Number Two, and Other Stories Pt 2 (Patreon)

 [Author's Note: In case it is not clear, the main character in this story is not the same as in Number Two .]

I looked up as they wrestled her into my study. It took three of my minions to do so, which was fairly impressive, given that any one of the three was more than a match for her in weight, and presumably strength as well. Her hands were tied behind her, and she had a gag tied around her mouth – for what reason, I had no idea – but she was still holding her own. Her foot-stomps and knee-gouges were rather impressive, and I made a mental note to never be caught within kicking distance of her.

Which just left the other problem.

They shoved her to the ground before my desk; I looked at her over my reading glasses, then at my minions. “What,” I inquired, “is the meaning of this?”

The head of my minions, a weasel of a man who was always snivelling and attempting to ingratiate himself with me, no matter how much I asked him not to, approached the desk. “We brought her for you, Master,” he explained.

I sighed. A simple 'sir' would have sufficed, but he insisted on calling me 'Master'. “You … brought her to me?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, Master. You were speaking about finding a way to neutralise the Watchman, and so … “ He gestured at the young woman, who by now was kneeling on my rug, glaring at me over her gag. I hoped that she appreciated the fact that the thick pile was the only reason that she did not now have skinned knees. But still …

Removing my glasses, I massaged my temples. Then I replaced them and looked at her again.

Female, check. Early to mid twenties, check. Striking appearance, check. Impressively heaving bosom, check.

They couldn't have been more complete if they'd been following a list.

“Remove her gag,” I ordered.

The minion standing closest to her made a who, me? gesture. I nodded briefly. Yes, you. Idiot.

“Uh, Master, she, uh bites,” he protested.

Well, that explained the gag, then. I looked at the woman. “Miss, if your gag is removed, do you promise not to bite anyone?”

She glared back at me, obviously not wanting to give me any leeway. Then, reluctantly, she nodded.

“And so,” I told the minion. “Remove the gag. Now.”

Gingerly, he undid the gag, then jerked his fingers away, as if expecting her to snap at him. But she didn't; instead, she continued to glare at me.

“You've made a big mistake, mister,” she snapped. “When Watchman hears about this, and he will … “

“I have no doubt that he already has,” I interrupted. “But that is neither here nor there. I presume from your age that you are his girlfriend or paramour?”

She stared at me. “You don't know?”

I allowed a wrinkle of irritation to crease my brow. “I know many things, miss. There are some things that I choose not to know, as irrelevant. The Watchman's private affairs are one of them; or rather, they were up until this moment. You are, then, romantically attached to him?”

Slowly, she nodded. “My name is Laura Landers, and yes, he's my … “ She took a deep breath. “Boyfriend, yes.”

I nodded. “And I presume that these men abducted you from a public place, making a very visible scene, so as to ensure that the Watchman heard of it?”

Again, Ms Landers nodded. “From my workplace, yes. I'm a journalist, with the - “

“Of course you are,” I muttered, rubbing my temples again. “Why does this always happen to me?”

“What?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

I sighed. “Do you have any idea what the bane of my life is?”

She perked right up. “The Watchman?”

I snorted in mild amusement. “Hm. No.”

“Uh … Adam Force?”

I rolled my eyes. “That poseur? No.”

Laura looked puzzled. “Then - “

“Allow me to answer my own question,” I interrupted. “Forgive me; I did not intend to pose a quiz. The bane of my very existence as a supervillain is overeager minions.” I waved at them. “I was thinking out loud, how to remove the problem of your paramour as a factor in my plans, and they decided to kidnap you, no doubt as a means of keeping him under my thumb.”

She frowned, apparently having trouble parsing this. “You mean you didn't -”

I raised my eyes to the ceiling, being a reasonable substitute for the sky, and the highly doubtful existence of an Almighty beyond. “Of course not. What possible reason could I have had for kidnapping you? I didn't even know of your existence!” Irritably, I gestured at one of my minions. “Untie her, will you?”

“Uh, Master, I -” He gestured at his face, where I now noticed several freshly-incurred weeping gouges. The impression I received was that he had gotten them at her hands.

Unfortunately for him, I really didn't care. “Untie Ms Landers, or when I get the piranha tank restocked, you get to test it out first.”

I wouldn't, of course. Piranhas are woefully hard to keep alive outside of their native environment. If I wanted to tear someone apart gruesomely, I'd use a wood chipper. Easier to acquire and much easier to maintain.

Carefully, he untied her wrists, then hurriedly retreated while she rubbed her wrists. She shot glares at several of my minions, then looked back at me. “So you're not intending to keep me as a prisoner in order to prevent the Watchman from foiling your plans?”

“Good god, no, woman,” I retorted. “Hostage situations are terrible things. They get you despised in the popular media – which I would worry more about if I actually sampled it – the Watchman would do his best to get around whatever restrictions I laid on him, for which I would not blame him, and if there was any sort of rescue attempt, people would get hurt. Most likely, the hostage.”

“You don't sound like any other supervillain I've ever heard of,” Laura Landers replied cautiously. “And I've been captured by at least half a dozen, now.”

“Really?” I asked. “Maybe you should consider a better security setup, then. Perhaps a small concealable handgun on your person. Shoot a few minions, and the rest will back right off.”

I straightened my lapels. “As for be being unlike any other supervillain, I will take that as a compliment. Me taking you as a hostage would do you no good, do the Watchman no good, and most assuredly do me no good. I came to that conclusion a long time ago, and so you are safe from me, so long as you yourself do not take up the superhero trade.” I noted a blinking light in the corner of the screen on my desk, and sighed. “Though I would advise you to move to the side of the room. Now.”

Frowning, Laura did so. “Why do you want me to -”

Her words were interrupted in the most direct manner possible; there were several crashes, starting a few floors above, culminating in one that brought down a good chunk of the ceiling right where she had been standing. On top of the pile of rubble, coughing and waving away dust, was the heroic form of the Watchman, all greys and browns, with that ridiculous cape fluttering into place.

“Aha!” he shouted, striking a pose. “I have you now! Hand over Ms Landers, foul villain, or I'll -”

I pointed. “She's over there,” I told him. “Take her and go.”

He blinked. “What, really?” Turning, he stared as she moved toward him. One of my minions went to intercept her, but I waved him away. I didn't need to lose any more minions this month.

Laura Landers went to his arms, and he held her close. “You won't get away with this so easily,” he declaimed to me. “Kidnapping is still a crime -”

“I didn't have her kidnapped,” I snapped. “I was in the process of letting her go when you broke my ceiling.”

The puzzled expression returned. “That can't be right.”

“No, actually, he was,” she told him. “He even apologised. Sort of.”

“Then the minions who kidnapped her -” he began.

I steepled my fingers. “Will be dealt with. Severely.”

He fumbled for something to say; I had forced him off script, for which I felt obscurely pleased with myself. I waved at the hole in the ceiling. “Oh, just take your girlfriend and go, will you? I've got world domination to plan, here.”

“World domination; that's a crime,” he declared, finding familiar ground.

“Not if I'm fairly elected,” I responded. “Now will you go already? You're making the minions nervous, and I've only just managed to housetrain some of them.”

With a whoosh of wind, he was gone, and with him the winsome Laura Landers. I sighed and gestured to the minions. “Get that cleaned up. Get me a damage report. And get the roof fixed before it rains.”

They scurried into action, and I set about brushing dust off of my papers and computer.

Superheroes. Seriously.

They're almost as bad as minions.

Opposites Attract