Origins of a D-List Supervillain by Jim Bernheimer Page A

she said, putting the pistols on the charging stations so quickly that I couldn’t even follow.
    “Careful when you do that, sensitive electronics! So, what’s the downside to your powers?”
    “Ever been in the line at the grocery store and the person in front of you separates their cart into the part their going to pay with food stamps, the part that’s going on their credit card, and the part they’re paying with a check.”
    “And there’s a price check on at least two of the items?” I added for effect.
    She nodded. “That’s every single conversation I have, except when I’m around another speedster or a telepath like Auntie. You might think you’re quick with your wit, but to me there’re seconds in between every single word you say. Everyone else is in slow motion and I’m the only one moving at normal speed. Drives me apeshit, sometimes! Remember the girl from your movie? I had her and five of her friends because that’s how many I have to have to even have a chance at getting off. You slowpokes just can’t move fast enough for me.”
    “That’s way, way, way too much information,” I protested.
    “Well, I figured the sooner I told you that, the sooner it would shut you up. But since you do such good work, maybe I’ll have you tune up my vibrator. I want to add another five thousand rpms, but I don’t want the damned thing to explode. Whatdayathink?”
    She probably enjoyed the cringe on my face, but I shrugged and said, “If the price is right.”
    Pinching my cheeks like an overzealous relative, Maxine laughed, “Spoken like a true business man! You’re a funny guy, Cal Stringel. Maybe if this business arrangement works out, I’ll let you work on my private toys, but for now, just stick to building pistols. Here are the keys and the address to a storage locker in Huntsville where there’s a duplicate of your order, except for the extra crap you snuck in there last time, and twenty grand. Better get started on the next batch there, Snailman, because I’ll be back for them at some point. Consider yourself on retainer.”
    “Fair enough, Ms. Velocity. Nice doing business with you.”
    Maxine zipped out of the room and up the exit shaft.
    “Too bad she’s a lesbo, Cal,” Bobby said coming out of the hallway from the private rooms. “Otherwise, I think she’d rock your world.”
    “How long were you there?”
    “Long enough to hear that you have your first steady client, not too shabby. It also means you can start chipping in for our salaries at Floozies and for the things you keep saying we need around the base. But that’s why I steered her in your direction in the first place.”
    There went half that money. Bobby wasn’t nearly as stupid as everyone, including myself, made him out to be.
    “How’d you know it was going to work?” I asked.
    “Wasn’t certain,” he said. “Still, you pick up a whole bunch being the hired muscle. Most times you just stand there and keep your trap shut, probably something you’ll have to learn. I can see you having problems with that.”
    I started to take offense, but realized he was probably right.
    Enjoying the look on my face, Bobby continued, “The heavy hitters are so used to having bodyguards and extra muscle around that they stop noticing us after a while. It’s like fishing. You can get a few interesting nibbles, if you’re willing to wait around long enough.”
    “Do you have any other nuggets of criminal wisdom for me today, Master,” I said laughing.
    “Seeing how good those guns are got me to thinking that I need to get you to make me some weapons too.”
    “Are you a decent shot?”
    “Nah, I like hittin’ things too much. I don’t need nothing fancy, just a pair of clubs that won’t snap like twigs when I take a swing.”
    “What about an ax or a sledgehammer instead? I could put a shield generator on something like that.”
    “Nah, clubs,” he said, adamant. “I like the feel of a piece of wood in my