In which we start out with me in bed and a foursome of people in skintight outfits enters. Sadly, I didn’t get to start the encounter off by saying, “I’ve seen how this movie goes.”
They pumped the room with some sort of gas to paralyze me while they came in and readied me for transport. I didn’t recognize any of them but Venus. There were four total, with Venus the only one not in these stock Master Academy super suits, their faces hidden behind dark blue masks and dark red visors. Those were the colors for them, I guess. Most of it was dark blue, with a red M stretched across the chest, a red belt, and black outlining and highlights on stuff like the belt loops and the M’s outline.
Perhaps due to my performance with the handcuffs, they ziptied me to the wheelchair I was in, wrists and ankles. They’d be reasonable precautions if I was in decent health; in my current infirmity, it was overkill. They hooked me up to a mobile monitor that beeped on the back of my chair. Sadly, nobody thought to clothe me, or even cop a feel. Shame. I mean it’s really advantageous for a perv like myself that the signature clothing choice for superheroes is so tight.
Those that say it doesn’t leave much to the imagination clearly aren’t using their imaginations right, because it gives mine all sorts of fun thoughts. Like this one lady. She had feathers instead of hair, but the mask’s gap around her mouth showed a lack of lips and scales instead of skin. Though, to quibble, scales tend to grow out from skin, not replace it.
And before anyone says anything, I’ll have y’all know that there is a proud tradition of education linked to supervillainy. A good supervillain has to have some education, hence why Carmen Sandiego did such a public disservice by giving the next generation of villains good ideas about where to steal the best stuff.
I’ve gotten off the topic. So I was in a chair, gained back the ability to feel my body and move it if I’d been in a movable state, and perving on this female lizard lady, when I was like, “Hey Scaley… why do you have boobs?” Because scales and feathers are more of a bird or dinosaur thing, but those don’t normally have a big bouncy pair. Sure, birds are well known for having breasts, and getting those breasts into as many hands as possible is a profitable venture even for those prudes in Church’s, but they don’t tend to be the kind of breasts most people find erotic.
I don’t think, anyway. I’ve seen some people use food that way, and it turns out that isn’t my bag. I know I’ve made some comments about cannibalism, but that’s kind of a separate thing. I mean, generally, that’s for when you don’t have normal food. Otherwise, keep chocolate sauce off any penises I want to use, and keep severed arms and legs out of my mashed potatoes.
Anyway, I asked about the boobs and this one other escort, a guy, tried his best to sound intimidating as he said, “Shut the hell up, scum.” They started to wheel me out of the room.
In lieu of raising my hands and wiggling my fingers in the air with fake shock, I had to resort to finger wiggling where they were. “Oooh, scum. That’s such a scary title. All the people who called me a psychotic madman need to take note of you. I’ve looked into the eyes of kids as they welled up, begging me, ‘Please, Mister Gecko, I don’t want to put the lotion on my skin!’ But now that someone’s called me ‘scum,’ here comes the regret. I can feel it washing over me like the delicious tears of little orphans. It’s the salty sweetness. Orphan tears have just the perfect balance, you see. And if you can keep them locked up well enough, the veal-”
We’d literally just gotten past the doorway when Venus yelled, “Back in the room!” She grabbed the wheelchair handles and whirled me around.
“Wait!” I yelled and she added more whiplash to my problems by stopping on a dime someone dropped on the floor.
She leaned down. “Yes?”
I gritted my teeth. “If I were to say something apologetic, it would reflect my feelings in this matter.”
“Are you sure? I don’t think they heard you,” she told me.
“Good sir, I wish to convey a desire to make amends in much the mater I would tearfully suggest if it were your funeral.” I spoke more loudly so people could hear me. Venus swatted the back of my head, so I added, “Though, ’tis not your funeral.”
“And M-, and the other person you offended,” the male voice suggested.
“I’m sorry to you as well, and would love it if everyone else can give us some privacy us so I can really get my apologizin’ on,” I rocked my head back, trying to back away from the door.
A raspy female voice, which I assumed belonged to the scale girl, then said, “If you and I were alone the way you clearly want, apologizing is the only thing you would be doing.”
That brought a chorus of “Ooohs,” all around, even from me. “Ouch, don’t normally feel something like that unless a hooker’s putting a cigarette out on me. Your wannabe boyfriend could learn a thing or two from you when it comes to insults. I don’t suppose you’re into guys and bondage, are you? Not that I have a choice about the bondage part right now…”
A hand in a red glove settled on my shoulder and squeezed hard enough to reveal the presence of claws. “Sorry, I don’t date humans,” said raspy lizard lady before pulling back.
“Right where it hurts. You’ve wounded me, whatever your name is. Wounded me so bad, I’ll clearly die right now,” I laid my head on my shoulder and stuck my tongue out. The machine beeped on.
“We know you’re not dead, Gecko,” Venus said.
The other guy, who had a deeper voice, chimed in, “Is he serious?”
Venus patted me on the back of the head. “It’s hard to tell, but I think it was an escape attempt. Sorry, Gecko, you still can’t control electrical signals to computers anymore.”
I brought my tongue back in, but didn’t say anything more. “Oh.” I don’t think I quite kept the disappointment out of my voice. “Right… Are we going back in the room already or…? I mean, I know y’all don’t want to do this.”
Venus turned me around, more gently this time. I didn’t look up at any of my escorts as they fell in around us. They wheeled me to an elevator, which went up a couple of floors, and let out into a hallway with windows. I could hear the natural ambient noise of teenagers and children in the distance as I peered out and caught a glimpse of blue sky, white clouds, and a few leaves. “They’re turning already? Seems like it was just summer.”
I’m prone to talk to myself anyway, so I didn’t really expect an answer, but then Venus spoke. “It went by quick. You have to stop and enjoy things while they last.”
“Believe it or not, it didn’t feel like I had that many chances. Spent most of it trying to fix everything this year. Aliens, then y’all wanted me on trial, then I tried to make the world better.” After a moment’s pause, I smiled a little.
The heroes had to have their say. “You were a dictator who murdered people,” said the non-deep guy. If I had a name for him, I guess his costume wouldn’t have done its job.
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt any world leader hasn’t had some blood on their hands. I’m just a failed one that everyone was determined to hate. That same sentiment is why I knew I couldn’t trust any of you to do the right thing.”
“We do the right thing,” The raspy lizard lady began adding her two cents, “You can’t think you help people like we do.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Unlike you, who are all nice and trained for a career at maintaining the status quo by barely keeping the world on track, I tried to change it. To move it forward. It’ll all be reversed in no time. I bet even the nanites will be ignored.”
Venus swatted me on the head. “You brought it on yourself. A good leader doesn’t make things happen by tearing everything down. They build people up, too. You have to help people on a personal level.”
“You’re right. What do I know about helping people on a personal level? You wouldn’t be here to hold me prisoner if I hadn’t saved all y’all’s ungrateful asses, by the way” I responded, then hurried to add, “But, even if we’re in a bit of a disagreement, thank you for this, in spite of me being me. It really made my day.”
The gratitude surprised them. They didn’t have anything to say to that, so I sighed and lowered my head. “Don’t hold this against it against me, ok?” I slid the sharpened shard of plastic out from underneath my wrist and held it up. Just held it up. Someone knocked it onto the floor where lizard lady grabbed at it. I didn’t look for long. Just lowered my head to my chest. The omnipresent beeping behind me slowed, slowed…and then became one long beep.
I felt them turn me. Someone slappd my face. Venus yelled my name, which I recorded in order to add sexy music to later. It sounded like her face was right in front of me. I suddenly raised my head, knocking her upward in her nose, the annoying tone of the beep speeding up into a rapid series. Having already used the plastic, I reached across with a free hand to slice through the remaining ziptie with my fingernails. I reached down and grabbed the wheels of the chair, giving them a hard spin. “Let’s crank this bitch!” I called out before opening my mouth and releasing a rather infamous tone of my own.
For those who don’t remember so well, I was once held prison in a place called The Cube. They removed any and all electronics from me that they could get their hands on, including my eyes, and used a special tone that induces paralysis in order to interact with me safely. My cybernetic vocal chords can reproduce this tone, though doing so really wears on the equipment.
As a result, all four of the heroes around me slumped. The way now paved for me, I left them eating tire tracks. At the end of the hall, I skidded into a left turn. Behind me and to my right, a blast of purple energy struck the wall and turned some of what could be cinderblocks into dust. I heard rapid footsteps as well, so my banshee scream didn’t put them down for long after all. Now firmly in chase mode, I pulled up Sammy Hagar’s “I Can’t Drive 55” on my internal music player and hit it. Almost clipped a middle-schooler, too.
On I raced. Forward, right, left. They’d put a lot of work into the place and I no longer knew where I was going. I couldn’t even use GPS to aim, though it occurred to me that I probably should have turned toward the same direction I saw the leaves at. I took another turn to try and head back around to that direction and found myself speeding through open double doors into a cafeteria. I headed down one side past confused students toward the kitchen doors, figuring to head for whatever delivery area they had, wheelchair access be damned!
Unfortunately, one of the workers closed the doors, which then shimmered with some sort of field around them. I drifted a turn to avoid it, heading behind a couple of those buffet podium things people serve food out of, grabbing a couple of drumsticks. At least they fried chicken ok. Truth is, that’s a weakpoint for me. Probably wasn’t very healthy for a guy whose chest could open up from a hard enough jolt, but I wasn’t in a situation to bother with health a whole lot. I came out the other side to see one of the escorts standing at the doorway, and not one of the pretty ones. Though maybe if he shaved that mustache, I dunno.
I tossed the spare chicken leg I’d grabbed and tossed it at him, yelling, “Food fight!” His shot sent more chicken flying from the podium thingy I’d just gotten out of, but the real fun didn’t start until I grabbed somebody’s abandoned cup of milk and threw it as well. It left a trail of white through the air that splashed onto onlooking students and prompted them to return fire on me, my pursuer, and their own opportunistic targets with whatever edible missiles were close at hand.
I turned at the end of one table to cut across the room. More shots went wild, this time caused by my enemy taking greasy chicken skin to the face. It blasted one of the tables into a steep ramp that nonetheless aimed up toward a second-story window above the double doorway. Granted, the window showed a fluorescent bulb at that angle, but it was better than being cornered.
I spun out in the middle of the floor with a devilish screech, then gunned the wheels as fast as my arms were capable, aiming for the ramp. Just before I hit it, I opened my mouth and used my artificial vocal chords to sound out a car horn playing the first few notes of “Dixie”.
Now, as I went airborne, it feels appropriate to pause here a moment and remember that I had to make some pretty rapid decisions without a lot of time, and shooting for the windows of the cafeteria just wasn’t a viable option with the ramp at that angle. No matter what, that Psycho Gecko was at it again.
Unpause and I crash through a window, now bleeding from multiple lacerations and rather hoping the new soreness in my chest didn’t have anything to do from a particularly adventurous shard. Unable to stop myself very well in that condition, I slid into a room where a teacher showed footage of JFK. “Oswald was framed!” I yelled out as put on more speed to aim for a door on the opposite side of the classroom.
That took me into a darkroom where I saw a surveillance photo of a man with a man with a finned baseball cap taking money with boxes of FEMA personal hygiene supplies all around. I banged against a counter in there, then changed direction and rolled out as quickly as I could. “That guy works for Terrorjaw!” I hit a different door hard and popped it open, probably ruining the photos anyway, but couldn’t stop myself before sliding through an open doorway across the hall.
There, a preteen girl stood with a forced smile, frozen in the act of taking a paper with an “A+” written on it from the teacher. My bleeding, tired ass was heading right for a thick wooden desk, though. I heaved upward and jumped, managing to land on top, though the computer monitor tripped me up and sent me flipping off. I landed on my wheels and slammed through another door, but not before calling out, “She cheated!”
Amazing how all those doors opened outward, though maybe a school for supers just had cheap doors on the assumption that superpowered adolescents would likely break them accidentally. The next one looked like a break room, so I still had no reason to slow down, not even to call out “The Claw’s a dick!” when the news on TV read that The Claw had supported “Queen Beetrice’s” play for the now-vacant throne of North Korea.
Well, I was just saying he was a dick anyway. The full extent of the news graphic didn’t hit me until I was out of the room with formerly-relaxed superheroes standing up and a window replacing an exterior wall right in front of me. This one…actually stopped me. Must have been that skyscraper glass.
“Ow,” I said, attempting to alleviate the pain with understatement. Hearing people approach, I scraped my nails down the window, cutting into it. After reaching the floor and feeling hands tug on my chair, I snapped my ankle ties and jumped into the carved section of glass. It gave this time, sending me out to freedom and the safe landing of a friendly tree.
Except my face stopped a few feet short of the tree. I just stayed there, in midair. Looking around, I spotted the lizard chick holding her hands to her forehead in the standard pose. I think they make heroes do that to indicate they’re using their powers as a sort of warning to others. I didn’t see her for long, though, as the amount of blood that came dripping down onto my face seemed to indicate things may have gone a bit haywire with all the painful glass sticking in me. If she’d spun me around, I could have been a fantastic kaleidoscope.
Then lizard lady went all “Argh!” and I woke up in my room bed. Like I’d just been daydreaming or something, except my internal clock showed twenty hours had passed.
I looked around, feeling all sorts of pain and bandages even from that. I looked at my hands to see my fingers covered in little rubber tips. I tried to pull them off, but I couldn’t. I felt even weaker than I’d gotten used to, as well. My skin had an unhealthy pallor. Also, my chest felt like my heart wanted to kick me in the balls, but was stuck in my chest. It was still trying, but it hadn’t gotten far yet. A check under my gown showed fresh sutures in my chest and some marks on one side that did not look good. I think I opened up the end of the chase.
So I just kinda laid there and let out a soft, “Fuck.”
At least I have time to work on my William Howard Taft slashfiction.
“Ma’am,” the secret service agent said, stopping the curvy blonde bombshell from stepping out further onto the beach. “You can’t go out there. The President is using the ocean.”
She sauntered up to him, laid a wink on him, and said, “I put on this swim dress, but nobody said I’d be riding a wave. Now stand back; you wouldn’t want to get splashed…”