Staring at the board again was so fun, as was crunching the marker against Nebula's face. A pity. She was pretty. But no matter now. Now for my new target.
Spinning around on my chair like an evil villain, I tapped my chin with the pen.
I wanted my next attack to be truly destructive this time. One that would shock the world! My current targets had been too casual, too mediocre. I admit that was my mistake—it's not my fault the heroes are so corrupt and terrible.
Looking online, I had seen my two attacks had barely made a dent in the news. A couple of articles about a local super dying to a nameless villain. I mean, they didn't even get my name! Useless, really. Not my fault they weren't smart enough to figure out my persona.
Then my eyes trailed down the faces that I had marked, staring down each and every one of their smug faces. I needed a good target this time. An awe-inspiring one. Iron Knight had been a Unique Level. Nebula, just a special. One level above Iron Knight then. A King super, as the UHA classified them as.
After a moment, I realized I was staring at just the target. His face was young, with blond hair, a chisled chin, and bright golden eyes. A speedster super, named White Thunder, King rank, who ranked among the highest of recorded supers in the world. His real name was Henry Alimon. He was a contracted super of the UHA, who spent his time containing villains in the former United Kingdom.
In his free time, however, he was a child trafficker. One of the worst souls out there, even among supers. Disgusting piece of human filth. He made massive amounts of wealth simply using his power to transport people. In the chaos of this new world, he had thrived without any watching.
Except me of course.
Now, how could I defeat him? His gift was special, a speed gift that was difficult to deal with. But who was I? Was I not the greatest villain? I simply needed a show, a trick. Showing him that his power was useless.
And he had a family. That bastard, showing his family that he was good, when in reality—he was one of the worst. I used my gift of sight. Pain erupted out of my eyes, blood staining my blindfold. Not a terrible cost, but still, enough. But I had seen it.
A wife and a child. His wife was a super as well. Just a special rank, named Glitter. Her power was controlling lights. She had helped run his criminal empire. But the child—was innocent, I supposed. But still, there were two. A wife and child. That I could use.
I just needed an exciting event. Wasn't this fun? I laughed. Not weirdly. A cool, imposing laugh that echoed as I spun around in my seat. Truly, this was fun, fun, fun!
***
Vermila stared down at the girl's body, her head beside it. Photographs were being taken of her limp body.
"Damn it," she muttered. The second this week. Iron Knight had been the first. Now the same villain had killed another. Were they related? Murderers happened every day, supers less so, but times were rough.
But the anomaly was that the supers hadn't fought. There wasn't any sign of struggle. Iron Knight had drowned. The special agents had said he had used his iron ability in water. Nebula here, she had the power of flight. In most situations, she could escape. But her head had been cut off so neatly that there was no sign of struggle.
Vermila began to bark orders to her incompetent team. They were useless buffoons who couldn't think for themselves.
Staring down at the river, where remnants of the two ferries were being cleaned from the river, Vermila felt something was different. All the villains she had caught—Dark Storm, Lady Nightingale, and more. They were all evil, corrupt, sad. But hearing the situation, she couldn't feel as though she was missing something. Everything was too sterile, too easy.
She had to go back and find more. Anything. And find who the next target would be.
Turning around again, she yelled out to her subordinates.
"Someone come over here and photograph this. Now!"
***
"They are beautiful, right?" I asked the girl sitting before me.
She murmured a small yes.
Indeed, this was White Thunder's daughter. I patted her small head, but she didn't seem to like it. Oh well. What could I do if she didn't like my blindfold?
"You're going to wear the same thing!" I told her, as nice and sweet as possible. I tried my best, really. I waved a piece of black cloth over her. "No need to worry."
The little girl, Sophie, was her name, had tears well up within her eyes. Oh no. Her lip quivered as her head began to shake, looking around.
"Am I going to die?" Her voice came out, shaking and tired. "Are you a villain?"
"I'm not, I'm not," I said. "You don't have to worry."
She stared up at me, her great eyes tearing as she looked down at the rope tying her to the chair.
"What is that then?" she said, whimpering. She was looking at the metal box that read: explosives.
"It's not explosives, I promise," I said. "Really. Do you trust me?"
She shook her head. Now she was really crying. Oh no. Tears began to pour down her cheeks. I admit, I panicked a little. I had never been a kid like her.
I looked to the two other chairs beside her, with three men tied to them as well. Beneath their chairs, the same box reading explosives sat with them.
"Have, have a good time!" I messed up; I really did. I blurted out something before moving out of the abandoned warehouse.
It was still before dusk, and the sun was rising just above the horizon. I could see the train tracks in the distance. I began to walk, whistling all the way, with the detonator in my hands. Did I like explosives too much? Maybe. But what did it matter?
The city was just waking, with city goers beginning to grace the street with their meaningless presence, most likely going to work. There, ahead, I spotted commotion from on top of a bridge.
Walking over, a hood over my head, I pushed past the crowd to the front overlooking the small bridge. The train tracks ran like wires down beneath. They weren't beautiful, to be honest, just ugly-looking things that ran down across the broken stones.
I was jostled by the surrounding people who crowded the bridge, looking down as well. A man in a fat suit screamed out loud.
"There's people on the tracks!"
Another young woman, a student it seemed, screamed as well, as though responding in an opera.
"A villain attack!"
Such lambs they were, innocent little things. I couldn't hate them. They were regulars after all, those without gifts, who awoke, worked, then slept, repeating every day in a cycle.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. There were people on the train tracks. It was totally not me, of course. I had totally not broken into White Thunder's home and kidnapped his wife and his child. I had totally not tied his wife up on one set of tracks, tying 10 other regulars who were unfortunate enough to be awake in the morning. I had totally not carried them onto the tracks and put them in the way of a scheduled train just as the morning rush was beginning. Nope, not me at all.
Now, there was a glee that filled me. It was going to be so exciting. Any minute now, White Thunder would come running this bridge, after seeing his wife and child gone. Courtesy of a letter, of course, from yours truly. Oh, right, not me. Hypothetically.
Ah. I saw White Thunder. Seeing, I say relatively, because he used his power to almost teleport here. I also used my gift. He seemed dumbfounded, looking on the tracks, as he saw the tied-up people. As people around him began to murmur, staring at the superhero, he was just about to go and save them.
But of course, how could I let so much fun escape?
"Mr. White Thunder!" I exclaimed out loud. "I'm so happy to see you! There's your wife—oh wait." Don't worry, I hadn't messed up my script. "No. Wait a second." I grabbed a phone from my pocket. On it was a livestream, showing his daughter tied up in the abandoned warehouse."Here's your daughter! And here's a detonator!" I took out my detonator, wavin git around. "You see these buttons? One press, and by random chance, one of those people will explode. Kaboom! Splatooy! Rawr! And you recognize your daughter, right?"
White Thunder had thunder on his face. See what I did there? Anyway, his face contorted with anger, and I could see him about to charge. He was fast.
"Ah wait a second!" I said. I waved the detonator around for dramatic effect. "If you use your gif—power, I'm gonna press this. You wouldn't want that now, wouldn't you? Would you risk it?"
He stopped for a second.
"You fucking villain. I'm gonna rip your head off." His voice was oh so scary.
"So threatening. If you don't believe me—" I started to use my power, "come test it out! It's gonna be so much fun!"
Now, if I were any ordinary villain, I would be dead. White Thunder's gift is superspeed after all. But I had the gift to see. To see anything that I desired. And what did I desire? I desired to see a second before he activated his gift.
I could see the future. In a millisecond, White Thunder would come and rip my head off, before saving his family. But I couldn't allow that, could I?
"I told you not to use your gift," I said as I saw in slow motion his gift activating. "Boom."
I pressed the button, but I saw nothing on his face. Then a second later, I saw him glance down at the livestream. He stopped, his feet in midair.
"You bastard," he said. He was about to step forward, activating his gift.
"Ah! Again," I said, and I pressed the button. I heard screams erupting from the phone as another explosion rang out. White Thunder's foot stopped on the ground, cracks forming.
"How are you doing this?" he said. "What do you want?"
I waved the detonator, acting as though it was about to slip out of my hand, before catching it again.
"My power," I said, tapping my forehead.
As White Thunder paused, grimacing, I could see him scanning around the place. The crowd had spread too far a distance on the bridge, forming a small semicircle around us. It was time for the show.
"Ah, White Thunder! You have a chance to save your wife." I waved my arms dramatically, flourishing them toward the train tracks. "There is a train coming in—" I checked my nonexistent watch. "Two minutes. Now, you see that lever there?" I pointed to a lever that was positioned a far distance on the other side of the bridge. "That will divert the train away from your wife and to those innocent civilians on the other. Ten to be exact. Will you sacrifice your wife for the greater good? Or save those civilians that you love so much? Of course—if you try anything, I will see it. From now on, if I press the detonator, your Sophie will die. One thousand, one hundred percent, die! So exciting! Enthralling! Isn't it so?"
White Thunder looked to the gathered crowd. Most had phones, recording the entire conversation. My identity would be leaked. But I needed people to see. To truly see.
"Good morning, citizens!" I hope I didn't look scary, blood pouring out of my eyes, as I turned toward the onlookers, who recoiled back as though I was a snake. I wasn't that bad, right?
"As you can see here, White Thunder is faced with an impossible situation! How will he handle it?" I was pretty good at this, I think. I mean, all these tears and frowns were just upside down smiles, right? "What will he do? What will he do?"
White Thunder seemed stuck. Looking at his wife on the train tracks, then the people on the other side, before looking at the crowd around him, their phones recording. Then he looked at me.
"You sick villain. Do you gain pleasure from this?"
"Oh no, oh no," I said. "Pleasure? Heavens, that would be terrible, evil, wicked, all at the same time! This is to show the people! In the end, are you Gods? You are imposters, a prideful, sinful anecdote of humanity that illustrates every individual grotesque spirit of humanity. You are not gods. You are humans. Despicable, reactive humans, babies with superpowers, who act as moral, righteous saints, but in the end, are merely—mortal."
Silence reigned for a second at my glorious, awesome speech. I slipped the notecards away. It wasn't my fault I had written my script with such difficult words.
With a flourish, I clapped my hands again, looking at my nonexistent watch.
"Ah, a minute left! So what will you choose? Save your wife or the people? Or perhaps both, but kill your daughter!" I pointed to the screen lying cracked on the floor. The crackling video still showed the explosives, ready at any moment, as I waved the detonator in his face.
"After this, I will murder you, villain," White Thunder said. I swear, he's said the same thing like five times. His eloquence was surely worse than mine.
Then, with my gift, I saw him activating his power. He ran off, in a split second, slow motion in my eyes, toward the lever in the distance. He flipped it, away from his wife, toward the struggling people on the other set of tracks.
"And he has chosen!" I said, looking at the crowd, who seemed more horrified than ever. Many were looking at the skies, calling the UHA. But I knew there were still minutes away. Enough time for my spectacle.
On the horizon came the train. A winding, monstrous-looking thing, yellow painted scrapped off its rusted metal as smoke billowed from its pipes. But if you noticed at all, it was not heading for the tracks of the regulars. It was heading for his wife.
"You bastard!" I heard a faint cry. White Thunder had noticed it as well.
Honestly, this guy was an idiot. How could he trust my words on which track the train was coming? He had killed his wife. He had switched the train from the people to his wife. The blood was on his hands. What if he hadn't switched the tracks, pulled the lever? I guess we'll never know.
I could see him panicking. His gift fizzed around as he attempted to pull the lever. But I had activated its lock. It would not move. And he didn't have super strength—just speed.
I saw him shaking as he looked at his struggling wife. Any other man would have rushed to save her. But he did not. Like the coward I knew him to be, he stood there, by the lever, unwilling to risk his life. Perhaps, in his mind, he was justifying it through his child. But that didn't mean much to me.
The train slammed forward, its wheels pumping, as cries of horror came from the crowd around me. The train slammed into the woman super. She was dead.
For a moment, I thought I felt something hurt within my heart. As though I had done something wrong. Seeing White Thunder stand there, dumbfounded, I almost felt something. When my planned derailing of the train crashed, heading for White Thunder, I could almost see his expression. When it too slammed into him, I almost wondered: was I doing wrong?
And then I realized—they were monsters as well. This was their punishment. They had done evil. They deserved it.
I turned around, toward the crowd. Most had run away. But to the few that remained, I bowed, a flourish of my arms that was elegant, noble in a sense.
"Thank you for watching," I said.
With those words, I ran off.