Accidental Villainy 51 (Patreon)

Exploring the secrets of the warehouse was not a simple challenge. It represented a secret cooperation between the New Giant Force and the Elite Syndicate, the premier hero guild and a surprisingly strong villainous team. I knew for a fact that the Syndicate would kill to keep it a secret.  

Worse, I had very little doubt about the Guild following the same path. Of course, they would do their best to hide it either as collateral damage, or by hiding the origin of the assassin, but ultimately, it would end up the same. 

They already wanted to deal with me, but luckily, their concerns held them back. Now, the thing I needed to do was to somehow examine them without raising their alertness. 

Then, inspiration hit. I wondered if the appearance of my redheaded visitor related to why they didn’t deal with me, and not just about my mysterious backing. The warehouse might be more important than I had first assumed, and if other heroes were independently exploring it.

That gave my nonexistent boss another reason to stick around. Their warehouse was bait for the heroic forces, and we were the spiders waiting for our prey. That realization came with a horrible shiver. I didn’t want to see what would happen if the Lady of Destruction connected the dots the same way. 

She might decide to actually deal with us before moving to her real target. 

“Fuck, like things weren’t complicated enough,” I muttered as I started churning out plans, cursing myself for not placing some kind of tracker on her. 

I decided to go for a shopping trip before I could decide what direction to prioritize. I changed my looks twice more, my Observation once again helping me to put the details perfectly. Luckily, paying cash for dubious security equipment was not something that needed to be bothered. 

I had made several purchases. More cameras, some smaller, some with thermal imaging, the best looking remote-controlled rat toy I could find — thanks to a prank shop — as well as several other smaller gimmick items I hoped to somehow leverage as a part of my unusual defenses. 

However, paying eight hundred dollars for a rat toy was annoying even with my recent boost of income. 

Once I returned to the bar, I went into my office immediately, and started fiddling with the rat toy, trying to put a camera in an unnoticeable way, hoping that its presence would go unnoticed in the shadows of the tunnel. 

Luckily, while the rat toy was absurdly expensive, it also came with some good features, including a motion sensor. I just needed to put a camera under it in a way that would avoid notice, and manually control whenever it triggered an alarm. 

Ideally, it would do automatically, but the default behaviors were too aggressive — not surprising considering it was supposed to be an expensive prank item. Hopefully, Emily’s power could adjust it. She managed to redesign a laser cannon. A toy should be doable. 

Once that was done, I used the entrance I kept mostly closed, and let the rat into the tunnel. My plan was to use the remote to bring it to the farthest direction possible. 

It failed. 

Apparently, they didn’t design those toys with deep underground spy work in mind. 

That meant the tunnel was a bust without Emily’s help. Luckily, I already arranged a visit for the expanded dossier, and I could ask her for help with the rat toy then. Ideally, integrating it with some kind of signal booster as well. 

However, that was for the future. For a while, I walked out, wanting to install a few more cameras in some sensitive locations, ideally without being noticed. 

It was fun to watch the reaction of the gang members and henchmen to my presence now that my disguise was gone. They alternated between panicked scampering and respectful nods. It looked like my reputation was growing. As much as it galled me to admit it — as I never wanted to be a villain, even a fake one — it was satisfying to see their reactions. 

Too bad such respect only came with a very high chance of early death. 

The lazy walk helped. It gave me an excuse to occasionally stop by in random spots, though I only placed a camera or a sensor when I was sure I wasn’t being watched — my power was being extremely helpful in that aspect. After twenty minutes, I planned to return, when a car pulled in front of me, and the window rolled down. 

That old man from the Syndicate. 

“I hope you’re not going to offer candy,” I said with a smirk. A simple joke, but also not. It was also a preemptive way of signaling I had no intention of entering their car, and not extending my trust to them. At the same time, I pushed my power, reading his reaction tightly. I was disappointed. But along with it, I also caught some sense of relaxation. 

I understood where he was coming from. By refusing to enter his car, I was implying that I didn’t trust them not to act against me. On the surface, it made sense, as honor between villains was a vogue thing. However, it also implied that I didn’t have the ability to protect myself once I entered their car … of course, the flip side of the argument was that I didn’t fear their capabilities as long as I was out in the open.

Implying the possible existence of another, hidden security. His nervous gaze, wandering around the street for a moment before he could consciously fix it confirmed that. 

It wasn’t what I planned, but I wasn’t unhappy to see it on his face, particularly to see if believed. It played well to the illusion of power I tried to create. Strong enough that dealing required quite a bit of effort, yet not strong or threatening enough to prioritize over their other interests. 

“Certainly not,” he said with a chuckle and got out of his car. “I was hoping that you would accompany this old man for a walk.” 

“It would be my pleasure,” I said, just with enough dishonesty to make him underestimate my acting capabilities. 

“So, how’s the business,” he said. 

“Well enough. Managing a bar is as entertaining as I hoped,” I said, reinforcing the idea that the bar aspect was my personal project. 

“I just hope that it doesn’t keep you from your real mission,” he said, probing me. 

I smirked. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course, my mistake,” he responded with a dismissive hand wave, not bothered by my ignoring. After all, even here, admitting crimes in the middle of the road was not the smartest thing. “How’s your customer variety.” 

“I had some interesting visitors recently,” I said quickly. Clearly, he was aware of my redheaded visitor, and probing me about her. The question was about what he knew. Things would get complicated quickly if he knew about her heroic identity and came to probe me. 

Unfortunately, my observation ability was just that, observation, and not mind reading. 

He was slightly tense at the indirect mention of my visitor, but it wasn’t the intense, visceral reaction I expected him to show if he knew the Lady of Destruction was throwing distance away from his precious warehouse. It was close enough that, even I fought against her in my bar — well, if Tara fought against her — the warehouse might have ended up destroyed as well. 

“Oh, how fascinating,” he commented. “Anyone worthwhile.” 

“Nothing too onerous. Just a rich girl too curious for her own good,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll get bored after a few visits.” 

“And, is there a way to hasten that cycle?” he asked. 

“Not particularly, unless you want to bring more curious visitors,” I said, confirming that she was a spy, implying she was a lower-level agent that could be dealt with easily, while also threatening him with the potentially angering the larger organization behind her by targeting her.  

“I see. Not exactly a cost-effective method, then,” he said. “What if she starts bringing out her friends. A lot of party girls had the potential t

“We believe that by properly entertaining such visitors, their numbers could be kept low,” I said. “We found out that ‘sending’ one away only makes the others more curious. It’s best to make them bored.”  

“Really, is this wise?” he asked. 

I shrugged. “Feel free to deal with them directly … if you want to maintain the integrity of the neighborhood, sir,” I said. 

“Oh, no. I’m just an old man. Dealing with … party girls is a young man’s game. Just make sure it doesn’t disturb the  neighborhood.”  

“Naturally,,” I said. 

“Changing the topic. What’s your favorite color. Yellow or green?” 

 “Neither. I favor transparency … unmarked kind,” I said, finishing the discussion.