15: Rescue and Regret

Last time in And When Two Villains Woo, John Cute recruits D.E.R.P. agent Peter Hawkins to track down the Malevolent Med-Student, who himself is celebrating Candystriper’s apparent defeat of Captain Happily Married; meanwhile, Sam Superlative Jr. has been forcibly taken into custody via sonic cannon for the murder of Android Pete! We return to our story in a moment, but first, a short commercial word:

Sam Superlative Jr. had never been arrested before. He had never even gotten so much as a parking ticket before. In a superhero family, so far as he knew, getting into trouble was just something one didn’t do. That was part of how one maintained the bright and shining line between Us and Them, Capes and Villains, the Heroic Defenders of the City and the Diabolical Villains who merely want to Blow Stuff Up.

Life is complicated, however, which is one among many reasons why Sam was now lying unconscious in the infirmary of the Penitentiary for Enhanced-Risk Persons, and why his father, Mr. Superlative, was receiving the absolute last phone call he had ever expected to take. “I’m sorry,” he rumbled, “My son is where?”

The P.E.R.P. official on the other end flinched and fell back on his script. “He’s been taken into custody of the Pentitenitary for Risk-Enhanced Persons under code U.S.C. 27 section 881 dash 939; due to incidents surrounding the detainment he is currently in the infirmary but a legal officer has been assigned the case and I will be happy to refer you to-”

“No need,” Mr. Superlative said. “I’m on my way.” In the old days he could’ve slammed down the receiver; as it was, he stabbed the End button on his smartphone with such fury that the phone shattered in his hand. He was used to this; he grabbed a replacement from the phone drawer on his way out.

He broke the sound limit and then some on the way over. Most of Edison City’s residents ignored the abnormal thunderclap in the middle of an otherwise sunny day: it was a superhero town, someone was always breaking the sound barrier or throwing a titanic punch or doing some other thing. The villains kept their heads down and hoped whoever it was wasn’t coming for them; meanwhile, the cape comms network lit up with chatter.

“Guys, guys, someone’s in my airspace!” the Mauve Mosquito yelped. (Technically she was on the other side but this was an emergency and besides sometimes she lent out her services for sting operations). “Wait, no they’re not, never mind!”

“Holy-dang! Whoever that is, they’re clocking!” Titanium-Alloy Guy said, half in admiration, half in envy. He hadn’t gone that fast even with his juiced-up rocket boots, not as yet anyway.

Samuel J. Superlative thundered into the Penitentiary for Enhanced-Risk Persons in full tilt wrath of God mode, cape snapping in the wind. He didn’t even bother landing at the entrance compound to check in and go through the rigorous visitor clearance procedures. He had already swept the place with his super-vision; even unconscious, his son’s higher than normal vital signs shone like a proverbial Christmas tree. Mr. Superlative dived down towards the infirmary before the guards had even finished powering up the sonic cannons, much less getting a lock on. At the last second he banked sharply, crashing into the laundry rooms and demolishing a bank of washing machines. He leapt to his feet, unharmed as usual (though he couldn’t say the same for a whole mess of inmates’ uniforms), and with the force of his flight and dive alleviated by the impact of landing, smashed right on into the infirmary itself.

A P.E.R.P. doctor looked up from a small desk, startled. “Hey, you can’t-”

Mr. Superlative swept past him without a word. He found his son a minute later. Sam looked battered, but more or less unhurt, almost as if he was resting. The fact that he looked injured at all, his son, his nigh-invulnerable son…

He scooped Sam up in one arm, raised the other, and flew straight up and out through the ceiling and away from the P.E.R.P. as fast as he could go. They were headed home.

---

Meanwhile, back in the secret lair of the Malevolent Med-Student, Candystriper was, somewhat nervously, about to bring up the subject of what her employer (and maybe possibly something else which under normal circumstances would absolutely cross a whole bunch of lines but supervillainy was all about line-crossing, wasn’t it, she said to herself) had said a short while ago. “Hey,” she said, wondering why now of all times she had to get all jumpy, “Hey, boss, um-”

“YES!” the Malevolent Med-Student said. They had ordered in pizza and drinks and were playing a video game involving laser blasters and zombies; the Malevolent Med-Student had just blasted the leader zombie guy. “You know, had I the Pharma-Death Beams in this, it would’ve been much easier to blast through the zombie horde than these laser things. Don’t suppose you can program in a code that gets me the Death Beams in the game?”

“Sure thing,” Candystriper said. “I’ll get right on that.”

“Excellent!” the Malevolent Med-Student said. “Well, I think that’s about enough celebration for me. Tomorrow, now that we’re back here with the thrudanium in hand, we begin work on the Soul-Sucking Scope-O-Sadness! Then…” he smiled dramatically, leaving the sentence unfinished, and swept away.

“All of Edison City will be yours, boss,” Candystriper said to the empty air. “Yeah. Will do.”

She padded off to her own quarters, flicking the light switch off in the hideout game room as she did. Alone in the dark, the game system turned itself off with a slow, sad beee-ooop.

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