Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (35 page)

Mull pointed to a small tag on the
box reading; “Do Not Open Until X-Mas, From Your Friends at Drews Department
Store.”  He/she placed it in the pile of bags of money and stacks of gold bars
that the other members had already brought back.

A moment later, Poacher stormed
into the room looking very worse for wear.  His clothes were singed and still
smoking, his face covered in soot.

Wyatt stared at him questioningly. 
“What the hell happened to YOU?”

Poacher absently tossed several
more bags of stolen cash into the corner and flopped down in his chair, a cloud
of soot and ash billowing up from his costume.  “Little fucking bitch teller at
the bank hit the silent alarm, and the cops and fucking capes tried to stop me. 
Had to blow the fucking bridge to get away clear.”  He looked over at the
folding table.  “Shit.  Cake.  Awesome.”

Wyatt’s smile disappeared.  “You
blew up a bridge?  Were there
people
on it at the time?”

Poacher shrugged dismissively as if
that question were just so crazy and unexpected that he hadn’t even thought of
it before.  “Pfft!  Shit, I don’t know.”  He waved offhandedly and helped
himself to half of the angel food cake which Amy had made, and then paused in
front of the devil’s food cake which Emily had baked…but decided against it,
and left it untouched.  “Maybe.  I think most of them prolly got the fuck out
of Dodge when I opened up on the cars with the Kaiser to distract the cops. 
People
usually
don’t stay around long when I’m shooting at ‘em with a
fucking
elephant gun
.  I know the Liberty Chopper sure as hell didn’t,
not after I put a hole in its windshield and motor.”  He held up a fork and then
crashed it into the cake with a crashing sound.  “Should have seen those little
fuckers jump out before it blew.  HA!  Assholes.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed.  “Did I or
did I not
specifically
tell you NOT to fight the heroes, and ESPECIALLY
not to engage the police, and to just run if either showed up?”

Poacher opened a bottle of beer and
took a long swallow.  “And did
I
or did I not tell
YOU
to go fuck
yourself?”

Wyatt gritted his teeth.  “We do
not
kill random people, Poacher.”

Poacher scoffed.  “Maybe
YOU
don’t.”  He shook his head at the other man’s apparent idiocy.  “Jesus.  This
ain’t the first bridge I blown, you know.  I know what I’m doing.”  He took off
his pith helmet and tossed it onto the table.  In its band was a singed gray
feather.  “Besides, I got the money, didn’t I?  Had to shoot a bird to get a
feather to use to fly here, but I followed your pussy-assed plan to the
letter.  …Basically.”

Poacher possessed enhanced senses,
strength, and reflexes, and he could exhibit the abilities of any creature
whose skin or fur he wore.  In this case, he had apparently decided that the
bird’s ability to fly was needed in his escape. 

Harlot winced as she recognized the
color of the trophy sticking out of the hat and put down her Egg Nog
Champaign.  “You shot a
pigeon
with an elephant gun?”

Cynic broke out laughing and made a
gesture pantomiming an explosion with hands, and made a “boom” sound.  He
laughed hysterically, almost choking on cake. 

Poacher pointed a finger at Cynic. 
“Hey!  NOT funny, jackass!  Killing animals is
serious!
”

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his
nose.  “But not killing
PEOPLE
apparently.”

Poacher finished off his beer and
absently tossed the bottle it in the general direction of the trash without
looking.  He reached for another bottle.  “Shit no.  Fuck’em.”

On the other hand, there were
CERTAIN aspects of his life here that he probably wouldn’t miss if he left…
WHEN
he left…because he was most definitely still leaving, just not for a little
while.  Poacher, for instance, was not someone he would miss overly much
if…WHEN that day came.

A short distance away, Roach cut
Hench off in line for more cake and Hench silently looked down at the floor. 
The elderly man turned to glare at him.  “You got a problem, sonny?”

Hench opened his mouth and then
closed it.  “No, sir.”

Roach spat on the floor in disgust. 
“Grow a backbone, you spineless turd!  We never would have put up with this
kind of thing back in the day!  NO ONE cuts off a VILLAIN!  We would have
locked you in a room, and beat you until you either died or grew a fucking
pair!”

Hench straightened, obviously
trying to impress the older man by following his advice.  “I said; I’m in line
here, Sir, so back off! I’m getting cake FIRST!”

Roach shook his head sadly.  “Oh,
big man yelling at the old cripple.  In my day, we had
respect
for our
elders, you ungrateful shit!  I remember this one time, I was no older than
you, and joined The Binder’s team.  He took me under his wing.  Showed me the
ropes of the villain game.  He looked at me once and he said;
there are only
three rules in villainy!   One; You don’t…. 
And then I shot him in the
face with
a fucking shotgun filled with buckshot!  BLEW HIS WHOLE GODDAMN
FACE CLEAN OFF!  NO ONE TELLS A VILLAIN WHAT TO DO AND…” 
He started
wheezing.

Mayfly placed a piece of cake on
her plate.  “Now Papa, remember your heart.”

He rolled his eyes, and continued
screaming at Hench.

Wyatt took a sip of his drink and
nodded.  OR Roach.  He probably wouldn’t miss that evil crazy old man either.

Across the room, Librarian was
ignoring Lord Sargassum as he yelled about something.  The man towered over
Marian, gesturing around the room wildly with his golden trident.  “…This is an
insult!
  I cannot believe that I am being insulted by mortals!  MORTALS! 
I am a
GOD!”

Marian checked something else off
on her paperwork, paying absolutely no attention to his rage or the weapon
being swung inches from her head.  “Correction: you are a
demigod
.”  She
rearranged her glasses.  “
Allegedly
.”  She moved to walk around him, but
he shifted to block her path.  She paused and slowly put down her pencil,
preparing to do…something. 

Julian apparently didn’t want to
risk finding out just what she was preparing to do, and quickly moved aside
before she could act. 

She casually picked up her pencil
again, and resumed writing on her document as she strolled away.  “The fact
remains that upon your insistence on the matter, I have examined the
ingredients in those crackers, and I can assure you that they contain no
actual
goldfish, despite their brand name.”

He pointed at the bag.  “Then why
is there an image of sea creatures on the packaging,
Marian!?!
  This is
unacceptable! 
Mortal surface dwellers have raped my domain for far too long! 
I will
not stand for this outrage!
”

She made another completely
disinterested sound, and continued her work. 

Vaudeville chuckled at the scene
and tossed a box at Julian.  “Here ya go, Jules.  Animal crackers; nothing but
land animal shapes in there.”  He smiled.  “Go nuts.  Payback’s a bitch!”

Or Julian and Librarian.  He
wouldn’t miss them either.

At the other end of the room, Troubadour
started playing an aggressively cheerful dance beat and Harlot clasped her
hands together and dashed over to where Wyatt was sitting.  “Come on!  We can
dance!”

Wyatt frowned.  He didn’t dance. 
Dancing was stupid and a waste of time.  He was NOT dancing.  “Okay.”

His frown deepened.  Uh-oh.  Why
had he said that?  He was apparently in sooooooo much trouble here.

Harlot dragged him to the “dance
floor” which was actually just an area in front of the big view screen on the
wall, and he began to awkwardly shuffle around with her.  He had absolutely no
talent at it, but she was pretending not to notice; still chatting with him
excitedly about their newfound success as crime lords.

He placed his hand on the side of
her face and met her gaze.

Oh hell.  Who was he trying to
kid?  He wasn’t going anywhere, was he?

She stopped talking and looked back
at him, standing on her tiptoes as he leaned in to kiss her.  Her soft lips
pressed against hers as the music stopped.

Yeah.  He could stand being here a
while longer.  No hurry at all.

She gave him one more quick kiss on
the cheek and then hurried off to talk to Tut about his new motorized scooter. 
The bandaged man was spinning doughnuts in his chair, raspy laughter coming
from his bandaged face.

Wyatt sighed contentedly and
readjusted his birthday hat.  What a
great
party.

He heard someone behind him and
turned around to watch as a middle aged couple wearing pastels strolled passed
the door to the war room, followed by a young girl and a couple of teenagers. 
The man walked by carrying a large cardboard box labeled “Bedroom,” then
backtracked and glanced back in at the party.  He walked towards Wyatt, a
friendly smile on his face.  “Hi there!  Chip and Helen Sanderson, and these
are our daughters Julie and Brittany, and our son Noah.  We’re just moving in. 
Are you the manager here?”

Mrs. Sanderson looked around the
interior of the war room.  “This room is just lovely!  I love the floors, don’t
you, Chippy?  So shiny!  I hope that our place is done up like this!”

The man nodded.  “Oh, you betcha,
Helen!  That would be swell!”

Wyatt blinked at them.  “…Okay. 
Umm…Mr. Sanderson?  Don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

Cynic pointed a finger at them.  “
WHO
THE FUCK ARE YOU FREAKS!?!”

The eight year old gasped and
looked up at her mother.  “Mommy, that man said a
no-no word
.”

Mr. Sanderson nodded.  “Yes, I
heard him Julie.  I’m sure he’s very sorry.”  He cleared his throat and
refocused on Wyatt.  “Now, since we’re all going to be neighbors, I really
don’t think we should get off on the wrong foot like this. 
No-no words
are not something we like Julie to be around.  They’re not neighborly.”

Wyatt’s brow furrowed, and he
glanced at Cynic and then back at Mr. Sanderson.  “Neighbors? 
YOU
are
moving in
HERE?”

Mr. Sanderson handed a box of his
belongings to his wife and pulled out a sheet of paper.  “Absolutely.  We
signed a lease for an apartment here yesterday, from a…Mr. Benedix?  He gave us
a very good deal.”

Wyatt sighed.  Traitor.  Perfect. 
Traitor had apparently rented out his quarters to the Sanderson family while he
was waiting in jail to get rescued.  He had leased his room in a super-villain
secret lair, to an entirely ordinary and pleasant suburban family. 
Perfect.
 

Wyatt reached out to shake the poor
man’s hand.  “Well, welcome to Volcano Crater Lair…
Apartments
, Mr.
Sanderson.  Help yourself to some cake.”  His mind raced as he imagined all the
things he needed to warn these unfortunate people about.  “Don’t anger Meg,
don’t touch the Puffin, don’t eat the meatloaf, and for the
love of god
don’t let your wife or teenage daughter near Poacher.”  He thought for a
moment.  “And don’t join the book club.  In fact, this week it’s
Bridges of
Madison County,
so I wouldn’t advise going anywhere
near
the
cafeteria on Wednesday.  It won’t be pretty.”

Mr. Sanderson looked around in
confusion at the odd assortment of people attending the party.  “Just what kind
of building is this?  Are you people all actors or something?”  He glanced at
his wife and smiled.  “I haven’t seen this many colorful outfits since we went
to Branson last year, Helen!”  The couple laughed merrily.

Wyatt shook his head.  “Umm…No. 
Not quite, Mr. Sanderson.  I really think you and your family would be more comfortable
in a hotel or…”

Julie jumped up and down in
excitement, her tiny hand pointing towards something.  “Daddy!  Daddy!  Look! 
A lizard man!  Can I pet him!?!  PLEASE!”

Mr. Sanderson patted her on the
head as he walked back towards the door.  “Maybe latter princess…maybe later…” 
He raised his voice so that his teenage son could hear him.  “Noah!  Come on,
son!  Let’s go get this stuff unpacked!”

The teen reluctantly pried himself
away from staring at Enmity’s costume, and hurried back to help his father with
the bags.  The oldest daughter snapped her bubble gum, rolled her eyes, and
then followed her parents.

Wyatt shook his head sadly and
looked down at Harlot.  “I almost feel bad for them.  Those poor people.”

She laughed.  “Oh, we’re not that
bad.  You get used to us.”

He cut himself another piece of
cake.  “That’s what I mean.  The only thing scarier than the craziness here is
not being bothered by the craziness anymore.”  He ate a mouthful.  “
Terrifying.
”

She playfully swatted his arm and
giggled.

He looked around the room again at
his…family?  He could do worse than them.  Probably.  Wyatt had no experience with
families.  No idea what the word really meant.

He’d never been a man of
extravagant dreams though.  In fact, this was actually the best day he could
ever remember having.  He woke up this morning next to a beautiful woman,
helped her achieve one of her life’s goals, and now he was at a
real
family celebration.  All in all, a pretty good day.  Until today, the only real
contender had been a Fourth of July he’d spent with his parents and Peter. 
They had a picnic, and watched fireworks over a country pond.  …It had all been
staged as part of a magazine article about ‘Capes in their off hours,’ of
course, but Wyatt was always willing to overlook that little detail.  For those
two hours, it was the life he’d always wished he’d had.  His parents were there,
and weren’t fighting each other or anyone else.  Being outside and allowed to
be
himself
, was an almost entirely new experience for him.  He could
just be Wyatt, without the cape.  For one afternoon, he was the man he’d always
wanted to be.  He’d never felt so…alive.  He sat at one of the picnic tables,
and had watched the parade go by, while he and Peter shared a beer.  An
excellent memory.