘screw you’ to the world that treated me like a freak and a monster. It was only after I’d become financially stable that I’d been able to focus less on the money and more on my hobbies and interests, stealing paintings simply because I wanted them for my own collection, and even donating some of those to museums. And then recently, I’d somehow stumbled into a second career as a legitimate artist as well, something that I’d dreamed of as a kid, before I’d manifested as a mutant.
Just then, my thoughts were interrupted by some loud talking, which came from a group on the other side of the room. I watched them for a moment, annoyed at the way most of them were chatting and distracting everyone who was actually there to look at the art. Then I noticed the tour guide, who had a fake smile plastered to his face while his eyes held a clear look of exasperation. A tour group.
“This one kinda looks like the bayou back in Loosiana,” a teenage girl exclaimed with a thick Southern accent that I thought might be Cajun. She was pointing to one of the paintings while the tour guide let out a visible sigh.
I shook my head, then turned my attention to another painting, my favorite painting in the entire museum. It was a beautiful piece called Waking at Dawn, which had been painted by an artist that most people had never heard of. Still, I loved the way he played with light and shadows, which was why I’d stolen this painting from Wellington in the first place. After keeping it in my collection for two years, I’d donated it to the museum, though I made a point of coming to look at it at least once a month.
“Much better than my forgery,” I mused to myself. I’d tried copying this painting back when I had it at home, but I just couldn’t catch the elements that made it so special.
I stood there for several minutes, silently admiring the masterpiece while being fully aware that the still chattering tour group was getting closer. They were getting on my nerves, though I tried to ignore them.
“This one looks like a kindergartener painted it,” one woman exclaimed. I looked over to the painting that she was staring at and nodded faintly. I wasn’t a big fan of the abstract style myself, or at least not most of it.
As far as I was concerned, there were too many talentless hacks who simply threw paint on a canvas and called it abstract, then exclaimed that anyone who didn’t like it just wasn’t sophisticated enough to understand it. Those kind of ‘artists’ always made me think of The Emperor’s New Clothes, where they’d intimidate everyone into going along with their stated delusion for fear of looking foolish.
I continued eavesdropping as the tour guide told the group a little about that painting, but then his cell phone started ringing. The tour guide answered it, and a few seconds later, he exclaimed, “I have a small emergency. I’ll be back in just a few minutes…” With that, he rushed off, leaving the group without a guide.
While I looked at the next painting, I was fully aware of the way the tour group was scattering and making noise. I was still vaguely annoyed at them, especially as several of them began to heckle the paintings. When one man started to make a rude joke about Waking at Dawn, I began to wonder how he’d react if I dropped my disguise and yelled ‘boo’ at him.
Then an old woman commented, “This one is kind of dark…and not very good.”
I looked to the painting that she was staring at and nodded. “That’s because he wasn’t a very good artist,” I commented, being quite familiar with that particular painting. I’d once stolen another piece by the same artist, though hadn’t cared enough to keep it for myself. “That painting is here more because of who painted it than because he had any skill.”
“What do you mean?” the old woman asked, giving me a curious look.
“Arnold Dexler,” I said, naming the artist. “Back in the early sixties, he was a superhero called the Atomic Fist.”
That suddenly caught the attention of most of the tour group, and they began to gather up to listen to me. “Well ah’ll be, the Cajun girl said with a definite look of interest. “Was he a mutant?”
I took another look at the girl, who was slender and cute, with long brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. I guessed her age at around fourteen or fifteen. She was staring at the picture with an odd look in her eyes that really caught my attention.
I shrugged at that, then answered, “As far as anyone knows, he got his powers from an origin event. What we do know was that after he died in sixty-four, his identity was revealed, and it came out that he’d been painting as a way of dealing with the stress in his life. These paintings don’t show a lot of skill, but they are filled with his emotions. If you look, you can see hints of the things he was going through in his life at the time. In this one, you can see his worry about atomic weapons. Remember, he painted this during the cold war, at a time when there was a lot of fear about what atomic weapons could do.”
After talking about the painting for another minute and answering a couple questions, I found myself telling the group about the painting next to it. That one didn’t have quite as exciting an origin, but I told them what I knew, pointing out some of the things the artist had done to make the painting stand out. Then, I found myself doing the same thing to a third painting, effectively having taken over for the tour guide.
When the real tour guide returned, the group went back to rejoin him, though the Cajun girl actually came closer to me. “Y’all sure know a lot about that art stuff,” she said.
“A little,” I responded with a chuckle.
“Ah’m Alicia,” she introduced herself, holding her hand out, much to my amusement since I didn’t know a lot of people who did the hand-shake thing anymore, and especially not girls.
“Christine,” I responded wryly, shaking her hand as I gave her my middle name. It wasn’t quite as pretentious sounding as my first name.
“Ah don’t know much about this art stuff,” the girl…Alicia admitted with a sigh. “That’s why mah mama signed me up for this tour. Mah folks brought me ta New York for spring break so ah’d get some culture…” She put emphasis on the last word, rolling her eyes to show what she thought of that idea. “Like we ain’t got plenty of art and culture in N’awlins.”
I nodded at that, then looked to the tour group, but Alicia didn’t get the hint. “You know,” I said, deciding that I might as well teach her something. “Art might seem boring at first, but a lot of artists live interesting lives.” I gestured to a nearby painting and told her, “This one had manic depression, married a model, spent a year in jail for beating the crap out of the guy he caught his wife sleeping with…and eventually committed suicide.” Alicia stared at the painting in surprise while I continued. “Every piece tells a story, even if the artist is the only one to know the whole thing. But if you look closely enough, you can usually make out some of that that story is.”
“Wow,” Alicia exclaimed, giving me a look of surprise. “How do ya know so much about this stuff?”
“I steal paintings for a living,” I answered with a grin, knowing that she wouldn’t believe me. As I expected, she gave me a skeptical look. “No, really. I’m actually a dangerous super villain.” I just stood there with a smirk, absently waving my tail back and forth.
“Well, it was nice meetin ya, Miss Christine,” Alicia told me, looking to the tour group that was starting to leave the room and then chasing after them.
I finished looking around the room and started into the next room as well, noting that the tour guide still had that fake smile plastered to his face. This time, Alicia actually seemed to be paying attention to him, or at least to the paintings he was pointing out. I chuckled at that, glad that that I’d been able to spark some interest.
I was just starting to look over a new painting, a recent addition to the museum, when I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot from the next room. I snapped around to look in the direction of the source, only to see a group of armed men burst into the room I was in. Three of them came in, waving their guns and yelling for everyone to hit the floor.
“Nobody move,” one of the gunmen yelled, making me wonder if they’d coordinated because the other guys were telling us to drop to the floor.
I glared at these men, angry at the very sight of them. People who committed robbery by bursting in with guns blazing were the worst sort of criminals. They were stupid, lazy, and reckless…no different from common muggers, except for more heavily armed. As a professional, I was offended by this kind of amateurish behavior.
“On the floor,” the gunman yelled, gesturing for everyone to drop. There were cries of fear from the tour group, though I was more annoyed than afraid. As everyone started getting on the floor, he pointed his rifle at a painting and fired, blowing a large hold through the middle of it. “No one move…”
I stared at the ruined painting in horror, feeling a surge of anger bubbling up at the sight. I glared at the man who’d just destroyed it, silently promising that he was going to pay for that. When they burst in like this, they’d offended me as a professional. But to actively destroy a beautiful work of art…that really pissed me off.
As soon as they moved past and I saw my opportunity, I burst into motion, jumping at the nearest gunman and tearing the gun out of his hand. In the process, the illusion that was hiding my real features dropped, letting everyone present see who and what I really was. The gunmen all jumped in surprise and even a little fear.
“Boo,” I exclaimed, punching the gunman in front of me and breaking his nose in the process.
I jumped at the next man, coming in low and using my tail to wrap around the third man’s ankle. I yanked the third man’s feet out from underneath him while I focused on the one in front of me. My nails were hard, sharp, and much like claws, so even when I wasn’t using any PK tricks, they could do some damage. I proved this by slashing across his face, tearing the gun from his hand and then grabbing hold of his fingers.
“You destroyed a MASTERPIECE,” I snarled furiously, pulling all his fingers back until they all popped and he screamed in pain.
I’d tripped the third man, but even from the floor he managed to get a shot off, catching me in the side. My working outfit had a bulletproof liner, but at the moment, I was just wearing normal civilian clothes. I yelped in pain, then kicked the gun out of his hands before kicking him several times in the face. Only then did I allow myself to drop to my knees and hold my wound.
All of the tour group hostages took advantage of the opportunity to run out of the room, all except one. The girl Alicia hurried to my side, staring at me with a look of surprise, but also looking worried. “Miss Christine,” she gasped.
“Call me Imp,” I responded with a grimace, giving her a curious look and wondering what was wrong with her. Why hadn’t she run away like everyone else? “I told you I was a super villain…”
My side really hurt where I’d been shot, but I knew it wouldn’t kill me. I had regeneration, which meant that unless these guys shot me some more, I’d be good as new within an hour. However, being able to heal quickly didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Y’all stopped those assholes,” Alicia said, looking to the gunmen who were on the ground bleeding. “Ah think you’re a hero…”
“Hardly,” I responded with a snort before standing up and letting out a sigh. “They just got in my way.” Then I paused to ask, “And why the hell aren’t you running away like everyone else? I’ll have you know, I’m a very scary person.”
Alicia just snorted at that. “Ah go to school with kids who are a hell of a lot scarier lookin than you.”
“That must be some school,” I responded wryly while she just nodded agreement.
Just then, a couple more armed men charged into the room, followed a moment later by a man in costume. The costumed man seemed tall and thin, though it was difficult to be sure of his build because he was wearing a bright red cloak, with the hood up so it covered much of his head. The cloak had a gold metal broach in the shape of a hexagon, and from what I could see of the rest of his costume, it was black and included a medallion that was the same hexagon shape as the broach. And then, as if to keep with the motif, the man held a gold metal staff, with the head of the staff being shaped like a hexagon.
“I am Hexagon,” the newcomer announced in an arrogant tone.
I had a bad feeling about this so reached into my pocket for the little green marble, which was glowing. I groaned at that, having just confirmed that there was magic nearby, or at least, magic other than my own medallion. I hated dealing with magic since you never knew what it could do.
“Were all the good magician names taken?” I taunted him, gesturing for Alicia to get away while she could. “And who are these goons? Dodecahedron, polygon, and the square?”
Hexagon stared at me, his expression looking vaguely surprised. “You don’t look like a hero…”
“I’m not,” I responded, annoyed that I’d been mistaken for a hero twice in the last few minutes. “My reputation must be slipping. I’m called the Imp.”
“Hero or not,” Hexagon exclaimed, looking to the men I’d taken out. “You’ve interfered in my business and will pay the price.”
“Do you take debit?” I joked. Then I looked towards the destroyed painting before giving Hexagon and his men a flat look. “Just a warning… If any of you so much as scratches one of those paintings…I’m going to tear off your balls and dance the mamushka on them.”
“Get the demon,” Hexagon commanded.
“Imp,” I corrected as I dove to the side, wondering how I could get out of this.
The armed men must have taken my warning seriously because they didn’t open fire on me. Instead, two of them charged at me, obviously intending to take me on hand to hand, or at least at closer range.
Suddenly, Alicia called out, “Hey bioque,” which caught me by surprise since I thought the girl was smart enough to run when she had the chance. When one of the gunmen turned to look at her, she gulped, “Merde…”
“Get out of here, kid,” I snapped at her, jumping back away from one of the gunmen. I hated having to fight like this, preferring to run away when I could.
The gunman who was closest to me suddenly staggered and bumped into the one beside him, much to my surprise. Then I saw Alicia standing back with a look of concentration on her face. Somehow, she was responsible for that. Obviously, there was more to that girl than I’d thought.
“Do you really think you can beat me?” I taunted Hexagon. “I once fought Lady Astarte.” Of course, it would have been more accurate to say I’d run away from Lady Astarte, but they didn’t need to know that.
One of the gunmen was about to open fire, but Hexagon warned him, “Careful. We don’t want to damage what we came here for.”
I kicked the nearest gunman, then slashed at him with my nails, leaving a nice set of scratches across his face. As I spun around, I used my tail to grab the gun from the next guy.
I looked at Hexagon, who was standing back while his men came at me. I grinned and called out, “Hexahere, hexago, hexacome, hex is slow…”
Hexagon grimaced and began calling something out in a strange language, then a burst of red light shot out of his hand. I dodged to the side, easily avoiding it, though I did wonder how in the world I’d gotten myself in this situation. This was NOT what I did. I robbed places like this, not protect them from burglars. I had to haul my ass out of here as soon as possible.
Alicia was still standing back, watching with a nervous but defiant look on her face. One of the gunmen was getting back up and she stared at him, only to have him start staggering again. Then she turned her attention to another gunman who had the same reaction.
“Neat little trick you’re doing there kid,” I commented, dodging another blast from Hexagon.
“Ah’m a mutant,” Alicia admitted, giving me a look as though daring me to make something of it. “Ah’m called Headrush…”
“Yeah,” I responded with a roll of my eyes. “Like I said…nice trick. But you should probably run…”
Alicia hesitated a moment, then started to run for the door. Hexagon gestured at her with his staff and suddenly the ground beneath her began to glow in the shape of a hexagon. She hit the edge of the glow and came to a sudden stop, as though she’d hit a wall.
“A hostage may be useful,” Hexagon stated, staring at Alicia with a grim look. “One with powers may have other uses as well.”
“Oh no ya don’t,” Alicia protested, hitting and kicking at an invisible wall. “Ah’m not gonna be anyone’s hostage… I’ll feed ya’ll to the gators if ya even think about it…”
“Don’t you dare,” I said, glaring at Hexagon. “Don’t you dare put me in a position where I have to rescue a hostage…”
Hexagon gestured at me with his staff, and suddenly there was a glowing hexagon beneath me as well. I tried to step out of it, only to find that I couldn’t. Just like with Alicia, I seemed to be trapped.
“I’ve had enough of your interference,” Hexagon stated, giving me a cold look.
“You know,” I told him, “this whole thing is just a misunderstanding…”
Hexagon raised his hand to fire another blast of energy at me, and this time, I was stuck in place and couldn’t dodge out of the way. I felt a little worried, but I refused to let this prick see that. Instead, I called up all the energy from my PK aura and gathered it in one spot as I gave him the finger.
“Foolish demon,” Hexagon exclaimed, firing a blast of energy at me.
The blast hit me in the center of my chest, right in the spot where I had all my PK energy focused into an area the size of a dinner plate. My small focused shield protected me from the blast, knocking me back a little but doing no damage. Of course, if Hexagon had hit me anywhere other than that spot, I would have been toast, but I sure wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Imp…not demon,” I reminded him with a smirk.
Hexagon scowled, then gestured to his men. “Complete your task.”
With that, his men all began to scramble, grabbing paintings off the wall at random. I was trapped in place, helpless to do anything but watch as they worked. And when they’d taken a third of the paintings in the room, they grabbed Alicia and hurried off, leaving me behind.
Five minutes after Hexagon and his men left, the glowing hexagon on the floor vanished, releasing me from my prison. I looked at the empty spaces on the walls, feeling a surge of anger at the sight. All those beautiful paintings, taken by those amateurish assholes. They didn’t even have any style. And then I thought of that poor kid they’d taken and shook my head in disgust.
With that, I held my injured side, muttered a few choice profanities, then hurried out of the museum, easily slipping past the gathering police. After that, I just wanted to go home, get drunk, and forget this day had ever happened.
--------------------
New York, Sunday April 8th, 2007
I sat in front of my computer, tapping my nails on my desk and scowling as I read through the list of paintings that had been stolen yesterday. Normally, I didn’t begrudge someone else a little success in their heist, but yesterday had definitely been different. First off, those guys had been crude and violent, lacking any style or finesse at all. That offended me as a professional, though most of the time I still would have just shrugged it off as not my business. However, they’d hit the art museum…MY museum. They’d taken nearly two dozen paintings, several of which I myself had donated. That made it personal. The fact that they’d destroyed a masterpiece and had taken Waking at Dawn, my favorite painting, only made it even more so.
Of course, Hexagon and his men had tried to kill me, but I didn’t really hold that against them…at least not too much. That kind of thing was just one of the risks of the business I was in, and if I took something like that personally, then I might end up as one of those idiots who spent half their time trying to get revenge on anyone who’d crossed them. As my mentor liked to tell me, revenge wasn’t profitable.
Then my thoughts to turned to Alicia, the girl who’d been kidnapped because she tried to stick around and help me out. Stupid kid. What in the world had she been thinking? And Hexagon… Taking hostages was another mark of an amateur…but taking a kid was just low.
I leaned back in my chair, my tail swishing back and forth as I thought about what I was going to do. I was a thief…not a hero. I wasn’t responsible for rescuing the hostage or recovering the paintings, and I knew I should just let this go. But I couldn’t. He’d taken that girl, who was only there because she was trying to help me. And he’d taken my favorite painting, one that I’d gone through a great deal of effort to steal in the first place.
Then I grinned. “I might not be a hero, but I am an art thief. I’m just going to have to go steal my painting back.”
With that, I began calling some of my contacts to get the ball rolling. I’d already used one to get a full list of what had been taken during the robbery, but now I needed to find out where Hexagon was hiding and what kind of security he might have. Most of the time, I came across as reckless and impulsive, but the truth was, I was very good at planning out my heists. Preparation was the hallmark of a professional.
The first thing I did was try to get a copy of the security footage from the museum. I thought that if I could see everything that occurred from the moment Hexagon arrived to the moment he left, it might give me a better idea of what he was really after. However, a few calls revealed that there was no camera footage, that all of it had been completely erased.
“Either he has a few more magic tricks than he showed,” I thought aloud, “or he had some kind of hacker helping him out.” Since I’d seen him use magic but hadn’t seen evidence of anything more high tech than a machine gun, I was bettering it was the former. “I hate dealing with magic.”
That particular line of investigation was dead, but I wasn’t out of tricks or contacts. In fact, there was one contact who was good at coming through for me, at least once I could get him motivated. Fortunately, he owed me one…a big one from the time I’d saved him from getting murdered.
“Hey Bob,” I said, grinning to myself and fighting back the urge to hum the theme from Jeopardy. “You remember that favor you owe me…the diamond necklace I got you for your wife’s birthday? Yes. I need a little information on some schmuck called Hexagon… Yeah, the guy from the art heist yesterday. You see, he took a little piece I wanted, so I need to know where to find it…”
Once I was done making my calls, I decided that what I needed next was another look at the crime scene, one where I wasn’t having to dodge bullets at the same time. I already had some ideas percolating around in my head, but thought this might be what I needed to help them settle into place.
I got dressed in my working clothes, then grabbed the black motorcycle helmet from the corner where it was sitting. The helmet had been custom made for me, just so it would actually work with my horns. As stylish as they were, they did tend to make it impossible for me to wear most helmets.
My motorcycle was locked up in storage just a short distance from where I lived, having been there since before my little vacation. It was sleek, black, and had been made for me by the Highwayman, a gadgeteer who specialized in motorcycles. It was also my favorite mode of transportation, being fast, maneuverable, and best of all, it didn’t trigger any sense of claustrophobia or being trapped. Unfortunately, during my last big heist, something had gone wrong and I ended up having to make a high speed escape on my bike. After that exciting chase, law enforcement and heroes had been on the lookout for my bike, which was why I’d tucked it into a safe hiding place until now.
After I’d retrieved my bike, I climbed on and revved the engine, which made almost no sound at all. I grinned at that, remembering just how many times I’d buzzed unsuspecting people, catching them by surprise as I flew by without warning. The only downside to this bike was that it wasn’t very practical for transporting the kind of things I usually stole.
I spent a little time just riding around, making sure that my bike really was working the way it should after such a long rest, and generally just having fun. Eventually though, I ended up back at the art museum, where I parked my bike in an out of the way spot a short distance away. I made the rest of the short trip on foot, using my stealth ability to stay hidden as I broke into the closed museum and began looking around.
Two rooms had been hit, and there were a number of places with blank spots on the wall. I scowled as I looked them over, mentally noting which painting had been in each place, as well as which paintings remained. I let out a sigh of relief as I noticed that another painting that I liked had been spared.
Though I wasn’t a detective and had never been trained to investigate crimes, I was very experienced with how crimes were committed and what a skilled thief would do. This particular robbery had definitely been poorly executed, though I’d already known that from the way they burst in with guns blazing and had taken a hostage. However, in addition to that, their selection of stolen paintings truly seemed to be random. They’d stolen a few paintings with very low resale value while leaving behind masterpieces that some private collectors would jump at the chance of owning.
“Amateurs,” I muttered in contempt.
Any thief worth the name would have come in with a plan, having done their research and knowing which paintings were the most valuable and which ones they could get away with. The fact that they’d grabbed paintings at random with no indication of having a plan was enough to make me shake my head in disgust. Even if I hadn’t been personally involved in this, their sheer incompetence would have been enough to make me want to go after them…for the honor of my profession if nothing else.
Then I froze as something occurred to me. “Red herring…”
About nine years ago, I broke into a museum in Chicago and made a big deal about stealing a Rembrandt. Several members of the Chicago Crusaders chased after me, and though I escaped, they’d managed to get the painting back. Afterwards, the museum and heroes were so busy celebrating the successful recovery, they didn’t realize that my partner had used the distraction in order switch out several other paintings with my forgeries. Sometimes the obvious theft was nothing more than a diversion to hide the real target.
I looked over the empty spaces again, realizing that while the targets may have been random, not all of them were. Hexagon may have come for one or two specific pieces and merely used the rest of the thefts to keep anyone from suspecting what he was really after. The question was why? I’d need to think about this a little more.
Once I was done looking over the museum, I made my way up to the roof, simply because I tended to think better when I was high up. Being above it all always made me feel like I had a bit more privacy, and like I was getting some fresh air. Of course, in a crowded city like New York, fresh air was just an illusion, but it was an illusion I could appreciate.
I stood at the edge of the roof and looked out at the scenery, what little there was of it. Mostly, I saw big buildings and traffic, though there was one direction that actually looked rather interesting. In fact, that image just might make for a nice cityscape painting. I was thinking about how I’d go about painting that particular scene when something suddenly hit me from the side and pulled me back. I let out a loud grunt, only to realize that someone had grabbed me from behind and was holding me tight.
“I’ve got you now, Imp,” a familiar voice exclaimed from behind me.
Acting almost completely on reflex, I shifted my PK aura, using a trick that was almost the exact opposite of the one I used to climb walls. Instead of sticking to what I was touching, my aura reduced friction and become incredibly slick, letting me easily slip out of the arms that held me, almost as though I was a greased pig. This particular trick was also great for squeezing through tight spaces, like ventilation shafts. I hit the ground and rolled back from my attacker before I sprang back to my feet.
“Chickenhawk,” I exclaimed, staring at the costumed hero who’d ambushed me.
He was dressed in a dark blue and white costume that was mostly a form of tight and lightweight armor that resembled spandex from a distance. He had a dark blue cowl that covered most of his head, including the upper part of his face, leaving only the lower part of his face exposed. And of course, his costume had a symbol on the chest that resembled a bird with the wings spread out.
“That’s Superhawk,” he snapped in clear annoyance, putting an emphasis on the ‘super’ part of his name.
I just grinned at my old sparring partner, the hero I’d encountered far more than any other during my career. If I actually had an arch-enemy, it probably would have been him, so I shouldn’t have been surprised to run into him. After all, Chickenhawk always had a knack for finding me when I was out on business.
“Come on, it’s Easter Sunday,” I complained with a sigh. “Can’t you give a poor Imp a break?”
“When I heard that you’d robbed the museum,” Chickenhawk stated in a grim tone, “I had a feeling that you’d come back sooner or later in order to gloat…”
I made a show of buffing my nails on my uniform, then blowing on them. “Oh, I’m gloating,” I told him smugly. “But only at how dumb you are. I didn’t rob anything…at least not yesterday.”
“This time, you aren’t getting away,” Chickenhawk exclaimed, though he remained where he was, hesitant to come close enough for me to use my claws on him. “This time I’m taking you in.”
“Imp-possible,” I exclaimed, giving him a raspberry, which seemed to annoy him.
Chickenhawk formed a ball of blue energy in his hand sent it flying right at me, though I was expecting this move so dove to the side. Getting hit with that wouldn’t hurt me, at least not directly, but it would be extremely inconvenient. I’ve been hit with those things before and had no intention of getting hit again if I could avoid it.
“Neener neener neener,” I taunted him, turning around to shake my ass and tail at him.
Chickenhawk was getting even more annoyed, which was exactly what I was aiming for. Whenever I fought him and other heroes, I liked to play up my…eccentricities, intentionally convincing them that I was impulsive and reckless so that they’d underestimate me. So far, my strategy had worked quite well for me, because even after years of dancing, Chickenhawk still wasn’t able to predict all my moves.
My flying opponent, on the other hand, had gotten just a little predictable. I’ve dealt with him enough times to realize that he wasn’t really a flying brick like he often pretended. Instead, he was actually some kind of gravity warper…able to manipulate his own gravity so he could fly, and that of anything he touched so he could come off as being stronger than he actually was. Between that and his armor, he was pretty good at distracting people from his real powers. Of course, these balls of warped gravity that he shot at me were a nice giveaway to the true nature of his abilities. If one of those hit me, my gravity would be briefly altered in some way, making me weigh three times what I normally did, fall up into the air, or something else just as inconvenient.
“You’re going to pay for this one,” Chickenhawk told me, throwing another ball of warped gravity at me. I dove out of the way of that one and then dodged the next.
“Go, ah say, go away boy,” I called out in best Foghorn Leghorn voice, which was probably pretty bad. “You bother me.”
Chickenhawk snarled, “Do you EVER shut up?”
I just grinned at that and continued with my looney impersonation. “Ah say, boy, you’ve got an over-abundance of determination, but you’re a little short in the noddle department. Brains that is. About as sharp as a bowling ball.”
“You do know,” he pointed out, almost sounding amused. “In those cartoons, the chickenhawk usually wins…”
“That’s your problem right there. You think real life is like a cartoon,” I responded, blowing him another raspberry.
So far, Chickenhawk was keeping his distance from me, which was a good thing because even if he didn’t really have enhanced strength, things could still get pretty bad if he actually got his hands on me. I was just glad we were on the rooftop where he didn’t have a lot of options, since there were times when he’d actually tried hitting me with cars.
I decided that it was time to go on the offense, at least enough to keep him off balance. I reached into my pouch and pulled out several small metal throwing spikes, each of which was about four inches long. Then I focused the energy from my PK aura to my hand, using it to give one of the spikes a boost as I threw it. The spike flew through the air with more force than I would have been able to give it with a normal throw, enough so that when I missed Chickenhawk, it drove halfway into the brick wall behind him.
Chickenhawk hesitated a moment, knowing that his armor could probably protect him from a direct hit with one of my spikes…unless I hit him in one of the weaker spots, and there were plenty of those. That put him on the defensive and kept him from throwing so many of those gravity balls at me.
I tossed another spike, not bothering to put any extra force behind it since I was actually aiming at his chest. I wanted to keep him off balance and away from me, not kill him. After all, I was a thief…not an assassin.
“You know good and well I didn’t pull this robbery,” I commented almost absently. I buffed my nails again and made a show of not acting concerned, which only made him more cautious. “I mean, those idiots had absolutely no style at all… Not like me…”
“Witnesses say you were there,” Chickenhawk pointed, though there was a note of hesitation in his voice. He knew me well enough to know that this robbery wasn’t my style, at least now that he was thinking about it.
“Sure,” I responded with a broad grin. “I was casing the joint so I could steal a piece…then those jerks jumped the gun and got it before me.” I gave an exaggerated shrug, then continued, “I may be imp-pulsive, but I do have my standards.”
Chickenhawk seemed to believe that, but said, “Either way, you’re going to jail…”
“Are you sure?” I asked with a grin, and then in a sing-song voice I announced, “I have some imp-portant information on the robbery…”
“All the more reason to take you in,” he stated, landing on the ground and slowly coming towards me. I saw him trying to form a glowing ball in his hand, while his hands were down and angled so I wasn’t supposed to notice. He was going to try hitting me by surprise.
“Ah, but think about what we could do if we worked together,” I teased him, knowing full well that he’d never go for that. In fact, there was no way that I’d ever work with that self-righteous goon either, but that wasn’t the point of the offer. I just wanted to keep him off balance. “I can steal the painting that they stole from the museum before I could steal it fair and square…” I paused, and then almost as if an afterthought, I added, “And you can go save that hostage girl…”
“This isn’t a joke,” Chickenhawk snapped. “That girl might very well be dead…”
“Did you know she’s a mutant?” I asked cheerfully. Chickenhawk’s body language shifted at that, just enough to indicate he was a little surprised. “She’s got this neat trick of making people dizzy or something… I’m not really sure, but I think Hexagon wants her alive because of it. I bet she’s at his crib, getting down and having a big party…”
Chickenhawk finally made his move and tried to hit me with another gravity ball at closer range, but I was prepared for it. I’d used my PK aura to make sure my feet were firmly stuck to the ground, then I used what energy I could spare to try shielding myself from the attack, not that it did any good. I’d created a small shielded area around my chest, but he hit me in the stomach instead. I immediately felt gravity reverse, though I remained where I was, letting out a yawn.
“Was that supposed to do something?” I asked the obviously surprised Chickenhawk, hoping that my hair didn’t ruin the effect since it was all going straight up now. “Are you sure you don’t want to work with me on this? I mean, I can cut you in for a percentage… I’ll even teach you how to crack a safe…”
“You’re insane,” Chickenhawk exclaimed, clearly frustrated.
“Does this mean you don’t want to be my partner?” I asked with a mock pout. This whole thing was really starting to annoy him, so I made a mental note to try this routine again. I grinned broadly and announced, “Come to the dark side. We have cookies.” I licked my lips and added, “Chocolate chip.”
Chickenhawk lunged at me, apparently deciding to risk my claws. I dove to the side, and using my aura to reduce friction, I hit the ground and slid across the roof before coming to a stop and bouncing back to my feet. Then I quickly pulled a small smoke bomb from my pouch and stared at the hero.
“Then I guess I’ll be going,” I told Chickenhawk, giving him a friendly wave before calling out, “Ninja vanish,” and throwing the smoke bomb to the ground at my feet.
There was a burst of smoke, which completely hid me from Chickenhawk’s sight. I immediately activated my stealth effect and dove to the side, hitting a good spot and freezing. When the smoke cleared a moment later, Chickenhawk looked over the rooftop, his eyes going right past where I was crouched, not seeing me at all.
“Damn it,” Chickenhawk exclaimed. “She teleported again. Every damn time…”
I remained where I was, trying to hold back a laugh as the hero spent the next minute cursing me with a surprising variety of profanities. A couple of them were even in Spanish. I was quite a talented woman, but teleportation wasn’t actually one of my gifts. It was pretty funny though because I’d been pulling this trick on Chickenhawk for years, and he still hadn’t caught on.
Once Chickenhawk gave up and flew off, I remained where I was for several more minutes just to make sure. Only then did I move again, laughing loudly as I did so. The last time I had that much fun was during that job in Vegas with Pinball. I continued grinning like the cat who ate the canary, all the way back to my bike. Now I just had to do a little more research.
--------------------
New York, Monday April 9th, 2007
Superbad was a bar for villains, though not the successful ones like Dr. Diabolik or Deathlist. Instead, Superbad was more of a dive bar that catered to the lower level street villain, the kind who often weren’t successful enough as criminals to make a living off it and who had to have day jobs as well.
There were a couple other villain bars in town, such as Moriarty’s, which was a bit high end and snobby, or the Black Mask, which was my usual hangout, but Superbad was probably the most casual. As someone who was moderately successful, hanging around this place could be bad for my reputation, but I occasionally came here anyway. It was one of the few places where I could sit back and have a drink as myself.
I was at the back of the bar, sitting down at a small table and nursing a beer. My tail swished back and forth in time to the music that was playing from the old jukebox. However, I wasn’t drinking alone. My companion was Bob Zabrowski, a stocky man in his early fifties who had a bent nose and a prominent scar that ran across his face. Bob used to be a smalltime villain, until he’d gotten his ass seriously kicked by an overzealous street vigilante. The beating had been bad enough that Bob had quit the villain game, at least directly, though he still tried to keep his hands in by trading information and favors with people.
Bob pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and then without a word, he held the pack out to me. I took one of the cigarettes and lit it, keeping my eyes on Bob to watch his body language. After blowing out a stream of smoke, I finally asked, “So, what have you got for me?”
“Hexagon,” Bob said, scowling a little. “He’s a B list magic user from over on the West Coast, and apparently he wasn’t doing so hot over there. From what I heard, some rookie villain took over his operation and chased him out of town. About six months ago, he decided to start over again in New York and immediately stared hiring some local muscle. However, he hasn’t actually pulled anything until now.”
“Lucky me,” I said with a scowl, annoyed that a loser like him had gotten the best of me. If I wasn’t careful, my reputation would really take a hit from that.
“What’s your interest in him?” Bob asked me curiously.
I took a drink of my beer, then told him the same thing I’d told Chickenhawk. “I was casing the place for a robbery when he showed up and took what I was after before I could grab it. Needless to say, I’m not happy about that.”
Of course, the truth was that I’d just been there to look at the art, the same as everyone else, not that anyone would believe me. But in situations like this, I found that a believable lie is usually better than a difficult to believe truth. Besides, it was also better for my reputation.
“I’d imagine not,” Bob responded. “So, what are you gonna do?”
“I’m going to steal it right back,” I answered with a grin. “I mean, how dare he steal something before I could? If I let that go unchallenged, that sets a bad precedence.” Of course, that wasn’t my only motivation for going after Hexagon.
Then my thoughts turned to Alicia, the poor kid who’d been snatched just because she tried helping me. I frowned at the memory, feeling an uncharacteristic stirring of guilt. During my life, there had been very few people who’d gone out of their way to help me out, but she had…and now she was paying because of it.
I silently told myself that it wasn’t my fault and she wasn’t my responsibility, but it didn’t do any good. I might be a super villain…and a demonic looking mutant…but underneath it all, I guessed I was still human. Of course, I didn’t dare let anyone else know about that. That would totally ruin my reputation. Once a villain got a reputation for going soft, people started to resist, and then it became work work work, all the time.
Just then, the jukebox began playing a new song, Barbie Girl from the band Aqua. ‘I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie world. Life in plastic…it’s fantastic…’ It was a catchy tune and I swished my tail back and forth in time to the music, though I bit back the urge to sing along with it. If I got caught doing that in a place like this, my reputation would never recover.
Someone at the other end of the bar called out, “Who the fuck selected this song?” I smirked but didn’t fess up.
Someone else responded, “How the hell did this song even get in there?” There was a lot of grumbling about my choice of music, but they only had to put up with it for one song. That just made me think that the next time I came in, I was going to have to bring a whole roll of quarters, just to see how much I could monopolize the jukebox.
“Funny how this kind of music only comes on when you’re here,” Bob commented wryly.
“Quite a coincidence,” I agreed.
Bob slid a folder across the table to me, and when I flipped through it, I saw that it contained everything he knew about Hexagon. There wasn’t a whole lot of information present, but there was more than enough. Bob had included an address.
“This isn’t Hexagon’s usual kind of job,” Bob told me while I was looking through the material he’d provided. “He’s usually more into trying to build his own empire, not robbery. From what I can tell, he’s never gone after art before either.”
“So this is definitely out of character,” I commented thoughtfully. “Either he’s decided to try a different MO to go with the new locale, or there’s something else going on.”
Bob nodded at that, then gave me a curious look. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately, at least until now. Keeping a low profile?”
“Something like that,” I answered with a shrug. “That last big job I did got a lot of attention so I’ve been keeping my head down for a bit.”
Of course, that might have been why I’d started my little vacation, but not why it had lasted so long. That last job had had been a real pain in the ass, with my client screwing me over so I nearly got caught by the Empire City Guard, but at least it had been profitable. Afterwards, I just hadn’t felt motivated to find another job, especially when my second career was just starting to take off. Oddly enough, I’d found more satisfaction in showing off my own paintings than I had in stealing the works of others…even the masterpieces. At least most of the time.
“Thanks for the info,” I told Bob, downing the rest of my beer and then getting up to leave. He’d given me some useful bits of information, and it helped put some of the other things I’d found into perspective.
When I returned home, I pulled up the list of stolen paintings as well as my notes. I’d looked them over and tried to figure out what Hexagon had really been after, and I’d come up with a couple suspects. After talking with Bob, I was able to narrow them down further, throwing out the painting from the Atomic Fist, which had previously been at the top of my list.
“This one,” I said, realizing which painting Hexagon must really have been after. “It has to be.”
The painting in question wasn’t especially impressive, being a self-portrait of the artist that showed a decent amount of skill, though not enough to really stand out. However, as with the painting from the Atomic Fist, it was the artist rather than the painting that was truly of interest. Alistaire Duccard had been an occultist as well as an artist, and after my research, I discovered that he’d actually formed his own cult. Apparently, he was also very lucky…or more accurately, his enemies were extremely unlucky. Nearly everyone who crossed him had a habit of dying in strange accidents, until he himself eventually suffered such an accident.
A magic user like Hexagon would definitely be interested in someone like Alistaire Duccard, or at least I assumed he would be. Duccard had used mysticism to create his own cult, and it sounded like that was exactly the kind of thing that Hexagon wanted to do. Of course, I still didn’t know why Hexagon wanted this particular painting, but maybe he was just a big fan. After all, I’ve stolen more than a few paintings for no reason other than because I’d liked them.
I sat there for a minute, feeling rather smug and wondering if this was what the cops felt like when they’d solved a case. But then, I remembered that I might know what Hexagon really wanted to steal, but I didn’t know why. And it didn’t really matter either. I wasn’t concerned about why he’d stolen the painting, only in getting my paintings back. And Alicia. I might be a villain, but there was no way that I was going to let that asshole hurt a kid if I could help it.
I knew where Hexagon had been hanging his hat, so that only left the question as to what I’d do with that knowledge. If I’d been a normal person, I might give this information to the police or even some costumed hero to go take care of the rescue, but I wasn’t a normal person. I was a brilliant and fabulously talented thief. Besides, there was no way my pride would let me ever go to one of those clowns for help. That meant, it was entirely up to me.
Normally, I liked to take my time when preparing for a heist of this nature, researching the location, the security, the item I was stealing, and of course, planning both my entry and exit…as well as determining whether or not I’d just sneak in and out without anyone knowing or if I needed to make a flashy statement of some sort. Unfortunately, this time I didn’t have the luxury of being able to do all that. The paintings might be able to wait, but I seriously doubted Alicia could. As it was, the longer I waited, the less likely she’d be to walk out of there in one piece.
I carefully considered all my options with the limited information I had available and decided that rescuing hostages really wasn’t my thing. After this, I was going to stick to stealing things like a proper thief should. As it was, if I knew how to find Chickenhawk, I would have been pretty tempted to just ‘accidentally’ let slip where Hexagon was hiding out, then let him take care of the rest. However, that girl might not have the time for me to play those kind of games any more than she did for me to plan a proper heist. Whether I liked it or not, I was the one who had to do this, and I had to do it that night.
With that, I casually tossed a throwing spike at the dart board that hung from my wall. It had a picture of Chickenhawk taped to it, artistically customized by me using a sharpie to give him a mustache and buck teeth. I caught him right in the nose, which brought a smile to my face.
“All right Imp,” I said as I stood back up and stretched. “Playing hero for one night should be an interesting change of pace, if nothing else. Now time to get to work.”
Once it was dark, I ‘borrowed’ a car and drove it to my destination, parking it nearby so it would be easy to get to but not too noticeable. I definitely would have preferred riding my bike since it was not only more comfortable for me, but also would have made for a faster getaway, but it wasn’t very practical for what I had planned. I needed room to carry a few paintings, not to mention a girl in unknown condition.
Hexagon’s home was actually a small mansion in a fairly ritzy area, which was much better than the old warehouse or old subway tunnel that I might have expected from someone like him. Of course, the house didn’t actually belong to him. According to Bob, Hexagon was merely borrowing the property from the real owner, though whether Hexagon was paying rent or using some kind of coercion, I had no idea. Nor did I really care.
From what I could see of the visible security, there was a fifteen foot wall that completely surrounded the ten acre property, with razorwire strung across the entire thing. There was an ornate iron gate at the only entrance, which was being guarded by a guy with scratches across his face, a reminder from our little tangle at the museum. I heard dogs from inside, which meant that they either had guards with K9 units, or more likely, had some roaming dogs that were trained to attack any intruders. All in all, the visible security looked like a joke. It wasn’t the physical security that concerned me, but the magical. As a magic user, Hexagon was sure to have some kind of magical protection as well.
“I hate dealing with magic,” I muttered, sticking my tongue out at the house. It was often unpredictable, invisible to someone like me, and therefore difficult to work around. There was a good reason I preferred to leave that kind of thing to specialists like B*Witch. “Too bad I don’t have much choice.”
Of course, I might not know much about magic, but I was a brilliantly talented thief and had more than a few tricks up my sleeve. With that in mind, I went to work, activating my stealth ability and carefully making my way around the wall. I found a nice spot that looked promising, then held up my little magic detecting bauble. It glowed faintly, much to my annoyance. I moved further down the wall and checked again. I found several places where my bauble glowed, so I avoided those sections of the wall and climbed one that was safe.
Once I was over the wall, I quickly made my way to the house, only to find that the windows on the lower level made my bauble glow a little as well. However, that was no problem as I simply climbed the wall to the second floor, used one of my one-shot devises to bypass the normal security alarm, then let myself inside. As soon as I was in, I quietly hummed the theme music from Mission Impossible and crept down the hall, trying to find where Hexagon had stashed the paintings…and the girl.
While I was searching room to room, mostly ducking into the rooms just to avoid being seen, I stumbled across an office with a large safe. The sight of it was enough to make me grin in anticipation. This wasn’t why I’d come here, but I couldn’t resist the allure. It was like Christmas morning, with a nicely wrapped present just begging to be opened.
“But first,” I mused, holding up my magic detecting bauble to confirm there was no magic. So far, I hadn’t seen any signs of magic inside the house, but if Hexagon was going to use magic to protect anything, I would have thought it would be a safe. “Amateur.”
I had several methods I could use to open the safe, the most simple and straight forward being to just use my PK claws to cut through the side. However, that would have been a little too noticeable if someone happened to come into the room…and it lacked any finesse. And of course, I could simply have opened it the old fashioned way, the way I’d originally been taught, but that would have taken a little more time than I had to spare. Because of that, I decided to compromise in my method.
I placed my hand against the front of the safe and extended my PK aura, gently pushing against the tumblers inside ever so faintly, just enough so that if I concentrated, I could feel the subtle pressure. It had taken me years of practice to develop the skill and fine control for this trick, but it had been well worth it. With just a little gentle coaxing from my PK aura, the tumblers shifted position and the safe popped open with no outward signs that I’d done anything at all.
“Now, let’s see what Santa brought me,” I mused, looking through the contents.
There were a couple stacks of cash inside, as well as an old book. I ran the magic detecting bauble over the book and it didn’t detect anything, so I risked opening the thing. It looked like it was just an old diary, but then I noticed the name on the inside cover. Alistaire Duccard. I slipped the diary into my backpack, along with all the cash.
I was just closing up the safer so I could continue my search when an armed man came into the room. I vaguely recognized him from the museum, which meant that I also felt an immediate dislike of him.
“What the…?” he started, immediately reaching for his gun.
I jumped at him without hesitation, grabbing his arm and digging my long sharp nails into the skin to distract him from the gun. He started to yell, but I put a hand across his mouth and kneed him in the balls. A moment later, I smashed his head into the safe…several times, until he collapsed to the ground.
“Oh, did the poor baby fall down and go boom?” I mocked him.
After rolling the man over and verifying that he was indeed out of it, wondered what to do with him. Since he was pretty out of it, I didn’t think that he was likely to cause me any trouble in the immediate future, but still… Then I looked over at the desk in the corner and grinned, suddenly having an idea.
In mere seconds, I’d snatched a sharpie from the top of the desk and had gone to work on my defeated opponent. I drew a little mustache onto his face, along with a pair of glasses, before I followed it up by putting a big L on his forehead. I might have done more, but I was short on time.
“No excuse not to stop and smell the roses,” I reminded myself with a smirk.
A few minutes later, I found all the paintings in one of the other rooms, stacked up in a haphazard pile, much to my horror. I stared at the poorly treated paintings, feeling angry and even more disgusted by those idiotic amateurs than before. In spite of all the trouble they’d gone through to grab those paintings, they were treating them with absolutely no respect or care at all. I would have thought that even if they hadn’t cared about the artistic value of those pieces, that at least they would have cared about the monetary.
“The heathens,” I spat out in contempt, quickly looking over the paintings and positioning them on their sides so that at least they’d be less likely to be damaged. I was relieved to see only one of the paintings had been damaged, and it had been one of the abstract pieces that I’d thought was overhyped trash. Still, even that deserved better treatment than this. “At least Waking at Dawn is still intact.”
Once I’d looked over all the paintings, I saw that one of them was still missing...the self-portrait from Alistaire Duccard. Between that and the diary I’d found, this just confirmed my theory as to what they’d really been after. Of course, I still didn’t know why, but that information might very well be in the diary. It was just too bad that I didn’t have time to look through it at the moment, because even though I’d found the paintings, I still needed to grab the girl.
For a brief moment, I was tempted to just grab Waking at Dawn and go, maybe taking anything else I could carry as well. However, I couldn’t just leave the kid behind, especially not after coming here for her in the first place. I gave Waking at Dawn a gentle caress along the frame while I braced myself to leave it where it was…at least for the moment.
While I continued looking through the house, I saw a few opportunities to amuse myself with such things as plastic wrap on the toilet or pouring some liquid laxative into the coffee pot, but unfortunately, I didn’t have time to play around. I let out a faint sigh as I turned my back on each opportunity, putting as much focus as I could on the task at hand. Then as I made my way to the basement, I heard Hexagon’s voice coming from down below. I didn’t know if Alicia was down there, but it was definitely worth a closer look.
A single glance over the basement was enough to reveal its intended purpose…and to make me thirsty. The surface of each wall was covered with racks of wine, and there were several additional racks set up around the room as well. I enjoyed a nice glass of merlot in the evening, but I couldn’t imagine needing such a large collection of wine. Then again, there were people who couldn’t understand my appreciation for fine art either, so I probably shouldn’t judge. After all, it wasn’t my place to point out that someone had a drinking problem.
There was a large open space in the middle of the basement, which looked like it had previously held a few comfortable chairs, though the chairs had been pushed off to the side. Instead, that space now had a hexagon painted onto the expensive tiles, with what looked like red paint. Each side of the hexagon also had symbols painted beside it, though I didn’t know what these symbols meant. What I did know was that Alicia was sitting in the middle of the hexagon, her hands and feet tied together, with a gag in her mouth and a blindfold over her eyes.
Hexagon stood a short distance from the panted hexagon, dressed in the black costume with the gold metal pendant, though the red cloak that he’d previously worn was absent. Without the cloak to obscure his body and features, he looked even less intimidating than before. In fact, if I’d seen him on the streets, I probably just would have assumed he was an accountant or something.
“Finally,” Hexagon exclaimed, glancing to the man standing beside him. That man was tall and muscular, though not one I recognized from the museum. “In just a few more minutes, I’ll finally have the power I need to make my reputation…”
“It’s been a long time coming, Miles,” the muscular man told him.
“It’s Hexagon,” he snapped in response. “When I’m in costume, it’s Hexagon.”
“You’re only half in costume,” the muscular man pointed out with a faint chuckle.
“Scott,” Hexagon said, looking to the man beside him. “Do you know how humiliating it is…having everything I worked for stolen from me…by my own apprentice?”
“The kid was a natural,” the muscular man…Scott responded, shaking his head.
Hexagon snarled, then looked to a corner where the self-portrait of Alistaire Duccard was sitting, leaning up against a wine rack. “My grandfather understood true power…how to gather followers and inspire them to complete loyalty… I feared that I’d never match his power, until I found his journal. Unfortunately, it didn’t give me the spell he used to summon the demon that killed his enemies for him, but it did tell me where he’d hidden it.”
“The back of the painting,” Scott agreed. “Too bad your family sold the thing after he’d died.”
“That was…unfortunate,” Hexagon agreed. “But little matter. I have the painting now…and the spell. I’ve completed most of the ritual, and I’ve marked my chosen sacrifice… The demon should appreciate being given a sacrifice with power…”
I looked at Alicia again, noticing that some symbols had been painted on her forehead and arms. I scowled at that, then glared at Hexagon, who was pulling out an ornate looking knife. This definitely wasn’t good.
“Once I finish the sacrifice,” Hexagon told Scott, “the demon will be at my service for one year…killing any who oppose me…including that traitorous student.”
As Hexagon approached Alicia, I knew that I had to do something. But what? Then I had an idea and called out, “You have summoned me” I tried to keep my voice as low and deep as I could. Hexagon and Scott both jumped in surprise, obviously not expecting a reaction until after they’d finished the sacrifice. “I shall take the girl myself…and then we’ll talk.”
“Yes, oh powerful demon,” Hexagon said, lowering the knife and looking around, not seeing me as I was crouched down by the doorway, still using my powers to hide.
“I thought you said this demon was a guy,” Scott pointed out, looking around with a suspicious express. “That sounds like a chick…”
“You’re right,” Hexagon exclaimed, now looking around with a suspicious expression as well. “In fact…it sounds like that demon girl from the museum…”
“Damn,” I muttered to myself, then called out, “I am the great and powerful Oz. Do not look at the Imp behind the curtain.” And with that, I threw several of my small smoke bombs at Hexagon and Scott, blinding them both with the burst of smoke while I jumped into action, dropping my stealth effect at the same time since it wasn’t very useful while I was moving.
I was at Alicia’s side in a moment, tearing off her blindfold and then creating a PK claw so I could cut through the ropes holding her hands and feet together. She stared at me in surprise, and the moment her hands were free, she began pulling off her gag.
“The demon girl,” Hexagon exclaimed, glaring at me furiously now that the smoke had cleared.
I just pointed at him and responded, “The stupid amateur…”
“Ah think we should get outa here,” Alicia said, scrambling to her feet and quickly getting out of the painted hexagon.
Hexagon fired a blast of red energy at me but I dove to the side, avoiding the attack. However, the wine rack behind me took the hit and suddenly there was shattered glass and wine spilling all over the floor.
“Alcohol abuse,” I cried out in mock offense. “That is such an imp-polite way of treating your guests.” Then I gave him a raspberry and added, “Neener neener neener.”
“Get her,” Hexagon yelled at Scott.
Scott pulled out a large handgun, so I threw one of my throwing spikes at him and caught him in the chest. He yelled out but didn’t drop the gun. He fired a shot, which hit the wall behind me, so I dove between him and Hexagon, making both of them hesitate before attacking since they could end up hitting each other.
“Um…Miss Imp,” Alicia called out, gesturing to the basement entrance, where two more of the armed goods were coming in. “Ah think we’ve got company…”
“Imp-pressive response time,” I responded with a smirk to hide my faint nervousness. With all these guns, the chance of someone getting hurt was really increasing by the second. I just hoped it wasn’t me.
“I need that girl,” Hexagon announced to his men, pointing to Alicia. “Don’t hurt her…but you’re welcome to kill this bitch.” That time he was pointing at me.
Hexagon fired another blast of energy at me, so I dove to the side, then ran over and grabbed the painting. Though I hated using a painting like this on general principal, I thought it might be the best way for me and the girl to get out of this.
“I don’t think you want to risk this thing,” I said, waving the painting in front of me like a shield. “I mean, with the whole magic ritual on it and all…”
Then I glanced back to Alicia, who was dealing with the two men who’d joined the party late. Since Hexagon wanted her unharmed, they’d lowered their guns and were trying to grab her with their hands. She was still in danger, but at least they weren’t trying to kill her…yet.
“Ito Sensei would flunk mah ass if ah let y’all beat me,” Alicia exclaimed, glaring at one of her opponents who suddenly looked dizzy and staggered. She took advantage of that by punching him several times, then kicking at the other man, much to my amusement.
Hexagon began casting another spell, and a glowing hexagon began appearing on the floor beneath Alicia. I tried calling out a warning, but it was too late. He’d caught her again. Then he tried doing the same thing to me, though I jumped out of the way fast enough to avoid it.
“Hey Hexagoner,” I called out, “You don’t want me to damage this, do you?” Of course, I’d rather hurt myself than a piece of beautiful art, but I might make an exception for this mediocre thing.
“My name is Hexagon,” the magic user exclaimed in obvious annoyance. “Or more appropriately, Master Hexagon.”
“You look more like a square to me,” I teased, holding the painting in front of me again as Scott was trying to get a clear shot. Then I ran towards Scott, keeping the painting between us until I reached him, then I shifted to the side, ducked down low, and used my tail to yank his feet right out from beneath him. Without a word, I kicked the gun from his hand then kicked him again in the face. “That’s gotta hurt…”
I looked over to Alicia, who was still in the glowing hexagon, though she was glaring at one of the men with a look of intense concentration. He staggered back and forth, then to my surprise, he actually collapsed to the floor, actually passing out.
“Ah did it,” she exclaimed, looking almost as if she was ready to bounce with excitement before she turned her attention to the other man.
Alicia was trapped in the glowing hexagon, but that didn’t seem to prevent the other man from punching at her. She was hit several times and was desperately trying to defend herself, which seemed to keep her too distracted to use her powers to take him down the way she had his companion.
Suddenly, I noticed the ground beneath me glowing again, and I attempted to jump out of the way, but this time Hexagon was creating far too large of a trap for me to escape in time. I sudden ran into an invisible wall, then changed direction and ran over to another invisible wall. He’d caught me again, in a cage that was much larger than the one at the museum.
“I can’t afford to waste so much essence,” Hexagon stated with a pissed off look. “But I can’t afford to let you escape either, with the girl or the ritual.”
I looked around at the glowing hexagon I was caught in, feeling annoyed and frustrated. This was why I hated direct confrontations. It was so much easier to just sneak it and out, then gloat about it afterwards.
“And I would have gotten away with it too,” I responded with a smirk. “If it wasn’t for you meddling kids…”
“Do you think you can make some kind of deal with this demon?” Scott asked Hexagon.
Hexagon stared at me for a moment before shaking his head. “No, she’s not a real demon. She’s just a pretender…”
“Finally,” I responded cheerfully, reaching into one of the pouches on my belt. “Someone who doesn’t try throwing holy water on me.”
“This one’s a bit of a smartass,” Scott told Hexagon, who nodded faintly.
“Better than being a dumbass,” I responded smugly.
I clutched the contents from my belt pouch firmly in hand while I looked over the glowing hexagon on the floor. I didn’t really know much about magic, but I had worked with specialists before…and I’d taken advantage of the opportunity to ask them a few questions. Specifically, I’d asked about how to get past magical wards and security. And while I’d been told that most of the time it would take a skilled magic user to bypass those kinds of things, I’d also been told that many types of magic were vulnerable to iron and could be disrupted by exposure to it.
With that, I threw a handful of iron shavings at the invisible wall, which immediately began to throw sparks all over the place. I braced myself and jumped through the sparking area, feeling a slight resistance though not enough to stop me.
“How…?” Hexagon blurted out in surprise. He went to fire another blast of magical energy at me, but I held up the painting to use it like a shield again, which made him hesitate.
Scott charged at me, so I dropped the painting and scratched at him with my nails. My PK claws would have done a lot more damage, but I wasn’t trying to kill him. Instead, I used my power to make myself slippery and hard to grip, then proceeded to take turns hitting him and then dodging to the side.
“Too slow,” I called out cheerfully, jumping at Hexagon and punching him in the face. Then I kicked him in the balls before slamming him face first into the floor. “So long Hexagoner. It’s been fun.”
I ran towards Alicia and the man she was fighting, using the rest of my iron shavings to weaken her cage so I could knock her out of it. Then while I kicked her opponent, she glared at him with a look of concentration, which kept him from fighting back as I kicked him a few more times, until he stopped moving.
“Thanks,” Alicia told me, looking like she was barely able to stay standing. “But ah would have had him in just a few seconds…” However, there was definitely a note of doubt in her voice.
“Sure, kid,” I responded, grabbing the painting. “Let’s get out of here…”
“I need that girl,” Hexagon snarled at Scott as he got back to his feet. “I’ve already promised her to the demon, so if I tried giving him anyone else…it would break the deal. That thing killed my grandfather because he broke the terms of their agreement, so I MUST have her… If I don’t sacrifice her…he’ll come after me instead.”
“Too bad,” I called back to Hexagon, sticking my tongue out at him before leaving the basement with Alicia. “So sad.”
We ran upstairs, and I was thinking about how I could get back to where I’d left Waking at Dawn. However, several more guards were coming and they were armed. I let out a profanity, realizing that I could probably get past them and retrieve my painting, but I’d have to leave Alicia behind to do it.
“Damn, damn, and double damn,” I said in frustration.
For a brief moment, I was caught in indecision, knowing that I could only leave with Alicia or the painting, not both. Then I let out another curse, grabbed Alicia’s hand and raced for a side window. I opened the window and helped her climb out, then looked back for a long second, saying a silent goodbye to my favorite painting before I climbed out as well.
One guard rushed towards us, pausing to begin shooting. Either he was a trigger-happy idiot or he didn’t know Hexagon wanted Alicia alive, though I quickly realized it was probably both. Alicia screamed and grabbed her arm, so I turned and flung one of my spikes at the guard, boosting the force with my PK aura. The spike hit him in the shoulder and went clean through him, knocking him back and making him drop the gun.
“Asshole,” I snarled, glad that Alicia was still on her feet because I couldn’t just pick her up and fight my way out of here with her slung over my shoulder.
“Damn, that hurts,” Alicia cried out in obvious pain, holding her arm. “Ah swear…If I get mah hands on that asshole…he’s gator bait.”
“No time,” I told her, realizing that I couldn’t get her over the wall with her injured and more guards coming. “It looks like we need to leave through the front door.”
I ran to the front gate with Alicia following behind. Fortunately, there was only one guard there, and I hit him with one of my throwing spikes before he realized what I was doing. A few seconds later, I had him disarmed and bounced his face off the wall a few times.
The wrought iron gate was closed and we didn’t have time for me to open it. However, that wasn’t an issue as I formed my PK claws and sliced through the metal bars, quickly creating an opening large enough for us to leave through.
“Well, ain’t that somethin,” Alicia gasped, looking quite impressed, though she was still holding her arm and wincing in pain.
“This is NOT how I like to leave a robbery,” I muttered as we hurried to where I’d left the ‘borrowed’ car. “Nearly empty-handed and being shot at.”
“Ah’m just happy to get outta there alive,” Alicia pointed out, climbing into the car and letting out a long sigh of relief. “And thanks. Ah woulda been dead…”
“No big deal,” I responded with a forced smile. “I was only there to steal back a painting…” I didn’t mention the fact that I’d been forced to leave that particular painting behind anyway. “Just don’t tell anyone I rescued you. I mean, that would totally ruin my reputation.”
As I drove off, hitting the gas as much as I dared, I glanced to Alicia and was relieved to see that her injury wasn’t too bad. Still, she’d need to get that looked at, and she’d need a place to lay low for awhile since Hexagon was obviously going to come looking for her.
I momentarily considered dropping her off at the hospital and letting the cops watch her, but then snorted at the very thought. I wouldn’t trust the cops to protect a baby’s candy, so I sure as hell wouldn’t count on them to protect the girl from a magic user like Hexagon.
Then my thoughts turned to Waking at Dawn and all the other paintings that I’d been forced to leave behind. I almost felt ill as I thought about the poor way they were being treated, and I certainly didn’t trust Hexagon and his idiot soldiers to not damage them. For all I knew, Hexagon would destroy them all just out of spite.
If the situation was different, I might have arranged a proper heist, or even have gone back and snuck the paintings out one at a time. However, I had to get Alicia to safety and didn’t want to leave those paintings with Hexagon for even a minute more than I had to. Because of that, I could only think of one solution. I absolutely hated having to do this since it went against my professional principles, but I didn’t have any better options.
With that, I picked up my cell phone and hesitated a moment before dialing. “Hello,” I told the 911 operator. “I’m a concerned citizen and I know where you can find some stolen paintings…”
New York, Tuesday April 10th, 2007
I’ve always been fond of mornings, the calm and quiet period where the world was waking up and most people were still too sleepy to be the obnoxious assholes they were the rest of the day. For me, mornings usually meant that I’d either returned home safely from being out all night on a job, or that I’d had the night off, both of which were good things. At the moment, I was enjoying my morning by sitting around in my underwear, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops, and watching TV.
The TV was on a local news channel, which was showing footage of a couple of teenage girls who suddenly caught the media’s attention, which normally wouldn’t have interested me in the least. However, these girls had pointed ears, solid black skin, and silvery white hair, so they definitely weren’t the typical blonde haired bimbos I usually saw on TV. I was amazed, and admittedly, a little jealous over the fact that the reporter was going on about these Drow being the latest thing. From my personal experience, such unusual looking women were rarely called ‘exotic beauties’ and were more frequently referred to as ‘freaks’.
“Lucky them,” I said with a sigh, using my tail to reach over and pick up the remote. Once I had the remote in hand, I changed the channel to something a little more distracting…like cartoons. “Much better.”
Still, even as I ate my sugary breakfast cereal and watched Jerry lead Tom on a wild chase, my mood was still a little shaken. For most of my life, I’ve had to be careful about going out in public, spending most of my time laying low and avoiding attention. This meant I’ve spent countless hours indoors, watching a TV and rotting my brain, or as I preferred to think of it, doing pop culture research. But those Drow girls didn’t seem to have that problem at all, so I wasn’t sure whether I should resent them for their good fortune or be happy that things were changing.
Just then, I heard a noise from my bedroom, reminding me that I had a guest over…as if waking up on the couch hadn’t been reminder enough. After I’d rescued Alicia last night, I’d brought her home, not knowing anywhere else I could take her. I’d bandaged her arm, which had only been nicked by a bullet so wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared, and then I put her up for the night in my room.
“I really need a secret lair,” I said, feeling worried that I’d given away too much of my other identity. I was pretty sure that she had no idea where I’d brought her, and while she was out I’d hidden all of my mail, as well as anything else that might have my address or the name Candice Kade on it. I’d done about all I could to protect my dual identity, though I was a little worried it wouldn’t be enough. “But it’s not like I could have just dumped her on the side of the road.”
A minute later, Alicia came out of my room, dressed in her dirty clothes but with a bandage wrapped around her arm where the bullet had grazed her. I was still sitting there in my panties and ratty old t-shirt, not having bothered to get dressed yet. When I was younger, I’d been extremely self-conscious about my oddities…my tail, horns, and the small black scales which were quite noticeable on my shoulders and lower back. However, I refused to be ashamed of what I was in my own home, which may have been why I hadn’t bothered getting dressed before now. A part of me was kind of hoping that she’d react in shock or disgust so I could wash my hands of this whole mess without having to feel guilty.
Alicia looked around with a wary expression, and when her eyes settled on me, there was a look of caution but not shock or disgust. Of course, she didn’t seem to have had any problems with me yesterday or at the museum either, but it wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve seen people have a delayed reaction. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to deal with that this time.
“Good mornin,” she greeted me politely, those two words clearly conveying her accent. “Thanks again for savin mah life. If it wasn’t for you, ah’d be toast.”
“No problem,” I responded, getting back to my feet. I held up my empty cereal bowl and gestured towards the kitchen. “Help yourself to breakfast.”
Alicia nodded at that and went to the kitchen. After a minute, she called out, “Where are yer grits at?”
“Grits?” I asked blankly.
“You know,” she responded. “Grits.” At my continued blank look she let out an exasperated sigh. “For breakfast?”
“You eat something called grit?” I asked in surprise. “It sounds disgusting…”
Alicia gave me an odd look and muttered something that sounded like “Yankees,” before asking, “What do y’all have to eat?”
I chuckled at that as I put my bowl into the sink and refilled my coffee mug. “Milk, cereal, coffee…and whatever you can find.”
Admittedly, Alicia wouldn’t find much in my kitchen since I wasn’t exactly big on cooking. Though I might be an incredibly talented…and modest woman…cooking wasn’t exactly one of my gifts. In fact, my microwave got more use than my oven and stove combined. Alicia gave me a sour look, then began digging through my fridge and cupboards. A short time later, she’d mixed up a batch of scrambled eggs with cheese and a few things I hadn’t even realized I had.
“It looks like you know how to cook,” I commented with some amusement.
“Of course ah can,” Alicia responded rather proudly. “Ah’m from the South.”
While she ate, I went and changed, getting dressed in some comfortable civilian clothes. Of course, I suspected that I’d have to change into my working outfit later on, but for now this would do. By the time I came back out, Alicia had finished eating and was actually washing dishes. I was a little surprised at that, but I certainly wasn’t about to complain.
Once Alicia was finished, she gave me a cautious look, then asked, “When can ah go home? Mah folks must be worried sick about me…”
“You can leave anytime you want,” I told her with a shrug. “In fact, if you want, I’ll drop you off anywhere you want to go. Well, anywhere but the police station.” I paused to grin, my tail waving back and forth. “I’m afraid they just don’t respect my life choices.”
“Stealing stuff is a life choice?” she asked skeptically.
“Yep,” I agreed cheerfully. Then I stared at her for a moment and frowned, realizing that she was putting up a pretty good face but she was still just a scared kid. “Look, you can go home anytime you want, but you are in danger. Hexagoner wants you, and I don’t know whether or not he knows where you live…or if he can track you down. What I do know is that I’m pretty damn good at flying under the radar, and I’m offering you a place to lay low for awhile.”
Alicia hesitated a moment, then said, “Ah’ll be safe once ah’m back at school…but…maybe for just a day or two.” Then she paused again, looking uncertain before hopefully asking, “Can ah at least call and let mah folks know ah’m all right?”
I nodded at that and picked up my cell phone, made by a devisor who specialized in communication security. His phones were supposedly impossible to hack or trace, which made them quite popular among people in my line of work. I handed the phone to Alicia, then made sure to listen in as she called her parents, just in case she tried telling them where I was. I might have lost my mind enough to rescue her, but I didn’t avoid capture by being careless.
“Ah’m fine Mama… Really,” Alicia said on the phone. “Ah’m with the lady who rescued me… No Mama, that jerk is still after me, so ah’m keeping mah head down… As Daddy says, if ye’ve got a gator chasin ya on the ground, ye’d best stay up in the tree.”
The girl talked on the phone for half an hour, assuring her parents over and over that she was fine and could take care of herself. I smirked faintly as I listened in, wondering just how comforted they’d be if they knew she was staying with a wanted criminal. I noticed that she hadn’t said a thing about who it was who’d rescued her, nor about what I did for a living. Obviously, she didn’t think that they’d find it very comforting either.
After Alicia was done with the phone, she began to explore my condo, probably out of a mixture of boredom and curiosity. I just sat back and played on my computer, doing a little more research on Hexagon and Alistaire Duccard. Now that I knew the two of them were related, that made it pretty easy to track down Hexagon’s real identity, not that it really changed anything. Whether I called him Miles Ragland or Hexagon, he was still going to come after Alicia. The painting I’d taken might help him become more powerful, but he seemed pretty sure that without her, he’d end up dead. That little fact just made keeping her out of his hands all the more satisfying.
“Ya’ll sure have a lot of art,” Alicia finally announced. I looked up and saw that she was looking at the Monet. “This one looks like it should be in a museum…”
I just smirked at that since that was exactly where I’d found it. And once I got tired of it, there was a good chance that it might end up back in the museum. Of course, I’d have to replace it first, and the replacement might very well come from the same museum. After all, I did have my eyes on this beautiful little piece from Renoir
“That one is from Monet,” I said, standing up and smiling as I went over to where she was standing. I admired the painting in silence for several seconds, then began telling her a little about it as well as about the artist. “Oscar-Claude Monet was one of the founders of the impressionist movement, and he’s probably best known for all his landscapes…”
When I was finished talking about Monet, Alicia stared at the painting for a moment, then asked, “What was that impressionist thing ya said he invented?”
I just smiled at that, then began to describe the impressionist art movement and what it meant. At first, Alicia gave me a blank look, that was probably similar to what I’d given her when she was talking about that gritty breakfast stuff, so I tried to change my description a little. I wasn’t sure, but I thought she got the basic idea.
“I have an idea,” I suddenly announced, giving her my best evil grin, which was pretty damn good. After all, I’ve practiced it professionally for three decades. “Now come child…come to my evil sanctum…”
Alicia gave me a wary look, but followed me to the spare bedroom, the one that I’d converted into my studio. There were several painting easels set up, a shelf containing my various paints and brushes, and there were some finished and half-finished paintings scattered about the room. The entire floor was covered with canvas to prevent drippings that would stain and ruin the carper.
“Instead of talking about other people’s art,” I told Alicia with a grin. “I thought you’d prefer the chance to try a little of your own.”
“But ah don’t know how to do that kind of paintin,” Alicia protested, looking just a bit nervous.
“That’s okay,” I responded wryly. “I know professionals who don’t really know how to paint either. The best way to learn is to do.”
I set a couple of blank canvases onto easels, then got some paint and brushes ready. In just a few minutes, Alicia was painting on her canvas, making a mess more than anything, but she was getting into it which was the first step. While Alicia played around, I went to work on my own canvas, noticing that she kept stopping to watch me.
“There are all sorts of brush strokes and tricks you can use to get the effect you want,” I explained, demonstrating a few of them for her. “Just play around and see what works for you.”
“This is kinda fun,” Alicia announced after awhile, giving me a curious look. “Are ya really a villain? Ah mean, ya don’t act like one…”
“My union card says so,” I responded cheerfully, giving her a grin. “But what do you expect a villain to act like?”
“Ah don’t know,” she answered a little awkwardly. “Ah guess…ah figured a villain would be mean…”
I just chuckled at that. “Only when I haven’t had my coffee.” Then I shook my head and mused, “Some of the best people I know are criminals…and some of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met call themselves heroes. I’ve never liked that term…super villain. I mean, it’s so broad sweeping and prejudicial.”
“Prejudicial?” Alicia asked with a confused look. “What’cha mean?”
I scowled for a moment, trying to think about how to phrase this. “It sets the assumption that you are a bad person…that you are evil. Now, I am a thief…and a very good one, but I certainly don’t think of myself as evil. Sure, I won’t hesitate to take something I want, but I don’t rob people at gunpoint, I’ve never taken hostages, and I usually try to avoid hurting anyone. But grouping every costumed criminal under the label of villain sort of assumes that there’s no difference between me and a mass murderer like Deathlist.”
“Ah guess ah can see how that would be annoying,” Alicia agreed, giving me a curious look.
“Not just annoying,” I responded with a shrug. “About ten…maybe twelve years ago, a so-called hero named the Crimson Kid was chasing after a guy called Monster Max, who was basically just a thug who liked smashing things. The Kid accidentally killed a bystander, then because he was afraid of the consequences, he went and killed a guy who’d witnessed the whole thing. After everything was over, the Kid accused Max of murdering them, and because Max was a villain…” I made air quotes with my fingers, “everyone bought it. The Kid got away with murder, and Max, who wasn’t really guilty of anything more than property damage…was executed.”
“Merde,” Alicia gasped, giving me a look of surprise. “And what happened to this Crimson Kid?”
I just gave the girl an evil grin, answering, “Max had a few friends who weren’t happy about how things went down. Let’s just say, no one has seen the Kid since.”
Alicia shuddered at that, then said, “Merde,” again. “Ah guess it ain’t a good idea to frame someone who’s got friends like that.”
I nodded, annoyed that the good mood from painting had been ruined. “Help me clean up the brushes,” I told Alicia, giving her another evil grin. “I’m going to need your help with a heist…”
“What?” Alicia exclaimed, giving me a look of shock. “Are ya out of yer damned mind? Ah’m not gonna help ya do something like that…”
The look on her face made me burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, I’m not really going to make you an accomplice to anything.” And though I didn’t say it, there was absolutely no way I was going to bring an amateur along for a job. That would just be stupid.
Once everything was cleaned up and put away, I scrounged around and found some clean clothes for Alicia to wear. My clothes didn’t exactly fit her well, but I had a few things that would work for the time being. Then I reached for my magic medallion, hesitating a moment before putting it on. I was concerned that I’d already revealed too much about my other life to her, but then I remembered that she’d already seen my other face at the museum. With a sigh, I activated the medallion and the illusion slipped into place.
“So much easier than the old way,” I mused with a smirk.
Before I had this medallion, going out in public without drawing a lot of attention had been quite a pain. I had to stuff my tail down my pant leg, wear a long coat that would help hide the bulge from my tail, wear a wide brimmed hat that concealed my horns and the scales on my forehead, and then I’d finish it off with a pair of oversized sunglasses. And then, even after all that, anyone who got a good look at me was still likely to notice something odd.
“Miss Imp,” Alicia asked me, giving me a wary look. “Where are we goin? Ah thought ah were supposed to lay low.”
“Call me Christine when I look like this,” I said with a grin, knowing that I must be confusing the poor girl with the way I kept changing what name she was supposed to use. “It wouldn’t do to have someone overhear you calling me the Imp in public, not when we’re trying to avoid attention. As for laying low, unless you stick out like sore thumb like yours truly usually does…one of the best places to hide is in the middle of a crowd. Unless Hexagon and his goobers can use magic to track you, you’ll be perfectly safe out there with me. And if they can track us with magic…well…staying in here won’t be much safer.”
“Well, ah didn’t much like the idea of hidin anyways,” Alicia announced with a grin. “But where are we goin?”
“Lunch,” I announced with a maniacal laugh, though a moment later, I let out a sigh and admitted, “In case you hadn’t noticed it, my cupboards are about as bare as a baby’s bottom. Now come on…I’ll introduce you to a real New York delicacy…pizza.”
“Y’all know, we do have pizza in Loosiana,” Alicia responded, giving me a look as though she was questioning my intelligence.
I just grinned in response and half dragged her to the door. “Maybe, but you don’t have real, authentic, New York style, thin crust pizza… Three out of four ninja turtles prefer it.”
--------------------
New York, Wednesday April 11th, 2007
I stood back and watched as Alicia cleaned dishes, feeling amused since my kitchen had seen more use in the last two days than it had in the previous month. Yesterday while we’d been out, Alicia had insisted we get some real food for my cupboards, in spite of the fact that she knew she wouldn’t be staying with me for long. Still, she’d made grits for breakfast this morning, and they weren’t nearly as bad as I’d imagined. Instead of gritty sand, which is what the name made me think of, they were a little more like Cream of Wheat.
“If ah’m still here for supper tonight,” Alicia called out cheerfully, “ah’ll make up some of mah daddy’s gumbo…” She paused at that, frowning in annoyance as she continued, “Ah don’t think ah can get any good bugs around here, but ah’m pretty sure ah can find some good shrimp…”
“Bugs?” I asked, suddenly having visions of her cooking up a cockroach stew. I shuddered at that, deciding that it would probably be a good night for delivery.
Alicia didn’t seem to hear me and just began looking through my cupboards, calling out, “Don’tcha have a gumbo pot?” When I gave her a blank look, she shook her head and muttered something that sounded like, “Yankees…”
I continued watching Alicia, who to my amazement, had been kidnapped by a magical nutjob with a geometry obsession, was being chased by said nutjob who wanted to use her for a human sacrifice, and was now hiding out with beautiful and talented moi…and she still somehow managed to be cheerful. As strange as it was, Alicia almost seemed to be treating this whole thing as some kind of grand adventure, or at least she was at the moment.
“I bet you’re looking forward to going home,” I commented, taking a throwing spike and tossing it across the room at the dart board. It caught Chickenhawk right in the cheek. “Damn,” I muttered. “I was aiming for the nostril…”
“Yeah,” Alicia admitted, giving me a bit of a grin. “But ah won’t be able to go home till summer…”
I nodded at that, remembering that she’d said she’d come to New York with her family for spring break. “Your family is staying here for that long?”
Alicia shrugged, “Naw. Mah folks are going back home soon, but ah’ve gotta go back ta school.” She hesitated a moment, then admitted, “Ah kinda go to a private school…”
“Really?” I asked, a little surprised since that kind of thing took money.
“Ever since mah daddy got some money, Mama’s been tryin to culture me,” Alicia explained with a roll of her eyes. “That’s why we came to New York for spring break instead of lettin me go home to Loosiana. If ah wasn’t here with y’all, ah’d be goin to some kinda Broadway play, so this is a lot more fun…”
I made a show of buffing my nails on my shirt and then blowing on them. “Well, I am an entertaining woman.”
“And modest too,” Alicia pointed out with a smirk.
I just grinned at that. “Thank you for noticing.”
After that, I went and turned on my stereo, filling my condo with the sweet sounds MMMBop…much to Alicia’s look of annoyance. “Don’tcha have anything better?” she asked me hopefully. “Maybe some zydeco?”
“Zydewhat?” I asked blankly.
Alicia played around with my radio dial and got annoyed when she couldn’t find what she was looking for. We ended up settling on some classic rock station, which was something we could both listen to as I put her back to work on her painting. Not only did it keep her too occupied to worry about the fact that Hexagon wanted to kill her, but it also kept her out of my hair while I did some research and checked with my contacts.
I confirmed that the police did raid Hexagon’s home and had recovered the paintings, all of them except the one I was holding onto. I couldn’t help but grinning at that, though I was a little disappointed at the same time. After all, it would have been nice to have been able to keep a souvenir…one other than this ugly picture of Alistaire Duccard. But then again, I could always snatch one of the paintings from the museum later on. Unfortunately, there was one more disappointment, though not one that surprised me. Hexagon had managed to get away.
“I never thought I’d be bothered by someone getting away from the cops,” I said with a sigh, silently cursing Hexagon for putting me in such an awkward position.
When I was done checking with several of my other contacts, I decided to call Bob, though I was a little hesitant to do that. Bob had a knack of knowing what was going on and who the players were, but he didn’t help for free. The price of his help was rarely simple cash and usually came in the form of a favor, sometimes one to be paid right away and sometimes an unnamed one to be called in sometime in the future.
“I need up an update on Hexagoner,” I immediately told Bob. “Somehow, I doubt the weasel is still hanging around his old crib…”
“Yeah, I heard about that raid,” Bob responded, his voice carrying a note of disapproval. “You the one who snitched on him to the cops?”
“Do you really think I’d do something like that?” I asked with a grin, though I tried to sound offended at the suggestion. “Unfortunately, now that they’ve recovered the paintings, it makes it a little more difficult for me to swipe them… But as annoying as that as, the greater complication is that Hexagon and I still have some unfinished business, and I have reason to believe he’s coming after me.”
“And you’re right about that,” Bob responded with a loud sigh. “He put word out yesterday that he’s looking to hire some muscle…powered muscle. He’s also been asking questions about you.”
“Oh joy,” I responded flatly.
“Tell ya what,” Bob told me. “Meet me at the bar in a few hours and I’ll have more for you…”
I hesitated a moment at that, glancing back in the direction of my workshop, where Alicia was still occupied. I didn’t want to leave her here alone while I went out so I said, “No can do. I’ll have a teddy bear with me.”
If Bob was surprised that I was bringing a kid with me, he didn’t indicate it. Instead, he merely said, “Fine. We can meet at that deli with the great pastrami sandwiches.”
“Gotcha,” I responded, knowing exactly which deli he was referring to. I’ve had to butter Bob up a few times before with food from the place. “And after this…I’ll owe you one.”
Once I was done with all my phone calls, I went back to my workshop and checked on my houseguest, who was still busy painting. “Not bad,” I told her, not wanting to discourage the girl.
“Thanks,” Alicia told me, gesturing to one of my finished pieces that was sitting off to the side. “But Ah’ll never be as good as you.”
I just shrugged at that. “That one isn’t really art,” I told her with a chuckle. “At least not mine. This is a forgery…a copy of someone else’s work. It’s a pretty damn good forgery, but there isn’t really anything of me in it. Not this one… This one is mine.” I gestured to another painting, one that I was particularly proud of. I was pretty sure that if I had another art show at the gallery, that one would be a hit. And even if it wasn’t…it deserved to be.
Alicia looked the painting over before saying, “That one’s pretty nice… Ah like it better than that other one…”
“Thank you,” I responded, not sure why I was pleased about being complimented from someone who knew absolutely nothing about art. Maybe it was because she didn’t know much about art. She didn’t know anything about style or technique, only if she liked it or not.
“Once you finish up here,” I told her with a grin, “we have an appointment to get to.” Then as I turned to leave, I gave her a gentle swat with my tail, which caught her by surprise and make her jump with an ‘eep’.
I went back to my room and got dressed in my working clothes, the black and red leather outfit that looked oh so sexy on me. Then I had to get ready to go out in public without causing a scene, which meant hiding my features. Since I didn’t want Bob to know about my other identity, or about my being able to hide my features with illusion, that meant I had to go out the old fashioned way.
I threw on a long trenchcoat which hid both my outfit and my tail, and then I put on the wide brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses. Of course, anyone who looked closely at my face would still see the small scales on my cheeks, but I had a lot of experience in avoiding that kind of scrutiny. Besides, this was New York, and most people would go out of their way to avoid paying that much attention to me.
If Alicia was surprised to see me dressed up and disguised like that instead of with illusion, she didn’t say anything about it. I was actually a little disappointed since I had a couple of great smartass comments lined up and ready, and now I wouldn’t be able to use them. Oh well, maybe later.
“Come on,” I told Alicia. “I’m gonna show you the New York subway. Trust me, you can’t get more authentic New York culture than that.”
An hour later, Alicia and I arrived at the deli where Bob was already waiting for us. He had a thick meaty sandwich in front of him, which meant he was in a good mood. I scowled slightly as I sat down, gesturing for Alicia to do the same. Bob gave her a quick glance before proceeding to ignore her completely.
“Get something to eat,” Bob told me. “You won’t find better pastrami within ten blocks.”
I nodded at that, though it wasn’t exactly comfortable to eat while dressed up like an extra from some old spy movie. Still, I kept everything on since I didn’t want to freak out the locals. Even the most jaded New Yorker tended to get nervous when they say a devil woman, though admittedly, their reactions did vary. Not only did I get the people quoting scriptures or calling the MCO on me, but occasionally, I even got people offering to sell me their souls in exchange for wealth or immortality. I chuckled faintly as I remembered the last time that had happened, and how I’d played along. I wonder how many lottery tickets that idiot bought before realizing he wasn’t going to win big like I’d promised.
“One pastrami for the kid,” I told the waitress before explaining to Alicia, “It’s the best thing on the menu.”
Alicia nodded at that, then asked, “What’s pastrami?” But once her sandwich arrived and she looked it over, she exclaimed, “Oh, this is just brisket…”
“Just brisket?” Bob gasped, staring at Alicia as though she’d just grown a second head.
Alicia seemed oblivious to Bob’s reaction and asked the waitress, “Hey, do y’all have any barbeque sauce for this?” Bob, the waitress, and I all stared at Alicia in horror.
A short time later, Alicia had smothered her pastrami with hot sauce and seemed satisfied while eating it. Bob just shook his head, muttering something about the state of today’s youth. It was all I could do not to laugh, though I did take mental notes as this was a great way to mess with him. The next time he wanted me to pick up a sandwich for him, I was going to make sure I brought him a bottle of hot sauce to go with it.
“So, what’s with the kid?” Bob finally asked me. “You decided to take an apprentice?”
“Nothing like that,” I assured him with a snort. “But never mind her. What do you have for me on Hexagon?”
“Like I said on the phone,” Bob told me. “He’s been picking up some powered muscle.” He slid a folder across the table at me and when I glanced through it, there were pictures of three people. They were all low level villains, a bit more successful than the usual Superbad crowd…but not by much. I knew all three of them by reputation, though one of them was a guy I’d worked with in the past.
“That shouldn’t be too difficult to handle,” I mused.
Bob glanced to Alicia and frowned, obviously annoyed by her presence since it meant we couldn’t talk quite as openly about our business as we might otherwise. “My anniversary is coming up soon,” he finally said, giving me a flat look. “I’m gonna need a present for my wife.”
“I’ll pick out something appropriate,” I assured him.
Bob and I talked for a few more minutes, avoiding anything that was too sensitive and that we didn’t want Alicia to hear. Fortunately, most of what I needed to talk to Bob about was no surprise to Alicia since she was already well aware of the fact that Hexagon wanted to kill her. And thankfully, she’d listened to the warnings I’d given her on the trip over and remained mostly silent.
When we were done, Bob told me, “Take care, Imp. And don’t forget the favor.”
“I won’t,” I responded, gesturing to Alicia that it was time to go.
As we stepped out the door, Alicia said, “Well, that was interestin.” She looked a little worried, though she was obviously trying to cover it up. “Ah think that maybe ah I should just go to the airport and fly back to mah school. Ah mean, ah’ll be safe from Hexagon and his goons there. Ah just hate the idea of cutting mah vacation short because of them…”
“That might not be a bad idea,” I said carefully, though I doubted that Alicia would be safe at any school. At best, it would put her out of Hexagon’s immediate reach and it might take him awhile to track her down, possibly long enough for that demon he was trying to summon to foreclose on him for not paying up.
Just then, I noticed something from the corner of my eye, a man who was dressed very much like I currently was. I was instantly at full alert and looked around, only to see several more suspicious looking people, all coming in my direction.
“Run,” I ordered Alicia, already turning to take off, but then hitting an invisible wall. It was only then that I noticed the glowing hexagon shape on the ground beneath us. “Ah shit. I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”
“Ya think?” Alicia responded with a snort, looking around with a fearful but defiant expression.
“Frequently,” I agreed with a smirk, still watching my approaching enemies, who’d obviously decided that it was time to stop hiding. Hexagon stepped into the open first, looking quite smug. I really wanted to slap that smirk off his face.
Then the man in the hat and trenchcoat suddenly started to grow, bursting right out of the coat and revealing a very large and muscular man in a dark blue costume. I immediately recognized Muscle, who was a shifter who could add mass to his body, increasing his height, musculature, and density a great deal. Once he reached seven feet…and he was so bulging with muscles that a world champion bodybuilder would be puny in comparison, he stopped growing, though I knew from personal experience that he could grow another foot if he wanted.
I knew Muscle, though not nearly as well as he would have liked. He was…appropriately enough…professional hired muscle. He’d made an entire career of working for one would-be mastermind after another, playing bodyguard, breaking legs, and generally just standing around and looking intimidating. Rumor had it that he’d once fought Mimeo, back when they were both young and just getting started in the business. Of course, Mimeo had come a long way since then while Muscle was still doing the exact same thing.
“Imp,” Muscle said with a scowl.
“Musclehead,” I responded with a grin. “Last time I saw you, you nearly begged me let you be my lackey. Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart.”
“Sorry I’ve gotta do this,” Muscle told me apologetically. “But a jobs a job.”
“Times are hard all over,” I agreed with in mock sympathy. Then I turned my attention to the next man and exclaimed, “Crash Test Dummy…”
Crash Test Dummy was about six feet tall and slender, wearing a costume that was lightweight body armor that had been put together from several mismatched sets so that even the colors didn’t match. One shoulder pad was flat gray, as though it had been sprayed with primer, while the other shoulder pad was dark green. There was a helmet on his head, though the entire front was covered with a completely transparent faceplate which allowed everyone to see his face, and which I thought defeated half the purpose of wearing one of those things. He also had several weapons on his belt and slung over his back, though none of them were in the same style either.
As far as I knew, Crash Test Dummy had no actual powers, just a lot of borrowed weapons and tech. And though he was known for robbing banks and generally just causing mayhem and destruction of property, he made most of his money by field testing equipment for local gadgeteers and devisors.
“Don’t call me that,” he exclaimed in an offended tone. He stood up straight and proudly announced, “I am called…”
“I don’t care,” I cut him off. “You can call yourself Mister Poodlepants if you want, but your name is Crash Test Dummy.”
“It is not,” he protested.
“It is now,” I returned with a grin, noticing that while Crash Test Dummy was getting frustrated, Muscle was snickering. “I changed it.”
Crash Test Dummy glared at me and argued, “You can’t just change someone else’s name…”
“Sure I can,” I told him with a smirk. “I’ve already hacked into the DPA records and had your name officially changed to Crash Test Dummy.”
For a moment, he just stared at me with a blank look, then he blurted out, “You’re lying…”
I just shrugged and grinned at him before admitting, “Yeah, but it’s a great idea. In fact, once we’re done here, I think I will go do that…”
“Enough with this comedy routine,” Hexagon exclaimed, obviously annoyed.
“What’s the matter Hexagoner?” I asked. “Feeling left out?”
And with that, I threw a handful of iron shavings at the invisible wall, having pulled them out while I’d been keeping everyone distracted. The sparks exploded around me, letting me know that it was working on the magic. Now I just had to haul my cute little ass out of here before Hexagon’s third lackey showed.
Just then, I suddenly felt extremely dizzy and staggered, bumping into the invisible wall and falling to the ground. I looked around but everything was blurry, with the colors shifting and moving. I grimaced, silently cursing the woman who was causing this.
“Deliria,” I spat out, looking around until I saw the woman in the garish pink costume.
I’d never met Deliria, but I had heard of her, even before Bob gave me the folder. Apparently, she’d gone through some kind of origin event and gained the power to instantly make people feel like they were totally plastered. She messed with their vision, their balance, and even their thinking process. And according to one guy whom I’d overheard talking about her, she was really bad in the sack.
“Ah shit,” I muttered while Alicia said something similar beside me.
“Merde,” she gasped, down on her knees and holding her head. “Is this what it feels like what ah use mah power?”
I was trying to think of a way out of this, and not having much luck, when I heard a familiar voice from behind me. “Okay,” Bob stated, “I’ve done my part and brought them to you. Don’t forget that favor you owe me…”
“Of course,” Hexagon responded in an arrogant tone. “I am a man of my word.”
“Bob,” I snarled, trying to glare at the traitor, though I was seeing three of him and didn’t know which one to focus on.
“Sorry Imp,” he told me gruffly. “This isn’t personal, but Hexagon promised to take care of the guy who did this…” He ran a finger along the nasty scar that ran across his face. I knew that it was only the most visible remnant from the incident that led him to retire his spandex, though certainly not the only one.
“And I will,” Hexagon assured him. “Once I’ve completed my ritual and have the demon under my control, I’ll send him to eliminate your enemy.”
Bob nodded at that, then paused to light a cigarette. “And if you get out of this…I consider us square.”
“Well, I don’t,” I stated, giving him an evil smile. “After this…I definitely owe you one.”
I got back to my feet, but I was pretty wobbly and uncoordinated. Suddenly, the effect got even worse and I began having the dry heaves, being thankful at the same time that I hadn’t actually eaten at the deli. Alicia, on the other hand, just lost her lunch.
After this, Alicia and I were quickly tied up, thrown into the back of a van, and hauled off. I couldn’t see where we were going, but it was a rough ride with me bouncing around in the back. Deliria and a somewhat deflated Muscle remained in back with us, making sure that neither of us had the opportunity to escape.
Eventually, I was kicked out of the van and found myself on a hard concrete floor. While we’d been traveling, Crash Test Dummy had slapped some kind of manacles on me…heavy ones that forced both of my hands into fists and covered them entirely. I might as well have stuck my hands into a bucket of wet concrete and let it set. Similar manacles were forced over my feet, meaning that I wouldn’t even be able to run away.
I looked around and saw that I was in a warehouse, one that looked like it was still in use. “Let me guess,” I commented wryly. “Warehouse lair number five. A classic, but a little too cliché. I mean, I’d expect some brooding vigilante to drop through the skylight at any moment…or maybe a gaggle of ninjas….”
“There ain’t no skylight,” Muscle commented, swelling up and becoming larger again.
I ignored Muscle and continued, “Personally, I’ve always preferred penthouse lair number two. Much more elegant.” Then I looked at Hexagon and smirked, “You really should look into something a little more upscale… Maybe a mansion… Oh wait…didn’t you have one of those?”
Hexagon snarled and kicked me in the side, and with the manacles I couldn’t do much to move out of the way. The kick hurt, but I just grinned…mostly to hide my worry. I was afraid…or at least concerned that I was in deep trouble.
“All y’all had better let us go,” Alicia demanded, desperately trying to hide her fear, though she wasn’t doing a very good job. “If ya don’t…Lady Astarte will come rescue me…and then all y’all will really be in trouble…”
“Lady Astarte,” Crash Test Dummy responded with a chuckle. “Good one kid.”
“Gag her,” Hexagon ordered, looking annoyed. “Take her to the back room and lock her up tight. I don’t want there to be any chance we lose her again.”
I was a bit surprised that they’d gagged Alicia instead of me, but then again, they needed Alicia for a bit longer. The question was, why hadn’t they killed me already? Then again, Hexagon might simply be planning on killing me slowly and painfully for the way I’d messed with his plans.
Deliria and Crash Test Dummy grabbed Alicia and began hauling her away while she tried to struggle in vain. I felt worried about the girl, but admittedly, I was even more concerned about myself. Then I noticed that even as those two left, someone else was walking in our direction.
“Okay, we’ve got the girl back,” Scott said as he came over.
The large man might have been intimidating in most places, but he looked scrawny compared to Muscle. He even gave Muscle a quick glare before hiding it. Obviously, he didn’t like the fact that he was no longer the big guy in the room.
“Are you going to complete the spell tonight?” Scott asked Hexagon.
“Unfortunately, there is one more complication,” Hexagon stated. He glared at me, his voice filled with venom as he continued, “I merely need to sacrifice the girl and then seal the ritual as complete.”
“So, what’s the big deal?” Muscle asked. “You said you just needed the girl…”
There was a long moment of silence before Hexagon reluctantly admitted, “The final words I require to complete the ritual are complicated and require preparation…”
Scott let out a sigh, then asked, “You forgot the words, didn’t you?”
“A minor inconvenience,” Hexagon snapped, kicking me in the side again. “I merely need to recover the painting… And you are going to tell me where you put it…”
“Whatchu talkin bout Willis?” I responded, earning another kick in the side. That was REALLY getting old.
“You are going to tell me where you hid my painting,” Hexagon demanded.
“Je ne comprends pas l’Anglais,” I answered. There was another kick, but I saw this one coming and flexed my PK aura so that it created a small shield in that spot. “You know, you can attract a lot more flies with honey than vinegar…”
“I’ll take care of this,” Scott told Hexagon, his expression turning grim. He came over and bent down beside me, grabbing my face in his hands and staring me straight in the eyes. “You’re going to tell us what we need to know. Whether it’s easy on you or painful is entirely up to you. Now, save yourself a lot of pain and tell us where you hid that painting…”
“I destroyed it,” I lied. “I threw it in the fireplace…”
“She’s an art freak,” Muscle announced, getting Hexagon and Scott to both look at him. “She’d rather cut off her arm than burn a painting…”
I glared at Muscle, definitely not happy with him. I wondered if this was because I turned him down when he asked me out on a date. It was possible, but in spite of being a dumb thug, he was a professional. Once he sold his loyalty to someone…or at least once he leased it…he remained loyal until their contract was over. And at the moment, he owed his loyalty to Hexagon, not me.
Scott pulled out a large knife and simply said, “Let’s try this again…” He bent down beside me, and just as I expected to face another threat, he drove the knife into my thigh. I hadn’t seen it coming quickly enough to shield myself, so I ended yelling in pain. “Now…where is that painting?”
I grimaced as I glared at Scott, knowing that the smart thing to do would be to simply tell him what he wanted to know. It wasn’t my painting and I didn’t really care if Hexagon used magic to off his enemies…or at least not his other enemies. However, I also knew that the moment they had that painting, they’d kill me and then sacrifice Alicia…just like they’d tried to do the other day.
“Talk,” Scott demanded, punching me in the stomach, then grabbing my leg where he’d stabbed me and squeezing me.
“That’s funny,” I said, forcing out the words through my pain. “Most of the time people are telling me to shut up…”
I felt a strong temptation to offer them a deal…my freedom for the painting. I didn’t owe any loyalty to Alicia. I barely even knew the girl. But at the same time, I knew I couldn’t do it. I might not have known the girl for very long, but I kind of liked her. I couldn’t trade her life for mine. I might be a thief and a super villain, but I wasn’t a monster.
Scott suddenly drove the knife into my other thigh, and this time he twisted it. While I screamed in pain, he punched me in the face. I felt an explosion of more pain as he broke my nose. More punches followed, hitting my face and stomach.
“She doesn’t seem so tough for a mutant super villain,” Scott commented almost absently.
Muscle didn’t look happy about my being tortured, but he made no move to help me. “She’s a thief,” he said in my defense, “Not a fighter.”
“Yes, she is a thief,” Hexagon stated, looking down at me with a look of satisfaction. “And she made the mistake of stealing from me…”
“You stole my painting first,” I muttered defiantly, though it hurt to say anything. That earned me another kick, this one aimed at my thigh where I’d been stabbed. I couldn’t focus enough to shield the impact.
“I NEED that painting,” Hexagon told Scott. “I need to complete the ritual before the demon comes…otherwise…even with the right sacrifice…it will be able to alter the terms of our agreement as it sees fit.”
“And that won’t be good,” Scott nodded agreement. “Don’t worry Hexagon. She’ll tell us where it is.”
With that, Hexagon and Muscle walked awhile while Scott leaned over me again. He didn’t repeat the question or even say a word. Instead, he just went to work with the knife.
“Now then,” Scott announced several minutes later. “I hope you’ll be more cooperative…”
I was spread out in the middle of the warehouse floor, a broken and bloody mess. I was sure that a couple of my ribs were broken, and I thought my arm might be as well. And then there were the various cuts he’d given me, all of which hurt like hell.
“No more,” I whispered, ashamed of myself for talking like that.
I was a professional thief…a career criminal…a super villain… There was no way in hell that I was going to be taken down by these second rate thugs…and especially not by some sadistic baseline who didn’t even have power. After everything I’d gone through and survived, I absolutely refused to go down like that.
“No more,” I stated, trying to gather every ounce of my willpower. Then I began whispering my home address. Scott crouched down beside me, bending over so he could hear what I was whispering. I just grinned evilly and said, “Gotcha.”
With that, I swung my tail up and across his side…with my PK aura concentrated around the tip the same way I did with my claws. An invisible PK blade sliced right through his side, then I cut him again. Scott fell backwards, gurgling as he bled out on the floor beside me.
“Sucks to be you,” I whispered, knowing that I couldn’t just go to sleep like I wanted.
I remained where I was for several minutes, letting my regeneration do what it could for me. And though I would have loved to stay there longer…a lot longer…I didn’t dare. I didn’t know when Hexagon or one of his goons would come back to check on us. So with some effort, I positioned myself so I could use my tail to cut through the manacles on my hands. With those free, it was fairly easy to free my feet as well, though at the moment, easy was a relative term. Once my restraints were gone, I slowly pulled myself along the floor towards the nearest exit. It hurt like hell, but I knew it would hurt more if I stayed. I silently reminded myself that the soft tissue damage would heal in no time at all, though the broken bones would take a bit longer.
By the time I’d made it out of the warehouse, I felt strong enough to stand, though just barely. But even though I was able to get to my feet, I still hurt like hell and was in no shape to fight Hexagon or his hired thugs. I grimaced at that, knowing that there was absolutely no way I could get past them and get Alicia out. None. At the moment, it was taking everything I had just to get myself out.
For a moment, I just stood there, letting the fear fade and the anger grow. I was pissed…really pissed. The last time I’d been this angry had been when the Crimson Kid set up my buddy Max and sent him to his death. Back then, I’d dealt with the Kid, so now it seemed that I’d have to do the same to Hexagon.
Then as I turned to walk away, I stated, “Of course you know, this means war.”
Someone recently pointed out that I hadn't posted part 4 of the story to Big Closet, even though I had posted it elsewhere. When I checked, I found it was indeed missing from Big Closet, so either it mysteriously disappeared or my overactive imagination convinced me that I had posted it when I hadn't. Either way, I'm posting it 'again'.
New York, Thursday April 12th, 2007
I sat on top of the tall building, staring out at the distant skyline as I considered my situation. It was late afternoon in Manhattan, which meant that I didn’t have any peace and quiet, even this far above ground. However, that was perfectly fine as I’d always found something soothing in the background noise of a busy city.
I absently felt my side, where my ribs had been broken yesterday, and though I’d already healed from my injuries, I still felt a bit of an ache. I knew that it was just psychosomatic, but it was a reminder of what I’d gone through…of what Hexagon and his buddy Scott had done to me. Memories of the pain and humiliation made me snarl in anger, though I tried to control my emotions as I planned my next move.
Since I’d escaped from Hexagon and still had the painting in my possession, I could easily just disappear, thwarting his plans in the process. I knew just how much it would frustrate him to be that close to succeeding, but to have it remain just out of reach. I smirked faintly at the knowledge that I could screw him over without having to do anything at all. However, there were several flaws with that plan. There were three major reasons that I couldn’t just walk away from this now.
The first reason was revenge. Hexagon had hurt and humiliated me…and I definitely wanted to get back at him. The idea of just sitting back to do it didn’t feel right...and it wouldn’t be satisfying. I’d always thought that chasing revenge was unprofessional and sloppy…that it could be a distraction from your real goals. However, there were times that it was necessary, and this wouldn’t be my first time going after someone in revenge.
Monster Max had been freakish looking, a brutish thug, and a dangerous rager…but he’d also been my friend. Max had been sweet on me, calling me his pretty little Imp and trying to act like a gentleman when I was around. Though I hadn’t been interested in him romantically, he’d always made me feel like a lady and I’d liked him. That was why I’d been furious when I found out what that so called hero, the Crimson Kid, had done to him.
I wasn’t the type to go after someone directly, so I’d been patient and followed the Kid, finding his real identity. Then the real fun had begun. I’d gone into his home and his civilian job when he was away, and changed things around…just enough to drive him nuts at first. I destroyed his credit and finances, sabotaged his job and reputation, and then I’d stepped up the game further. I left his driver’s license at the scene of a big job, then told some of Max’s other friends who the Kid was and what he’d done. The Kid barely survived their attack on him, and afterwards, he’d gone on the run. The last I’d heard, he was now a drunk, living on the streets of Chicago and desperately trying to hide his identity from everyone.
The second reason was reputation. In my line of work, a good reputation was invaluable. It could open a lot of doors and provide a great deal of protection. On the other hand, a bad reputation could make you a target and get you killed. Once a villain gets a reputation as being an easy mark, their career might as well be over. I’ve spent thirty years in the business, building my reputation as a skilled thief, and there was absolutely no way that I was going to let a group of second rate idiots destroy that.
And then there was the third reason…Alicia. If I walked away now, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that they’d kill her. Even if Hexagon couldn’t use her as a sacrifice to complete his ritual, he’d just kill her out of spite. Sure, I’ve only known the girl for a few days, but I kind of liked her. Maybe it was just loneliness speaking, but it was nice having someone else around, someone who I could actually be myself with. And oddly enough, I actually had a lot of fun teaching her about art and painting.
“I’m not going to turn my back on you,” I promised.
Unfortunately, I was fully aware of the fact that getting Alicia out of that place alive was easier said than done. Hexagon had three powered subordinates working for him, not to mention those baseline gunmen. Sneaking past them wouldn’t have been much of a problem, but they were bound to be watching Alicia pretty closely, especially after my escape. There was no way that I’d be able to sneak her past them…at least not without help. I was going to need someone else to help with this job…to provide a distraction if nothing else.
I considered all my options, but I didn’t really like any of them. I didn’t really have many friends, and certainly none that I could count on to help me with this, or at least, none that would be able to arrive in time. I could try recruiting some local muscle of my own, the same way Hexagon had, but that wasn’t a good idea either. After the way Bob had turned on me, I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone else with this either. And just as bad, after what Hexagon had done to me, I’d probably come off looking weak…which I couldn’t allow.
“Rescuing someone isn’t a job for villains anyway,” I mused to myself. “That’s what heroes are for.”
Unfortunately, I was well aware of the fact that trying to get heroes involved in the situation would probably make things even worse. Sure, groups like the Empire City Guard or the Sentinels would easily be able to deal with Hexagon and his goons, but I seriously doubted that they’d treat me any differently. And besides, I didn’t need that much firepower, especially not when I didn’t know the players well enough to predict what they might do. I needed help…but it had to be on a smaller scale and more predictable.
Then I saw my target in the distance and grinned. “There he is. Chickenhawk.”
This was an area of Manhattan where Chickenhawk was frequently seen flying around on patrol, so I’ve spent several hours in place, waiting for him to come by. Whether he realized it or not, he’s been drafted to help me save Alicia. Of course, I probably could have just come out and asked him, but he’d never take me seriously enough to listen, and even if he did, it would take far too long to convince him. Besides, my way is much more fun.
“Now to get his attention,” I mused, knowing that I had to give him a reason to stick around the area long enough for the second part.
I flung one of my throwing spikes at Chickenhawk, using my PK aura to add enough oomph so it could reach him. Unfortunately, my aim was off, so it took three more spikes before one hit him. His armor easily stopped the spike, but it definitely got his attention. He stopped where he was and began to look around more closely. I grinned, pulled out a big red flag and began waving it back and forth so he’d notice me. And then as he started flying in my direction, I did the smoke bomb thing and vanished.
“I hope I wasn’t too obvious,” I muttered, scrambling down the wall to a specific window, then letting myself inside.
The office I was in was owned by a company that sold some rather nice pieces of jewelry, and by nice, I meant really expensive. Unlike a lot of women I knew, I’d never really been all that interested in jewelry. Sure, I’d wear some earrings or a necklace on occasion, but I wasn’t really all that flashy. What really got my heart racing wasn’t a shiny little bauble, but a beautiful piece of art. However, I’d always liked stealing jewelry because it was a lot easier to sneak out with some diamonds than with a large painting.
I quietly slipped down the hall, pausing when I heard a couple people talking in the side office. I listened in for a moment, unable to make out much through the closed door, though a woman was talking about some kind of large amethyst and getting excited about it. I frowned slightly at that since an amethyst wasn’t something to get bent out of shape over, especially not compared to the things these people usually dealt with. However, the fact that she was getting excited over the thing was enough to catch my interest. After all, if these people got excited about it, then that meant it would probably be quite profitable for me.
“Not now,” I reminded myself. I was on a tight schedule and didn’t have time to get sidetracked.
A minute later, I found where they kept their goodies, a vault with the heavy metal door locked tight. It took me almost no time at all to get through it so I could enter the room. There were shelves, drawers, and cabinets filled with jewelry of every sort. I quickly looked over the small room, immediately going to a display case that had the largest and most gaudy necklace I’d ever seen. I clearly screamed out, ‘I’m REALLY rich and have no sense of taste’.
“Perfect,” I mused, popping open the case and taking the necklace. It would be a real pain in the ass trying to sell it through a fence, but I could still make a small fortune selling the individual stones. And then, just because I didn’t want to waste the opportunity, I grabbed a few loose stones as well. “A pity I can’t take the time to clean this place out…”
With that, I set my business card onto the display case where the gaudy necklace had been, making sure that the side with my logo was facing upward. My logo was just a black circle with little devil horns on top and a squiggly devil tail coming out from the bottom on one side. I used to use the thing whenever I wanted to brag about having done a robbery, but I’d ceased doing that much over the last couple years. However, this seemed like the perfect time to bring the symbol out of retirement.
“Now riddle me this,” I said with a smirk as I turned to leave. Then as I reached the vault door, I paused, realizing that I’d deactivated the alarms when I came in out of habit. Since that wouldn’t do for what I had planned, I reached over and hit the manual alarm, then continued walking out of the vault, singing, “Ooops I did it again…”
Mere seconds later, a security guard raced around the corner, pulling his gun and yelling, “Freeze…”
I stopped where I was, gave him a charming smile and exclaimed, “I am the fabulous Imp.” I gave a dramatic bow, followed up with evil laugh number three, then I threw a smoke bomb at my feet. Before the smoke had cleared, I was crouched down and motionless in a corner where I could watch and wait.
Chickenhawk had been flying around the building, trying to figure out what I was up to, so he arrived in almost no time at all, well before the police. As soon as he arrived, he announced, “I’m Superhawk…and I’m trying to catch the Imp...”
“She just left a few minutes ago,” the security guard told him, giving Chickenhawk a suspicious look, as though worried he might be my accomplice.
Chickenhawk scowled in obvious frustration before asking, “What did she take this time?”
A man who seemed to be the manager responded, “We haven’t checked our inventory yet, but I think she took the Carhart necklace, some loose stones…and a few diamond bracelets.”
I wasn’t at all surprised that he threw in the bracelets to the list, nor would I be surprised if a few more pieces were added by the time this was reported to their insurance company. This certainly wasn’t the first time that I’d seen my victims turn around and do a little stealing from the insurance companies in return. In fact, quite a few of my victims ended up making a profit from my thefts.
“She left something behind,” the security guard said, pointing out my business card. I was relieved that someone had noticed it, because it would have been really embarrassing if I’d gone through all that and Chickenhawk hadn’t even seen it.
Chickenhawk picked up the card, not seeming to be concerned with such things as fingerprints and maintaining evidence. Then again, he was wearing gloves. He looked the card over, scowling as he did so. After several seconds, he finally announced, “She left clues on the back… Some kind of puzzle”
“Clues?” the security guard asked in surprise. “Like in a comic book?” He actually looked skeptical that anyone would do that kind of thing in real life.
“This is the Imp,” Chickenhawk responded wryly. “She’s playing some kind of game. This will probably lead me to whatever she’s planning next…”
The security guard shook his head, then cautiously asked, “Think it could be a trap?”
“Probably,” Chickenhawk agreed. “Knowing Imp, she might be planning to tar and feather me…or smother me to death with bird seed.” The security guard stared at Chickenhawk, who to my surprise, actually chuckled faintly. “Imp is insane…but you can’t say she’s boring.”
I just grinned at that, making a mental note to try the tar and feather thing with him someday. That could be a lot of fun, especially if I got a lot of chicken feathers… Then I paused, fighting back the urge to either laugh or shake my head. I had to remain perfectly still so I didn’t risk giving myself away.
Chickenhawk put my card back where he’d found it, then told the security guard and manager, “Make sure the police see this. I’m going to try finding her.”
Once Chickenhawk was gone, I carefully made my way out, creeping around the corners and moving at an absolute crawl until I finally had my opportunity. Then once I did, I slipped out a window and was on my way. All I had to do now as get to my bike, ride to the warehouse, and hope that Chickenhawk was able to follow the series of rather obvious clues that I’d left for him.
I arrived in plenty of time and then did a little scouting while waiting for my unwitting backup. I was a little concerned that Chickenhawk might take precautions for this being a trap and bringing backup of his own, and though that might make taking care of Hexagon and the goons easier, it would also make it more likely that I’d get caught in the crossfire too. Fortunately, Chickenhawk arrived by himself, though he hovered in the air, not making a move.
“It looks like I’m gonna have to get the ball rolling,” I mused.
I ran out into the open, made a show of looking up and acting as though I’d just noticed Chickenhawk for the first time. “You found me,” I exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour…” Of course, the truth was that I’d actually been expecting him to arrive at least half an hour before this.
“What are you up to?” Chickenhawk demanded suspiciously.
“You’ll have to catch me to find out,” I responded with a grin. Then I turned and ran for the warehouse entrance, yelling out, “He’s here my loyal minions. Prepare the tar and feathers…”
“Imp,” Chickenhawk yelled at me, but I was already running through the door.
Muscle and Crash Test Dummy were standing in the middle of the warehouse, looking over the blood soaked spot where Scott’s body had been the last time I’d been here. It looked like they’d been talking about what happened yesterday, but they both stopped and stared at me with looks of surprise. Obviously, they didn’t expect me to come back after escaping, and certainly not by marching through the front door.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Muscle stated, almost looking disappointed.
“Come on guys,” I joked. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Muscle and Crash Test Dummy both starting towards me with grim expressions, right as Chickenhawk came through the door behind me, announcing, “I know this is a trap…”
I just grinned evilly and yelled, “Now my minions, destroy my enemies…”
“She brought backup,” Crash Test Dummy told Muscle as he pulled a large weapon from his back, one that looked something like an oversized energy blaster.
At the same time, Chickenhawk responded, “So this time you brought friends…”
With that, the fight was on. Crash Test Dummy aimed his weapon at Chickenhawk, only to have the hero hit him with a ball of warped gravity. Crash Test Dummy suddenly went flying back, as though his gravity had been turned sideways. He only went a dozen feet or so before the effect ended, but it was enough to have him thrown way off balance. I knew first hand just how difficult it was to fight when you kept getting hit with those things.
“You’re going down,” Muscle snarled as he charged at Chickenhawk.
Chickenhawk lunged forward, and to Muscle’s surprise, grabbed him and picked him up, lifting the large thug over his head as though he didn’t weigh anything. Chickenhawk levitated up into the air, nearly to the warehouse ceiling, then he bodyslammed the villain to the ground. I winced at the impact, knowing that must have hurt. Muscle might be a lot stronger than a normal person, but he wasn’t some invulnerable brick. In fact, when Muscle was fully pumped up, he was probably about the equivalent of an exemplar 4.
“Muscle, I believe,” Chickenhawk commented as he landed on the ground again.
“I’m gonna stomp your ass,” Muscle said as he got back to his feet with a grunt of pain. Then he began to swell larger, his height and muscles all pumping up until he was eight feet tall and buff enough that he even made the Hulk look small in comparison.
“Shouldn’t that be Muscle smash?” I asked with a grin, distracting him just long enough for Chickenhawk to grab him…then send him flying back all the way across the warehouse until he slammed into a wall. “Ouch. That’s gotta hurt.”
Crash Test Dummy was back on his feet, and when he used his weapon, a stream of flames shot out. He was using a flame thrower of some sort, though there didn’t appear to be any fuel tank for it. Who knew what devisor or gadgereer built it either since it could have been anyone from the Crazy Cog to the Iron Queen. Well, maybe not the Iron Queen. Her standards were much too high to use someone like Crash Test Dummy to test her toys.
Suddenly, Hexagon arrived, along with three of his baseline gunmen. “Imp,” he exclaimed, looking both furious and pleased to see me at the same time. “You’ve returned…”
“And I brought Chickenhawk…just like you wanted boss,” I responded with an evil grin, knowing full well that I’d just caught Chickenhawk’s attention with that.
“So you’re the one behind all this,” Chickenhawk exclaimed, shooting one of his gravity spheres at Hexagon.
Hexagon gestured with his staff and a glowing hexagon appeared in the air in front of him, blocking Chickenhawk’s attack. He immediately retaliated by firing a blast of red energy at the hero, who had to fly back in order to avoid Crash Test Dummy’s flames. Then Hexagon fired a blast at me, though I saw it coming and jumped to avoid it.
“You know, this place still looks like crap,” I commented with a cheerfulness I didn’t really feel. “You need to spruce it up a little. You know, put a big honking throne over here, a tank full of sharks over there…and sprinkle in a few death traps. Voila…instant evil lair.”
“SHUT UP,” Hexagon yelled, firing another blast at me.
“You should see the Imp Cave,” I continued, knowing full well that I was pissing him off…which was the entire point. “I mean, it’s loaded with all the options. I’ve got a disco room, a great home theater with surround sound, and even sharks with friggin laser beams on their heads.”
Hexagon snarled and fired blast after blast at me, which I kept dodging, not only his attacks but Chickenhawk’s. My unwitting patsy had obviously realized that something was going on since my supposed boss and minions were attacking me too, but he was a little too caught up in the fight to stop and ask what that something was.
Now that most of Hexagon’s people were out there playing, it was time to make my move. I flung one of my throwing spikes at a gunman, hitting him in the shoulder and sending him flying back with a scream of pain. Since that was the arm he’d been using to hold his gun, he was mostly out of the fight. I leapt at the next gunman, slicing my nails across his face, then kicking him in the balls. I yanked the gun out of his hands, gave him another swift kick, then tossed the gun as far as I could. I might have used the gun myself, but my aim with firearms sucked.
I waited until Chickenhawk picked up a large crate and sent it flying at Hexagon before I turned and ran away from the fight and towards the back of the warehouse. I knew that Alicia was tied up in the back room, and now was my opportunity to reach her. There was one gunman by the door, but I hit him before he realized it, tearing the gun from his hand and breaking his nose.
“You aren’t getting paid enough to fight people with powers,” I told him, hoping that he’d take the suggestion. He stared at me with a look of fear and nodded his understanding.
When I stepped into the room, I found it was an office with a desk, computer, and even a filing cabinet. Alicia was in the corner, sitting on a chair though her hands and feet were both locked up in the same kind of metal manacles that I’d escaped from myself. She had a gag over her mouth and a blindfold over her eyes, probably to prevent her from actually using her powers on anyone.
“Just a minute,” I told her, relieved to see that she didn’t appear to be hurt.
Once I got Alicia’s blindfold and gag off, she exclaimed, “Bout time ya got here... Ah was startin to get worried.” But in spite of her casual words, she looked more than a little relieved. Then she admitted, “Ah heard what they did to ya…”
“Don’t worry about that,” I told her with a forced grin. “I even brought a super hero to help rescue you…though he probably doesn’t know that yet. Now stay close to me so we can sneak out of here.”
We’d barely left the office when I was suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea that caused me to nearly drop to my knees. “Deliria,” I spat out in annoyance, looking around until I saw her…or at least three blurry versions of her. It was hard to focus on anything when everything was blurry and moving around. I threw a spike at her, but my aim was pretty off at the moment. I knew I missed her, just not by how much.
“I can’t believe you came back,” Deliria stated, sounding rather smug. “You were free and clear…but you came back for this kid. Why? You aren’t a hero.”
“Who says she ain’t?” Alicia demanded, and suddenly Deliria staggered and dropped to her knees while my sense of dizziness quickly faded away. “Now, let’s see how y’all like a taste of yer own medicine…”
I shook my head to help clear it the rest of the way, then looked over as Alicia jumped on Deliria, punching and kicking the villainess, who barely seemed capable of fighting back. I was stunned as Deliria, a professional villain, was getting her ass kicked by a teenage girl. After watching for a few seconds, I burst out laughing, looking forward to telling the story the next time I was having some drinks at the Black Mask.
“I take it you’ve had some experience fighting,” I commented with a smirk.
“Ah take a class at school,” Alicia responded proudly. Then she glared down at Deliria, who was curled up in a ball on the ground, and announced, “Mah teacher would flunk mah ass if ah fought like that. Ah mean, the first thing Ito Sensei says is that ya can’t rely on just yer powers…”
I leaned down beside Deliria and said, “You know, if I was you, I’d take this opportunity to reconsider your career options. I mean, you obviously aren’t very good at this villain thing. Maybe you should consider a career in fast food…”
“It’s pretty sad if yer letting an Underdog knock ya around,” Alicia agreed with a grin.
“Come on,” I told Alicia, half hoping that Deliria tried something again, just so I could watch the rematch. However, I suspected that Deliria was used to taking out threats with her power and that this was the first time she’d actually had to deal with what happens when that didn’t work. “I think the back door is this way.”
Hexagon and all of his people were now fully occupied by Chickenhawk, which meant that the side door was completely unguarded. It was locked up tight, but that was absolutely no problem. A few seconds later, the door was open and I was ushering Alicia out.
“Now we can haul ass and get out of here,” I told Alicia.
Just then, I heard a yell from the other side of the warehouse, one that had come from Chickenhawk. I froze at that, suddenly feeling a little guilty for tricking him into being my distraction, and then abandoning him like that. Chickenhawk was pretty tough…but he was facing three powered opponents. I’d been pretty sure he could handle those clowns when I brought him, but now…
“Damn,” I exclaimed, looking to Alicia. I shook my head, hardly able to believe I was even considering this. “I left a motorcycle around the corner. Go wait there for me and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I hurried back towards where I’d left Chickenhawk to fight Hexagon, and to my surprise, I found that they’d captured the hero. Chickenhawk was floating in the air, held up inside a cage made of glowing red energy, with each side of the cage being a flat hexagon shaped shield, just like the one Hexagon had previously used to protect himself. Though Chickenhawk was punching at the cage and trying to escape, it seemed to be holding him pretty effectively. I was surprised since I hadn’t realized that Hexagon was capable of something like that.
Muscle stood to the side, having deflated back down to his seven foot size, which wasn’t quite as large and intimidating as how I’d last seen him, but he was probably more maneuverable. Crash Test Dummy was a short distance away, trying to pose as though he was a tough guy though he wasn’t able to really pull it off. The mismatched armor definitely helped to make him look less than threatening, but the largest part of it was that he was simply a dork.
“No,” I muttered in disgust. “Don’t you DARE make me rescue the hero…”
“Where is it?” Hexagon demanded furiously. He was standing in front of Chickenhawk, holding his staff in hand and pointing it at the hero in a threatening manner. “You’re working with that devil woman, so she must have told you where she hid the painting…”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Chickenhawk responded defiantly. Then he paused, “Unless you’re talking about one of the paintings from the museum… The police said that all of them had been recovered…except one.”
“Of course I’m talking about that painting,” Hexagon snarled. “Your friend has run off and abandoned you, but I will get my hands on her again. After what she did to…” His expression was frantic and filled with hate. He was desperate to get the painting so he could finish that ritual, but I had a feeling that there was more to it than that. Hexagon was also pissed over what I’d done to his buddy.
“Superhawk and Imp ain’t exactly friends,” Muscle told Hexagon. “I can’t believe they’re working together…”
“We’re not,” Chickenhawk snapped.
Muscle just grinned, “So, you didn’t come to rescue that hostage?”
“Hostage?” Chickenhawk responded, the tone of his voice changing. “The one from the museum… You still have her…”
“Oh yes,” Hexagon responded in a cold voice. “And once I have that painting, I’ll complete the ritual…and all of my enemies will be destroyed. One by one, they will fall before my power…”
Chickenhawk stood there for a moment, staring down at Hexagon defiantly. “Then even if I did know where that painting was, there is no way I’d tell you.”
“Then you’re of no use to me,” Hexagon stated dismissively. “Once I finish you, we’ll simply find the devil girl and continue her interrogation…” With that, he raised his staff and was about to blast Chickenhawk.
“Chickenhawk is MY toy,” I called out loudly, “And I’ll be very cross if you break him.”
With that, I stepped out from where I was hiding to where they could see me. Everyone turned to stare at me in surprise, but I just grinned and held out my leverage so they could see it. One of the things I’d done when I was scouting around the warehouse was to hide my leverage near the warehouse entrance, right within easy reach if I needed it. And unfortunately, I definitely needed it…at least if I wanted to keep Chickenhawk from being killed.
“Imp,” Chickenhawk exclaimed angrily. “What kind of game are you playing here?”
“Pictionary,” I responded, holding up the painting in my hand so that everyone else could see the face of Alistaire Duccard staring out at them.
“My painting,” Hexagon exclaimed in clear excitement.
Hexagon started for me, raising his staff with the obvious intention of using his magic. However I waved a finger at him and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not unless you want to see grandpa go up in flames.” And with that, I held a lighter up next to the painting, causing Hexagon to freeze.
“Give me that painting,” Hexagon demanded, glaring at me with his hate filled eyes.
“Or what?” I asked with an evil grin. “You’ll have your boyfriend torture me again?” His expression grew even darker, if that was even possible. I’d just thrown the boyfriend comment out there to mess with him, but maybe there was actually something there after all. “Ooops… I guess that’s out of the question…”
Hexagon snarled and was about to blast me, but I flicked the lighter and held the flame near the painting. He froze again with a worried look on his face. He didn’t dare do anything that risked the painting, not when he needed the rest of the ritual to keep the demon from screwing him over. Of course, having the painting wouldn’t do him much good now that Alicia had escaped, but he didn’t know about that just yet.
“I know,” I exclaimed with mock enthusiasm. “Instead of Pictionary, we’ll play…Let’s make a Deal.”
“A deal?” Hexagon asked suspiciously.
“Sure,” I responded with a grin. “Just a little trade…”
“I won’t give you the girl,” Hexagon stated firmly. “I…require her assistance.”
“I’m sure you do, Hexagoner,” I told him. “But I can do without the girl… How about…” I paused as if trying to think about it. “I know, I want my favorite toy back. The painting for Chickenhawk.”
“No,” Chickenhawk snarled. “You can’t let him have that painting…”
Hexagon gave an evil smile, and I could see the wheels turning in his twisted little mind. Why should he have a problem making the trade and letting me walk out of here, when after he completed the ritual, he could have his pet demon take care of Chickenhawk and I both?
Just as he was about to agree to the deal, I announced, “On second thought…” And with that, I put the lighter to the painting, which I’d previously sprayed with a highly flammable coating. The whole thing burst into flames, so I dropped it to the ground in front of me while Hexagon cried out a shriek of horror. Then in my best Urkel voice, I asked, “Did I do that?”
“I’ll DESTROY YOU,” Hexagon screamed, firing one blast of energy at me and then another.
“I guess I’m a little imp-pulsive,” I said, jumping to the side and running for the nearest warehouse wall. I quickly scrambled up the wall, singing, “Spider Imp…Spider Imp…”
“Get her,” Hexagon ordered.
Crash Test Dummy opened fire with his flame thrower, which had a much finer stream than any flamethrower I’ve seen before, and much greater range. However, I was still able to get out of range, then I braced myself against the wall, focused as much of the energy from my aura into my legs as I could, and jumped…using my power to give me an extra boost.
“Cowabunga,” I called out, throwing a handful of iron shavings ahead of me, right onto the cage that was holding Chickenhawk. Sparks flew and the cage was disrupted enough that he was able to break out. I rolled in the air, then focused on my aura again, using it to absorb the impact when I landed. “Courtesy of your fabulous neighborhood Spider Imp.”
“What in the world are you doing?” Chickenhawk demanded as he landed back on the ground.
“Imp-provising,” I responded with a grin. “Now to imp-lement the rest of my brilliant plan. Run.”
Muscle chose that moment to charge at Chickenhawk, who hit him with another of his gravity warp balls. Suddenly, Muscle went flying through the air, right towards me. I wasn’t sure if Chickenhawk had aimed him that way intentionally or not, but I certainly wouldn’t have put it past him.
The effect wore off before Muscle reached me, but the momentum kept him going right through where I’d been standing. I dove to the side, watching as Muscle hit the ground and slide face first for a few more feet before coming to a stop. I barely let him get back to his feet before I threw a spike at him, adding a little extra oomph to it from my aura and sending it right through his massive thigh.
Muscle yelled out in pain, then looked at me as though I’d somehow betrayed him. That was pretty ironic since he’d gone to work for a guy who’d tortured me and had just stood by while it happened.
“Nothing personal,” I told Muscle. “But the next one goes through your forehead.”
Muscle was clutching his injured leg as he stared at me, then he nodded faintly and took a knee. “Understood.”
Crash Test Dummy and Hexagon were both trying to get Chickenhawk, but the hero was doing a good job of staying out of their reach. The fact that Hexagon was halfway across the warehouse and picking himself up off the ground was a good indication that he’d just taken a hit from Chickenhawk’s gravity ball.
“I’ll burn your ass,” Crash Test Dummy called out, tempting me to make a joke about spicy chili. He was still using the flame thrower gun, shooting at Chickenhawk, who was using a chunk form a crate as a shield. Then Crash Test Dummy gasped, “Damn… It’s jammed…”
“Hey Dummy,” I yelled. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with fire?”
Suddenly, Crash Test Dummy’s flame thrower was no longer firing in a stream, though the barrel was still on fire…and there were a few sparks from the back. Crash Test Dummy threw the weapon away from him and turned to run, but the gun exploded in a massive ball of flame. The idiot villain who’d just been using the thing screamed as his entire backside was engulfed in flames.
In my best Yosemite Sam impersonation, I exclaimed, “My britches are burning. My britches are burning.” And then, just to rub salt into the wound a little more, and because I thought it was funny, I added, “Liar liar pants on fire…”
Muscle remained where he was, perhaps because of my threat of a spike through his head, but more likely, because he knew that without the painting, there was no way Hexagon could really win. Still, he called out to Dummy, obviously trying to help as he told him, “Stop drop and roll…” I just started to laugh since that was the next thing I would have said.
Hexagon created a glowing hexagon on the ground beneath Chickenhawk, but the hero flew up and over the invisible walls, which obviously didn’t extend that high. I was surprised since I’d never even considered trying something like that. A moment later, Hexagon was creating a shield in the air to block the gravity warping ball that was sent flying at him.
Crash Test Dummy finally seemed to realize that he wasn’t actually hurt and that his armor had protected him from the quickly fading flames. However, that meant he also had enough presence of mind to remember that he was in the middle of a fight. He pulled another odd looking weapon from his harness, one that looked like it might be some kind of energy pistol. It didn’t do him any good though since I was already in his face, knocking the gun from his hand and then using my tail to yank his foot out from underneath him.
“You bitch,” Crash Test Dummy exclaimed, already reaching for another weapon and trying to get back to his feet.
“You really are a dummy, Dummy,” I told him grimly. “Hexagon can’t finish the spell or summon that demon. Even if he walks away from here, he won’t be in any position to pay you…”
“Maybe not,” Crash Test Dummy responded. “But that’s not the point. Besides, if I cap you, that will do wonders for my rep…”
“You mean the reputation for being a brain dead idiot who uses himself as a human crash test dummy?” I asked with a smirk, which only pissed him off.
Crash Test Dummy activated his weapon, which was revealed to be some kind of energy sword. A massive blade made of glowing white energy emerged from the hilt, extending about six feet in length. It was a good thing for the dummy that the blade was made of energy, because if it had been made of metal, it would have been way too heavy and unwieldy for him to actually use. Then as he swung the blade, it was immediately obvious that he didn’t know what he was doing. That was one of the problems with testing other people’s weapons for them.
“The Teknight will be pleased to know his sword works,” Crash Test Dummy stated smugly. “Of course, he’ll want to know how well it actually cuts through an opponent too, so I’d better test that for him…”
I ducked and dodged as Crash Test Dummy swung the sword at me, definitely not wanting to see how well it actually worked. I wasn’t even sure if my PK aura would be able to block it at all, even with every ounce of energy being focused into one spot. And unfortunately for the dummy, his armor protected him from most of my normal ways of fighting, which left me with very few options. That was bad for him because it meant I couldn’t hold back.
“This is your last chance to back off,” I warned Crash Test Dummy, who acted as though he hadn’t even heard me.
This time as I dove to the side to avoid his slash, I concentrated on my aura, focusing all the energy at the tip of my tail. Then as I swung around, the PK blade I’d formed around the tip of my tail sliced through Crash Test Dummy’s wrist. His hand and the weapon he was holding both fell to the floor while he screamed and used his remaining hand to grab at the stump.
“Now that I’ve disarmed you,” I said, not feeling all that amused as I made the joke.
I looked over to where Chickenhawk was dealing with Hexagon, seeing that the hero definitely had the advantage. Hexagon had lost his staff and was grasping the hexagon shaped medallion around his neck with a strange desperation. He muttered a few words and a rather weak looking blast of energy emerged from his hand, though Chickenhawk used a chunk of broken crate as a shield to block the attack.
“Almost out of essence,” Hexagon gasped, looking exhausted. He looked away from Chickenhawk and at me, his expression dark and filled with hate. “I’ll destroy you…”
“You and what army?” I teased, knowing that he’d already sent his army after me. I couldn’t resist giving him a raspberry, which pissed him off even worse.
“You’re done,” Chickenhawk stated. “Now where is your hostage?”
Hexagon just stood there, glaring at him defiantly. He’d already lost both his hostage and the painting, so there was absolutely no way for him to win this, even if he did get away. And from what he’d just said, he no longer had the juice to even keep fighting. Still, he wasn’t just giving up, so I had to admire that at least.
Just then, there was a loud cracking sound that drew my attention upwards. Then as I watched, a chunk of metal from the warehouse rafters suddenly snapped and fell, right onto Hexagon. There was a deafening crash as it hit…and a huge mess. One glance was enough to confirm that Hexagon hadn’t survived it.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at Hexagon’s body, feeling a little stunned at the weird accident that had just killed him. Alistaire Duccard’s enemies had all died in strange accidents, and Hexagon had been convinced that it was due to a demon...a demon that he had been trying to make a deal with. If I’d had any doubts about the existence of this accident causing demon before, this had removed them.
“Now for you,” Chickenhawk said, finally turning his attention to me. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m finally taking you in…”
I braced myself to deal with his attack, but suddenly, he just staggered instead. “Ah don’t think so,” Alicia exclaimed, standing by the warehouse entrance. She looked a little uncertain at first, and she was holding her arm where she’d previously been shot. However, in spite of that, Alicia gave Chickenhawk a defiant look and stated, “Ah’m not letting ya take her anywhere…”
“Let me introduce you to the girl that Hexagon took as a hostage from the museum,” I smugly told Chickenhawk, who looked at Alicia in surprise. “She has a pretty nifty trick, don’t you think?”
“The hostage…?” Chickenhawk repeated, obviously confused. “What are you doing? She’s a criminal…a villain”
“Ya might be a hero,” Alicia said, looking nervous yet still defiant, “but Imp saved mah life twice. Ah’m not gonna let ya take her…”
“Thank you for the help,” I told Alicia, appreciating it more for Chickenhawk’s reaction than anything else. I was about to say something else, but then I heard the police sirens a short distance away. I frowned for a moment before asking, “We didn’t have the music up that loud, did we?”
This time, it was Chickenhawk who smirked. “I knew you were leading me into a trap, so I made…arrangements. If I didn’t call within fifteen minutes of arriving, the police were to be notified of our location.”
“Ooooh, sneaky,” I commented, definitely approving.
“I am bringing you in,” Chickenhawk said again.
“We don’t have to fight,” I pointed out. “I take out a rival, you stop a dangerous villain and rescue the hostage, and she gets to go home. Everyone wins…” Then I gestured towards Hexagon. “Except Hexagoner that is.”
I looked over the scene of our fight, noticing that all of Hexagon’s hired gunmen were gone, having snuck out early in the fight. I was pretty sure that Deliria had departed with them. Muscle was gone as well, having left in just the last couple minutes. I knew that if he took off his costume and deflated back to normal size, he could step into a crowd and disappear. He’d done that very thing numerous times before. And then there was Crash Test Dummy, who was sitting in the middle of the warehouse floor, holding his stump.
Chickenhawk took a step towards me, no longer under the effect of Alicia’s power. He was being cautious, probably trying to decide what tactic to use. I just smirked, swinging my tail back and forth. My confidence made him hesitate as he considered what I might be up to.
“You know,” I said, “The dummy over there is going to need some medical attention. The police are going to need some statements about what happened here since you do have a dead body and all. And of course, the girl is going to need someone to look after her arm and get her home to her family. You can’t do all that and chase after me at the same time.”
Alicia snickered at that and then covered her mouth to try hiding it. Chickenhawk was obviously not happy, but he couldn’t deny the fact that I had a point. After all, he was a hero, and I was pretty sure the hero handbook said something about taking care of hostages and the injured as soon as possible. Of course, he could try to catch me first, but he knew me well enough to know that I’d lead him on a merry chase, then simply ‘teleport’ away when he got too close, resulting in nothing but wasted time for him.
I winked at Alicia, then started backing away, singing a little something from the Sound of Music. “So long…farewell…auf weidersehen…adieu”
“This isn’t over,” Chickenhawk snapped in frustration.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I responded with a roll of my eyes and an exaggerated sigh. I flashed him a grin and promised, “We’ll continue this next episode. See you then…same Imp time…same Imp channel…” And with that, I did my smoke bomb thing and vanished.
Alicia looked around with an expression of surprise…and oddly enough…of disappointment. I felt a little disappointed as well, since after spending a couple days with the kid like that, I would have liked the chance to at least say a real goodbye. However, the situation didn’t exactly allow for it, not with Chickenhawk standing right there.
“Can ah really go back to my folks?” Alicia hesitantly asked Chickenhawk.
“Of course,” Chickenhawk told her with a gentle smile. “But first, I think you should have someone look at your arm, and I’m sure the police will have some questions for you as well.”
I remained where I was for another minute, then as Chickenhawk led Alicia out of the warehouse and to the police who’d just arrived, I turned and made my own exit through the back door. It didn’t take me long to reach the spot where I’d hidden my bike, and after that, I was on my way home, eager to get a hot bath and something strong to drink…not necessarily in that order.
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New York, Saturday morning, April 14th, 2007
Being a thief was an exciting and challenging career, one with high risks but great rewards, and where no two jobs were ever exactly the same. One job may require me to scale a skyscraper and then let myself in through a window, while another might mean crawling through an air duct or cutting my way into a vault from beneath. And then there was my current job, where I simply walked in through the front door.
I was in disguise, using my magic medallion to hide my odd features, then adding glasses, a blonde wig, and a professional looking outfit to the mix in order to present just the right image. To anyone who saw me, I merely looked like another business woman who was staying at the hotel while I was in town. Few people bothered giving me a second look, and those who did were all male.
It was late at night, or more accurately, the early hours of the morning. Most of the hotel residents were asleep and the hallway was completely empty at the moment. I’d already taken the liberty of neutralizing the security cameras, so there were no witnesses as I casually walked up to a hotel room door and listened. Once I was sure that it was clear, I picked the lock, then extended my aura through the door in order to nudge the deadbolt open as well. Mere seconds after I started, I slipped inside.
Though I crept through the dark hotel room while humming the theme music for Mission Impossible in my head, I was actually deathly silent. I knew the occupants were still present and I didn’t want to risk waking them. After all, getting caught that way would have been really embarrassing.
I stopped in front of the large TV that hung from the wall and decided that this was the perfect spot. With that, I carefully took the painting I’d brought with me and placed it in front of the screen. The painting had recently been created as the first piece from a young amateur. It wasn’t that attractive to look at, but what the artist lacked in skill, she’d made up for with enthusiasm. In fact, I was so pleased by Alicia’s efforts that I’d even provided a nice frame for the painting.
After Alicia had left the painting behind, I’d been tempted to keep it as a reminder of my young houseguest. However, it had been her first piece, and I suspected that she would have wanted to keep it as well. That was why I’d gone through this effort to bring it to her, placing it so that she and her parents would see it first thing in the morning. Of course, I could have mailed the painting to Alicia or just dropped it off at the front desk, but this was much more fun. And with that, I carefully slipped out of the hotel room, even locking the deadbolt behind me again as I left.
I left the hotel a few minutes later with a broad grin on my face, wishing I could see their faces in the morning. I hadn’t been able to say goodbye to the kid, so I figured that this would do instead. If nothing else, it should leave them all wondering how I got in with the door still locked from the inside.
Having Alicia as a houseguest for a couple days had been very strange, but surprisingly pleasant. I wasn’t used to company, or with having other people in my personal space, but oddly enough, her presence hadn’t really felt like an intrusion. Instead, it had been nice to have someone around, and a lot of fun being able to share my passion for art with her.
Then my thoughts turned to the other paintings, such as Waking at Dawn, which was being held by the police as evidence, though it and the other pieces were to be returned to the museum in just a couple weeks. It would probably be a few more weeks after that before they were back on display. However, I was considering whether or not to break into the police evidence locker so I could take the piece home with me again.
Of course, there was also the painting that had occupied so much of my attention during the past week…the portrait of Alistaire Duccard. Since Alicia had already been freed, I could have gone through with the trade and given Hexagon the painting in exchange for Chickenhawk, however, one look at the back of the painting would have told Hexagon that it was just a forgery. I spent a couple days making the copy, though I hadn’t included any of the magic notes on the back.
That spell Hexagon was working on was dangerous and I hadn’t wanted to take any chances at all that he’d be able to complete it, even without Alicia. After all, the entire point of the spell was so that he’d be able to kill all his enemies, and after our encounters, I knew that I would have been near the top of that list.
The truth was, I didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting their hands on that particular spell either. I had a lot of enemies, or at least a lot of people who were less than happy after I’d relieved them of some of their financial and artistic burdens, and didn’t want to take the chance that one of them might ever find that spell either.
Destroying the painting would have been the simple solution, and quite easy to do while it was in my possession. However, Muscle had been right when he said that I couldn’t destroy a piece of art, or at least not an original. That was why I’d created the forgery to destroy instead, and why I’d done so in front of multiple witnesses. Now as far as everyone else was concerned, the painting and the spell that was hidden on the back of it were destroyed. The real painting was safe in my condo, and I’d tuck it away somewhere even safer once I had the time.
I was feeling quite pleased with myself and my cleverness as I made my way down the sidewalk to the place where I’d left my bike, positioned for a fairly quick getaway if necessary. I’d actually driven to the hotel in a ‘borrowed’ sports car, and it was still parked in valet parking, where it would remain until the valet realized that no one was picking it up.
“It’s so easy to steal a car when everyone is running for their lives,” I mused with a chuckle.
Earlier today, or more accurately…yesterday, there had been a huge fight where half the super heroes in New York became involved. Everyone from the Empire City Guard to Miss Liberty had gotten caught up in some giant free for all, which meant that I’d avoided that entire area like the plague. Most people had either locked themselves inside or had run away as far as they could, but a lot of enterprising criminals had taken advantage of the opportunity.
“And I got a really nice car out of the deal,” I reminded myself, even if the thing had been too much trouble to keep. After all, it had been a bit flashy, and though I was a professional thief, most of my contacts specialized in handling items that were a little more…compact.
When I finally reached my bike, I paused as I suddenly noticed the nearby graffiti. The sight of graffiti was nothing unusual, however, this time it really caught my eye. Someone had spray painted a circle onto the wall, with little devil horns on top and a squiggly devil tail from the bottom.
“My symbol,” I said in surprise.
I walked closer to the graffiti so I could get a better look at my logo, then frowned at the sight, wondering who put it there and why. Had some gang decided to mark their territory with my symbol? If they had, then I would definitely need to have words with them.
“That’s copyrighted, trademarked, patented, and…,” I paused for a moment, scowling in annoyance as I tried to think of something else that fit. “And I claimed dibs on it. If someone is trying to steal my symbol, I’ll sue…or cut of their balls. Whichever hurts more.”
The fact that my symbol had been spray painted on the wall definitely had my attention, but any questions about that could wait until later. For now, I had more urgent matters to consider, namely one final task I had to perform before I could go home and grab a glass of wine before bed.
My eyes narrowed and my tail twitched back and forth as I thought about Bob, the ‘buddy’ who sold me out to Hexagon. Bob’s betrayal resulted in my being tortured, and in Alicia and I both nearly being killed. Now that I’ve finished my business with Alicia, it was time to have a little talk with Bob. With that, I climbed onto my bike and grinned evilly, and as I drove off, I was humming the tune for the song Mack the Knife.
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Whateley Academy, Monday April 16th, 2007
Elizabeth Carson, headmistress of Whateley Academy was in her office, sitting behind her solid wooden desk. Franklin Delarose, the head of school security was sitting at the side of her desk, using the desk to hold the laptop he was entering notes into. They both looked to the third person in the room, the girl whom they’d just spent the last half hour questioning about the events that occurred while she was away from school.
Alicia Thacker squirmed uncomfortably under the scrutiny, knowing that they told her this was just a debriefing, but students didn’t usually get pulled out of class and sent to see Mrs. Carson unless they were in trouble. The fact that Chief Delarose was there too only served to confirm her worries. But so far, all they’d done was ask her about what had happened on her vacation, and neither had said a word about detention yet.
“So,” Delarose said once Alicia was finished. “Basically, you were kidnapped by a super villain, rescued by a second villain, kidnapped again by the first villain, and then rescued a second time by the second villain.”
“Yeah,” Alicia agreed with a nod. Then she grinned and added, “And Imp was really nice too. Ah mean, after she saved me the first time, she brought me home, fixed up mah arm, and taught me how ta paint…”
“Okay,” Delarose responded with a faint smile. “Imp saved you…then gave you painting lessons?”
“She was really nice,” Alicia repeated defensively. “And she knows a whole lot about that art and paintin stuff.”
“I imagine an art thief would,” Mrs. Carson responded wryly.
Alicia just grinned and continued excitedly. “Miss Imp told me all about this Monet guy from France and how he did this whole impressionist thing… He’s got these really pretty pictures too, but ah guess he mostly liked paintin pictures of ponds and stuff. And she told me about a bunch of other artists too. Ah never knew there were so many different kinds of paintins…”
“Okay, Miss Thacker,” Mrs. Carson said, cutting her off. “Thank you for answering our questions.”
Alicia hesitated a moment, then asked, “Am ah gonna get detention?”
“No, you’re not in trouble,” Mrs. Carson assured her with a gentle smile. “But next time you go on vacation, please try to avoid getting kidnapped again.”
“Ah will,” Alicia promised.
“Good,” Mrs. Carson told her. “Now you’d better get back to class.”
Just as Alicia was about to step out the door, she paused to muse, “Mah roommate is from France, so ah wonder if she’s ever heard of this Monet guy… Ah guess ah’ll have ta ask her…”
Once Alicia was gone, Mrs. Carson rubbed her temples and commented, “She certainly was…enthusiastic.”
“And not exactly a student I would have picked for being interested in French impressionists.” Delarose chuckled lightly, then half joked, “Well, you did say that you’ve been looking for a new art teacher…”
Mrs. Carson gave him a flat look, but after several seconds it turned into a calculating one instead. She leaned back in her chair, tapped her nails on the desk, then admitted, “I had a brief run in with the Imp a few years ago…”
“Really?” Delarose asked, more as an indication to continue than out of surprise.
“If I remember right,” Mrs. Carson told him with a sigh, “she was annoying but relatively harmless.” She sat there for a moment with a thoughtful expression, then said, “I want a full report on the Imp. Everything that you and your people can find on her.”
“I’ll put Everheart on it,” Delarose responded, not at all surprised by the task.
“Good,” Mrs. Carson said, letting out a faint sigh. “Now then, who’s the next student on the list…?”
The end…for now