Villain for Hire, a Haremlit Slice of Life Adventure, page 1
Villain for Hire
Bad Girls Abound
Jay Aury
https://twitter.com/aury_jay
Villain for Hire and its contents are copyright 2023 by Jay Aury. All rights are reserved and no portion may be reproduced aside from brief quotations for review purposes. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold
or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,
please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did
not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your
favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard
work of this author. Cover artwork done by twitter.com/aithlinnn.
All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or situations is coincidental.
Index
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Bank Heist
Oh yeah.
This is where the fun begins.
I blew off the doors of the bank with a magnetic blast, ripping them from their very hinges and flinging them across the room, shattering a teller’s protective glass. A woman screamed and patrons scattered as I floated through the doorway, cape fluttering about me, my metal armour humming as I repelled its magnetic field off the floor. Through the V of my visor, I looked down on Metro City’s First National Bank.
“Cower mortals!” I roared, my helmet amplifying my voice with that wonderfully imposing echo, my fists rising at my sides, magnetic power crackling around me like a nimbus of blue energy. “For I, Magneron, have come for you!”
People fled in a rush out the emergency exits and the hole I left. I let them go, of course. Hostages always made things messy, and were unnecessary for a job like this. I drifted over the desks, letting my power lift random objects, sending them floating about me in a halo of junk. People always loved that bit. Ah, and there were the security cameras. Good. Undamaged and rolling. I pretended to ignore them as I made my way towards the vault.
Nice.
It was one of those classic giant metal ones, the door like an iron plug in the wall. Wonderfully ferrous. I loved to see that kind of classic still around. I stretched out my hand towards it and felt the magnetic tug. Oof! Fucker was heavy, but I knew my stuff and started to pull.
Metal groaned and bolts popped. It would have been easier to just disassemble the whole damn thing with a couple of gestures, but that’s not what people wanted to see. They needed some real drama. Something big and impressive. Something that had the look of awe to it.
And I delivered.
With a sound like an explosion, I wrenched the whole damn vault out of the wall and swung it about, letting it float in the air, my hand puppeteering it.
“Hold it there, Magneron!”
Ah, perfect timing.
I turned my head to find Electrica standing in the ruins of the doorway. Her skin-tight yellow and white costume clung to her curves in all the right ways, lifting her impressive bust, the symbol of a lightning bolt on her chest, a window cut in the fabric giving a glimpse of the valley between her breasts. Her blonde hair crackled with the buzzing static of her superpower, sparks fluttering on her tanned arms, her eyes challenging behind her domino mask, her hands planted heroically on her hips.
Excellent. A real professional. And she looked damn good too. I don’t know why superpowers gave people figures like they were sculpted by the gods, but damned if it wasn’t good to look at.
I spotted the crowd through the wall, phones up, cameras recording. Perfect. See, that’s why you made the massive hole in the building. It gave the audience a good view of the fight. Too often super battles took place high up in the sky or in enclosed spaces where no one could see. Fine if beating evil was the objective, but when a hero was trying to build a name for themselves, the more public the fight, the better.
“Well! If it isn’t Electrica!” I said, my voice booming. “Come to try and thwart my scheme once more, eh?”
“I’ll do more than try!” she shouted back.
Hmm. Banter could have used some work, but the lightning she was forming in her hands were solid starters. I swung my arm, magnetic powers lifting a table up by its many metal nails. When she hurled the crackling thunderbolts at me, I swept the table into their path. The explosion when they collided was deafening, blasting splinters and charred chunks of wood everywhere, papers fluttering to the floor like the feathers of an exploding pigeon.
“Not bad, hero!” I shouted, dropping the vault. It hit the ground with a thundering bang and threw up a cloud of dust. I moved my arms to my sides, every scrap of metal in the bank humming as my powers gripped and lifted dozens of objects off the floor. Trashcans, pens, chairs, some lamps, anything metallic and small to medium. “But not good enough!”
I flung a bunch of office junk at her. Electricity erupted around her as she lifted into the air like a reverse lightning bolt. Dammit! Not only did she miss a golden opportunity to show off a big blast of electricity, but she was flying too close to the ceiling! She was right out of sight of the cameras.
I descended to give her more room to maneuver and flung a number of the chairs at her head. In dodging them, she dropped back into sight and pushed her palm out towards me. I recognized the gesture and quickly raised my hands, forming an electromagnetic barrier. A stream of lightning snapped from her, dispersing against my shield and spitting all over the ground around me.
I held the barrier, the air crackling with magnetism around me. It was a good show. Made her look strong.
But if I looked weak, that was no good either. A hero was only as good as their villain, and I was an expert at foe craft.
My hand swung back and I grabbed another massive desk in a magnetic grip. With a gesture I flung the whole thing at her. Electrica failed to see it in time, and the desk slammed into her, throwing her across the room.
“Shit!” I hissed. I’d hoped she was paying more attention.
I heard her groan under the table. Okay. That’s okay. Things could still salvaged. She needed a chance to recover, and there were plenty of ways to let that happen.
Evil monologue time.
“Hahaha!” I thundered, rising once more into the air, gathering a nimbus of crackling magnetic force around me. “Fool! Did you really think your measly spark would be enough to stop me? I am Magneron! Master of magnetism! The very elemental forces obey my commands.”
Cries came from the civvies outside as Electrica grunted, throwing the table off her, staggering to her feet. Ohhhh, she looked pissed. Static rolled off her in licking tongues, but I could see she was barely on her feet. Damn. I’d hoped to milk things a bit more, but I couldn’t risk her collapsing here.
“That may be. But I am the storm!” she shouted, throwing her hands forward.
Yeesh. That was pretty cliché, but whatever. Time to go.
Another blast of blazing thunder flashed from her. Instantly I conjured another magnetic barrier, the clawing lightning breaking around my bubble.
“You still had… this much power in you?” I shouted over the crackling in the air. “No. No! Damn youuuuu!” I shouted, hurling myself backward, letting her lightning carry me straight into the air. My barrier crashed through the ceiling, ripping a hole right through it and sending my hurtling into the sky.
I let the force of her attack carry me a fair distance into the air, out of sight of any lingering eyes, then pushed the magnetic ball out, letting the last of the static dissipate harmlessly around me.
For a moment I floated there, admiring the distant hole in the bank’s ceiling and the milling crowd below, rushing inside to congratulate their heroine.
Well, that was my job done.
I brushed my outfit, pausing when I spotted some singes to my cape. Oh great. That wasn’t coming out in the cleaners. I sighed, but all told, it still went pretty well. I dropped out of the sky, buzzing down into an empty alley a number of blocks away from the bank. As I landed, I used my magnetic powers to pull my ridges of armour back, letting them recede into the bracers around my arms and ankles, the helmet folding back under the collar of the dress shirt I’d worn under the suit. I smoothed the shirt and swept my cape off, folding it over my arm and patting it out. Ouch! Static cling. I tapped a nearby fire escape, letting the buzz dissipate.
Well, that was done. Another day, another dollar.
With a last look around, I slipped out the alley and joined the foot traffic, by all appearances just another schlub among the crowds of Metro City.
Just another day’s work as a villain for hire.
Jobs New and Old
The four rules to freelance villainy are as follows:
Always wear a mask
Never hurt civilians
Never kill the heroes you’re paid to fight.
And the bad guy always loses.
Seems pretty obvious, right? Well, you’d be shocked at how m
See, if you wanted a peaceful life outside of suiting up, you needed to follow the rules. Anyone could menace Metro City with a gigantic death ray, but when the death ray blew up, the lair was in ruins, and the heroes were hunting you down, you couldn’t exactly stop by the local coffee shop and pick up a muffin and a frappe. You’d not only have the heroes on your ass, but the cops, and probably even a bunch of government spooks.
Besides, there was no money in it.
Most people thought villainy was like Dr. Dementor, with his floating castle and army of robotic minions, but that guy had both his own small European country and diplomatic immunity with which to menace Captain Fantastic.
Me? I had an apartment, a costume, and a bank account always on the verge of empty.
But them’s the breaks. And it beat prison. Fortunately, freelance villainy was always in very high demand. A lot of heroes had their brand deals, and those brands demanded exposure. Most heroes were walking endorsements, and they needed to be seen doing good. But there were never enough alien invasions to fill out the calendar. Weeks could go by without some lunatic getting his hands on a doomsday device, and what are heroes supposed to do in the downtime? There are only so many muggers.
That’s where I came in.
I was the filler villain. The Guild of Villainous Foes weren’t exactly lining up to knock over banks. Those guys generally had their arch enemies to menace or real super villainous plots to carry out. But heroes needed something to fight in the downtime. I was that. The monster of the week who fought the good guys and vanished after one episode. The floater villain who showed up across comic books for maybe an issue to demonstrate the new hero’s powers, get beat, and make way for a recurring antagonist. I had no ‘arches’ and I wasn’t part of anyone’s rogue gallery. I was non-exclusive, and could show up anywhere, menace anyone, all for a reasonable price.
It was tough work, but someone had to do it.
I yawned, popped my shoulder with a shrug. Oof! That was gonna be stiff tomorrow. I shouldn’t have taken that static blast head on like that, but hey, that’s what people liked to see. And being Magneron wasn’t the worst job in the world. Best a guy like me could get with a criminal record. And you needed a particular kind of person to do this job, and do it well. Not too many people can take the hits the right way. A notable percentage of those who got into the business did so because they liked getting their ass beat by a goddess in latex. You could always pick out those kinds, usually by the copious amount of leather they use for their costume. But me, I was a professional. No bullshit, no baggage. I went in, caused havoc, lost, and vanished while swearing vengeance that’d be useful to puff up the next encounter. It was a pretty good job.
Besides, it was fun.
Sure, I got my ass kicked by heroes all the time, but could you imagine a job where you get to not only concoct evil schemes, but carry them out? Some guys did the bare minimum. Hold the mayor hostage, maybe throw a few cars around, but that was beginner stuff. Above all else, you had to make the menace look good.
And I made it look good.
Walking down the street with a coffee as a reward for a job well done, I didn’t strike fear into the hearts of mortals. Sure, I was fit, maybe even a bit handsome though I wore the helmet when at work, but in civvie dress, I tried not to draw the eye more than necessary. Certainly not as the type of person who strokes a Snidely Whiplash mustache and plots the downfall of his foes, complete with copious property damage. Out of costume, I was just a guy.
And that’s the way I liked it.
I heard my phone go off and flipped it out. “Hello?”
“Excellent work, Victor!”
I grinned. “Thanks, Miss Carter. Just the usual.”
“Quite so. Electrica was quite happy, and even managed to plug the new anti-static cling laundry pads that Razer has been working on. But would you mind stopping by the office?”
My smile fell a little. Uh oh. That was never good… “I ah-“
“Great! See you in ten.”
She hung up. Shit! She never had me stop by right after a job unless she had a complaint, or was working some angle. And considering how pleased she sounded, I doubted it was the former.
I picked up my car and drove uptown, reaching Razer Industry’s building in short order. Glazed with black glass, it towered with art deco arches and windows like the Chrysler Building crossed with an iPhone and Sauron’s Tower. A mass of dark, corporate power surrounded by cement, some trees, and a couple panhandlers near the fountain with a giant sleek R as the centerpiece. Allegedly, the whole thing was built back in the 1880’s when superpowers first began appearing during the age of scientific discovery, when men first managed to build the sorts of science whose accidents can cause people to melt steel with their eyes, or disfigure themselves with the more interesting acids. I didn’t know much about that, but Razer was the biggest heroic marketing company in the country, if not the world.
As I walked inside some security goons in tight sweaters, high collars, nametags and holstered guns nodded stiffly at me from behind the massive desk that loomed over the lobby. If I couldn’t sense everything metallic in that room, I’d have sworn those people were robots. Not entirely uncommon with the bigger corps. Kept the headcount down and you didn’t need to cover dental. I hit the elevator for the fifth floor. The other people in there gave me looks. I must have still smelled like ionized air. Haah. If only I could have gone home and got changed first, but that ship had sailed. Carter was not a woman you kept waiting.
I reached the fifth floor and passed some offices and assorted plastic shrubbery before reaching the end of the hall, where Carter’s office took up a full corner of the floor. Another sleek black desk that looked like polished onyx pushed out of the wall and had a woman seated behind it.
“Julia,” I said, greeting Carter’s secretary.
She looked up, dazzling me with a smile. A set of glasses like a visor wrapped around her eyes, likely one of Razer’s newest products. Her hair was short and styled back in a bun, everything about her tight and crisp like she measured her hair with a ruler. Her smile was professional but with a touch of real warmth that was nice to see. “Victor! Excellent. I’ll let Miss Carter know you’re here.”
Julia rose smoothly, her skirt riding high along her thigh as she vanished through the door, leaving my in the foyer. I shrugged, sitting down, knowing how long I waited would entirely depend on Carter.
And I wasn’t alone.
I felt a pair of eyes watching me intently. I looked to the side to find a young woman in one of those uncomfortable leather chairs beside a table with some out-of-date magazines. She looked professional, sitting there in a tight fitting and spotless white dress, and over that a grey blouse and a heavy but expensive looking jacket. Strange in itself, because it was pretty warm in the building. Her hair was bone white and the sort of style you didn’t see outside of Mad Men reruns. Her hands were folded on her lap, her whole figure radiating a tension and weird intensity. Especially her eyes, the clearest blue I’d ever seen, and which were staring right at me.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello. You must be Victor.”
How the hell did she know that? “Uh, yeah.”
She beamed, her pale face lighting up. She was pretty cute when she smiled, I had to admit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Glacia.”
“Oh,” I said uncertainly. Weirder and weirder. “Cool.”
I rocked back in my seat, the silence growing heavy. Damn. I’d never been good at small talk, but much to my relief to door soon opened and Julia stepped out, smiling.
“Miss Carter will see you now,” she said.
I rose gratefully. “Thanks. Nice meeting you,” I said to Glacia.
“You too,” she replied with a bright smile.
Geeze, I could feel her eyes drilling holes into my back as I moved past Julia and shut the door behind me.
Carter’s office matched her perfectly. Huge yet imposingly empty, the only furnishing was a couple chairs in front of a desk before a glass window from which she could – and often did – look down with contempt upon the world and the people scurrying in it. Shelves swept along the walls, filled with strange cultural artifacts and doodads like voodoo heads, and pieces of warped stone art that were probably worth more than some small countries.
