Villains Inc. (Wearing the Cape) - By Marion G. Harmon
Chapter One
Before the Event, weapons of mass destruction, nuclear, chemical, and biological, remained beyond the reach of terrorist
organizations. Terrorist attacks by individuals, although explosive-enhanced, could only be perpetrated against soft targets.
The Event has changed everything; now super-terrorists can strike anytime, anywhere, and even assault or stand off conventional
military forces. Worse, Verne-type superhumans are often capable of making more exotic weapons of terror. Some, particularly of
the save-the-world ecoterrorist flavor, are highly motivated to do just that. A perfect example is the Godzilla Plague.
Sir Arthur Moore, War in the Heroic Age
* * *
“Nuts!” I swore when the godzilla came over the harbor wall.
Beside me the Bees, their eyes wide as saucers, watched it pull itself up. Lake-water poured off of its sides.
Then Megan snickered. “Nuts? Is that seriously the best you’ve got?”
That—and the screaming crowd—broke the spell for Julie and Annabeth. It was a beautiful spring day and I’d had no duties, so
all three Bees had dragged me to Navy Pier for Chicago’s first warm weekend. Things were getting better, but after the last four
awful months they were still in “Don’t let Hope mope” mode.
So of course it was our turn.
The creature splashed into the harbor, rocking ships as it half-swam, half-waded towards the pier, and the Bees clustered in
around me as the rest of the weekend crowd turned into a fleeing mob. News-footage of the other attacks hadn’t really prepared me
for how big it was, and I fumbled in my bag for my earbug.
“Hope?” Shelly queried when I got the earbug in.
“I’m on the pier!” I responded, reaching out to grab Annabeth when a rude man and his date shoved her out of their way.
“You’re there? Cameras just caught it—how fast is it coming?” My BFF and Dispatch wingman, Shelly sounded calmer than I was.
“Not fast, but—” Behind me the park music died. Looking back, I saw the Ferris wheel jerk to a halt, cars swinging. My earbug
snarled and popped, but—thank God—didn’t die too. “The critter’s electromagnetic pulse field is working, just like the ones
that hit Tokyo and New York!”
“Is there somewhere you can change?” Lei Zi broke in, cool as ice. I looked around.
“We’re outside the Grand Ballroom, and I don’t have my Astra costume under my shorts—I’m not Clark Kent!”
“Rush is bringing your gear to you. Find somewhere private.”
I relayed her message and Julie pointed to an abandoned kiosk. “There!” she yelled, and I pushed for it through the mob as the
Bees hung onto me. We reached it and I started stripping; I didn’t like Rush, but I had faith in him. The Bees formed a human
curtain, blocking the sight of anyone coming around the kiosk, and Rush arrived in a blur of red motion. He thrust a black bundle
into my hands.
“Gottagocheckthebuildings, makesurenobody’s leftbehind!” he said, pausing long enough to wink at Julie before disappearing.
Kicking my shoes away, I finished pulling off my summer shorts and top, thankful again for my decision not to update to the
spandex and pleather bodysuit Andrew had designed for me. Even done completely in black, my classic high-necked, long-armed,
micro-skirted costume still made me look like a figure skater in a cape, but it was easy to get into.
Except for the half-mask and attached wig; when I turned around Julie gave the mask a straightening tug before grabbing my
discarded stuff. A roar of ear-splitting decibels filled the air and the pier shook. “Time to run screaming,” she said. Annabeth
gave me a quick hug. “Wax its ass,” Megan snarked, and they ran for it, racing down the pier after the retreating crowd.
I watched them run before launching myself into the air.
“Shelly?” I said. “Keep an eye on them?”
“I’ve already tagged their cell-phones—if they stop moving I’ll know. The team is on its way.”
That was the best she could do; I put my worry away and turned to the crisis at hand.
“We’re on an inland lake!” I yelled to be heard over the monster’s roar as I got some altitude. “Tokyo and New York I
understand—how did a godzilla get here?”
“The Teatime Anarchist’s future-files say godzillas were dropped as eggs all over both hemispheres from 2003 to 2015, in deep
water. Once hatched, they stayed out of sight till reaching their full 300 foot length and laying a few eggs of their own. Then
they zeroed in on the nearest source of temperature or pollution spikes in the area. It’s probably attracted to the runoff from
the Chicago River and the heat pollution from the nuclear plant.”
“You think?” No cars moved in the streets as I looked down—engines killed by the EM pulse.
“Every other cape in town is on their way. The police are responding with their EMP-hardened unit, but it’s going to take time
to get it together and out to the pier.”
“They should have invested in some airlift!” I looped around and came in low, mindful of its primary reported weapon: a jet of
high-temperature hydrogen plasma.
“Leaping lizards,” Shelly whispered.
The monster heaved itself onto Lakeview Terrace at the end of the pier. It looked like someone had asked the wizards of Hollywood
to make a “thunder lizard,” and they’d delivered by slapping a T-Rex and an alligator together and inflating it to impossible
size. Scales colored shades of green, it looked really striking. If you got past its teeth. Its big, big teeth.
I shook it off. I didn’t have to worry about getting crunched—chomping on me would be asking for extreme dental surgery. Its
super-heated plasma attack was my problem; I could take a hit from a tank shell, but the godzilla’s breath could melt steel.
Fortunately, the bad experiences of others also told us it started on big stuff first; anything smaller than a bus wasn’t likely
to attract its attention and rage. Unless that small something attacked, of course.
As I dropped down it opened its mouth and bathed the Grand Ballroom in a jet of laser-intensity flame. The building exploded into
burning wreckage, and I felt the wash of heat.
My earbug buzzed and popped as I flew closer, looking for stragglers. “Astra, have you made contact yet?” Lei Zi called through
the interference.
“I’m there,” I said, voice thankfully steady. “And it’s ugly.”
She laughed dryly. “Your first priority is civilian extraction. Let it burn the pier to the waterline if it wants—look for
anybody unable to get out on their own.”
“On it, chief.” With Atlas gone, Blackstone had recruited Lei Zi to be our new field leader. Ex-army, she made a good
replacement for Atlas but for this I didn’t need her reminder. “Rush?” I called. “What’s the sitch?”
“TheGrandBallroomiscompletelyclear,” he returned, talking so fast his words ran together like machine gun bursts.
“Theyweregettingreadyforaneveningevent. Workingonthe FestivalHallnow.”
His super-speed evac left me free to take care of the outside, and I forced my eyes away from the godzilla. Looking down, I
scanned the pier-side boats: tour boats, floating restaurants, and a couple of tall ships with furled sails—most full of
weekenders trying to escape. It didn’t look...
I saw the first splash and others followed, pushed right through the gangplank ropes by the panicked crush trying to get off the
boats. Finding the little boy in the water, I fished him out and handed him off to his hysterically grateful mother. Dropping back
down for more swimmers flailing about in Chicago Harbor’s chilling water, I retrieved all but one—an athletic guy who waved me
away and struck out for the lakefront on his own.
Overhead, the rest of the city’s flying capes began arriving. Thank God.
With a bone-shaking roar, the godzilla started on the Festival Hall. A couple of jets of flaming breath had it burning nicely. I
hesitated.
“Rush, are you clear?”
“It’semptynow. Acoupleofinjuries Ihadtohelpalong butwe’reahead ofthemonster.”
He was right; most of the weekend crowd had cleared the pier, fleeing through the parks. But behind us the streets were full of
dead cars. Out of sight the city was full of people trapped in dead elevators, high-rise residents trying to get down to the
streets and out, hospitals full of people going nowhere fast. Most Chicagoans could get out of the way, but not all of them.
We couldn’t let the critter off Navy Pier. I wished Atlas was here.
“We’re arriving now,” Lei Zi informed us. Sighing my relief, I spotted them. An A-class electrokinetic, Lei Zi flew herself as
well as Quin, Seven, and Galatea by electrostatic levitation. Riptide’s flying waterspout came right behind them. Dropping down
to meet them, I couldn’t help laughing as Lei Zi landed the beat-up truck she’d commandeered and they all piled out; somewhere a
groundkeeping crew was missing its wheels.
Lei Zi saw my grin and ignored it.
“Dispatch says we’ve got eighteen fliers on the scene,” she said. “Another fifty or so Crisis Aid and Intervention heroes with
good support powers coming in. Only half a dozen are even close to this creature’s weight—all the rest can do is help evacuate.
”
Listening to the godzilla’s scream as it flailed away at the burning hall, I couldn’t help but agree. Quin and Galatea peeled
off to help the retreating civilians along. Both could take down normal opponents, even street-level villains without blinking; to
the godzilla they’d merely be crunchy.
Seven, hands in his pants pockets, watched the monster advance. I looked up at him, happier now that he was here, and tried to act
as casual. Somehow we’d deal.
I tried a smile. “Do you remember when you said people would like us better if there were alien invasions, giant monsters, or
nasty things from other dimensions that thought humans were tasty for us to fight?”
“I take it back,” he said. He flashed his movie-star smile, eyes on the monster. With his natty hat and sport coat and blond-
haired, blue-eyed movie star looks, he looked ready to go clubbing with the New Rat Pack.
Lei Zi ignored us, studying the creature.
Riptide splash-landed beside us, changing from water to flesh and blood. “At least your dark look will hide the soot, chica,” he
said to me. “That is one ugly mother.”
The godzilla waded through the flaming wreckage of the hall now, bathing in the heat. Its mottled green hide shone, the disk-
shaped ridges running from its crown to its tail glowed, and jets of plasma-breath burned with laserlike intensity. Pyrokinetic
attacks were obviously going to be useless. I looked over at Lei Zi. Electrical attacks hadn’t done much better against the
insulating hide of the one that hit New York.
Seven shrugged nonchalantly. “Since nobody else is going to say it, I am. This is a whole bucket of crazy. Who makes Godzilla
knock-offs?”
“Some pajero who thinks the Big One was a good start,” Riptide sneered and spat.
I couldn’t decide if his aggressive contempt trumped Seven’s casual joking. He hadn’t changed much since trading LA for
Chicago. His long leather coat, with its Pisces symbol picked out in silver-studs, bordered on villainwear, and he still shaved
his head.
“So what’s the plan, chief?” he asked Lei Zi.
She turned to us.
“They lost eight capes in New York before they appreciated its plasma attack. So before we draw its attention, let’s create some
cover.” She gave him the nod. “I want enough harbor water on that fire to blind it. Do it now.”
He grinned and lifted his hands, palms out. A water-spout climbed over the pier to slap itself into the burning buildings, and the
godzilla disappeared inside an explosive plume of smoke and steam. Its roar changed pitch, its plasma-jet winking on and off
randomly. The pier shook as it danced about on its flaming stage.
Lei Zi nodded approvingly. “Your turn, Astra. As hot as it is, its head has to be lit like a spotlight to your infrared vision.
Get some height and drop something on it.”
I fired off a sloppy salute and picked up the grounds-keeping truck. We’d reimburse them later. I headed straight up; Lei Zi had
set me to practicing target drops at the rural practice range weeks ago, when the reports came in from Tokyo and New York.
“She’s told the other CAI capes to stay back for the moment,” Shelly said. Wonderful; the first pass was mine, for the honor of
the Sentinels.
A couple thousand feet up, I looked down at the rising steam cloud. She was right; hidden by smoke and steam, its head glowed like
a light-bulb on the infrared end of the spectrum. I hesitated; gravity could throw harder than I could, but my aim wasn’t very
good yet.
“Lei Zi,” I said. “I’m guiding it down.” And I let gravity take over.
“Negat—” she began, but chopped it off.
I fell with the doomed truck. The pier leaped up, expanding, and I shifted our trajectory as I hit the rising cloud. Almost...now!
With a last nudge I parted ways with my improvised kinetic missile, rocketing sideways with all the force I could bring to change
my angle of decent to something less terminal.
I’d waited a bit too long; even as Shelly gave an exultant “Yes!” I hit the surface of the bay and skipped like a stone,
snapping the mast of a family yacht in passing. I surfaced and spat out water, pushed my cape out of my face, and checked to make
sure my mask, wig, and earbug were still secure before flying back.
The random jets of plasma burned brighter and the godzilla roared non-stop. It might have a headache, but it was pissed now and
still advancing, almost to the parking garage by the amusement park. Drat.
Lei Zi nodded when I landed back at the top of the pier. “Good try. Now—”
“All Sentinels!” Shelly called out. “There’s someone on the Ferris wheel!”
My stomach dropped into my feet as I looked up. We all saw him: two-thirds of the way up on the Ferris wheel, some idiot stood in
one of the cars filming the godzilla’s rampage. At that moment the monster pulled itself up from the burning wreckage to crouch
atop the car park, roaring its defiance.
“Oh shit,” Seven said.
It threw back its head and screamed a challenge. No longer blinded, it was primed for action, and anyone flying through its near
field of vision was toast. Now the fool on the wheel panicked. How he’d managed to stay up there when the other fliers were
evacuating everybody from the park, I had no idea.
Lei Zi turned to us. “Riptide, waterspout to its head! Astra, Seven, you go for the idiot! Go!”
We got. Riptide pulled a funneled wave from the harbor and slapped the beast with it. It didn’t flash into steam, but a water
spout in the eye would distract anything and the monster snapped at the fountaining stream as I grabbed Seven and leaped skyward
for the wheel.
“Move!” Shelly yelled. “It’s tracking!”
We smacked into the swinging car, almost spilling its passenger. Seven clung like a limpet to my back as I reached in and grabbed
the teenage boy scrambling up off the car floor. High-energy plasma cooked the air behind me as I threw all of us down, heading
for water. A crash and roar of frustration told me the wheel was history as I hit the water for what had to be the tenth time that
morning. Reversing direction underwater, I brought us up under the pier.
“So much for the sport coat,” Seven said as I hoisted us all onto a platform.
I slapped my hand over the giggles, biting down on relief-fueled hysteria. Between Riptide’s distraction and Seven’s
supernatural luck, we’d gotten away with it.
The boy shook his camera. “If you destroyed my footage I’m going to sue.”
Seven pushed him back in the water.
We dropped him on Streeter Drive and returned to our improvised forward base at the corner of the Children’s Museum. The godzilla
still squatted atop the parking garage, blasting plasma-jets. The rides and concession stands didn’t so much burn as blow up. I
sighed.
I’d loved that amusement park, especially the Ferris wheel.
Seven dropped his arm and stepped away from me when we landed.
“Safe and sound, boss,” he said.
Lei Zi shook her head. “At least the idiot gave us a way to take the thing down—probably your ‘luck.’“
He looked blank. I’m sure I did too.
“Look at the Ferris wheel.”
The godzilla’s plasma-jet had cut right through it, snapping spokes like thread, slagging cars, twisting the whole thing off its
frame. The shattered frame, a matching pair of pylons, cantered drunkenly—ripped away from the hub they’d supported.
“I don’t... oh.” The left pylon came to a jagged point, making the thing a lance more than a hundred feet long. Oh no.
“Yes,” she said. “If we let it get off the pier this mess is going to become a complete Charlie Foxtrot. The trick is to
penetrate its hide. Do that, I’ll take care of the rest. Can you do it?” The air around us grew sticky with a gathering
electrical charge. Lei Zi’s name meant Mother of Storms, and I could feel her bringing the lightning.
Seven and Riptide looked doubtful, but I took a deep breath and nodded.
“I can do it. Just keep it off of me.”
“We will.”
At her signal, Riptide pulled more water from the harbor. I leaped into the air to drop immediately back down into the park.
Landing at the base of the wrecked wheel, I braced myself, kicked, and the already stressed pylon sheared off at the base with an
explosion of snapping bolts. My heart in my throat, I heard the sizzle and hiss of heavy mega-watts above me as Lei Zi electrified
Riptide’s spray around the godzilla’s face to distract it from the noise I made.
“Go, go, go!” Shelly chanted in my ear.
The pylon weighed tons and I fought to balance it as I rose, swinging around for distance. No jet of plasma burned me out of the
sky, but I desperately wished I were still carrying Seven with me; with him as a passenger, if the thing shot at me it would fall
over its own feet before it hit us.
Riptide’s attack had it biting at the air. It jetted madly, its attention fixed away from me as I came around and dove. Pouring
on all the speed I could, I went in low and fast, aiming below its ribcage and off its bony ridge with my huge and ungainly spear.
It saw me coming, opened its jaws, but I was in and the impact ripped the pylon lance out of my hands. The stricken monster gave a
deafening roar, its armored tail smacking me out of the air as it spun about, and I hit the parking garage roof as the sagging
structure finally collapsed under the enormous weight it had never been designed to carry.
Then the lightning hit with a world-ending thunderclap as Lei Zi let go of everything she’d been pulling in and storing up. She
put it right down the steel spike I’d driven into the creature, and discharge washed over me. Deafened, stunned, I barely felt
the beast fall on me but I heard more crashes as we fell through each level of the garage.
“Astra! Astra! Dammitall Hope, talk to me!”
Shelly. Right. I couldn’t see a thing, and realized I’d been buried. Bright side, the jolly green giant was dead—lying under
the still-twitching thing, I wasn’t hearing any heartbeat or breathing. Its ass had been waxed.
Poor ‘zilla.