Some days are inherently more interesting than others. It was barely noon and Dr. Girlfriend had already had a fight with her husband, taken a ride in a classic Charger and had the bejeesus scared out of her when Gary Fuu, the former Henchman 21, had played chicken with the recon team her husband, The Monarch, had sicced on her. Who knew what the afternoon bring?
Gary had let her off outside a small cafe. She walked into the outdoor seating, ordering as sandwich from the waitress. Normally she only had a salad with maybe some cottage cheese but today was going to be a long day. While she ate she kept a watch for the silver Lexus her husband's minions had used. As time passed and no car appeared she smiled, pleased that her husband's spies were still trying to get their car out of the marsh Gary's reckless driving had forced them into.
She ordered a large coffee to go and walked back to the alley where she had left the blue Geo Metro she'd used to drive into town. She eased into traffic and made for the Interstate. Out of habit she checked traffic behind her for any tails. Traffic was light and none of the cars behind her remained behind her for long. About twenty miles out of town she reached under the dashboard and opened a secret compartment. She flipped up one of the switches. The car sagged for a moment as the tiny engine labored under a sudden heavy load but as the turbo fan spun up to speed, pumping huge gulps of air into the tiny engine, the engine started to howl, the landscape started flashing by. The little car's stock speedometer was marked to only 90 miles per hour, but switching on the compressor also activated a reduction gear on the speedometer. When the speedometer clocked 60 miles an hour, she was actually going twice that. It was a long way to Las Vegas, and she wasn't good at patience.
Dr. Girlfriend wove in and around the few cars on the Interstate, passing them as if they were standing still. The land around Shopton had been tree-lined with the occasional lakes but the farther she got away from that little oasis the land dried out, became covered with thin dry grass with the random tree in the distance. The road ran straight as an arrow to the Nevada city, riding up low ridges and down into broad shallow valleys.
As she flashed past the occasional car in the opposite lane she reflected on Gary playing Chicken with the minions. He had finally scared the shit out of her doing that. She prided herself on understanding men and being able to control them. At that moment it had felt like she had lost all control over the ex-henchman. Was he really trying to scare the other car into the lake or had he intended suicide-by-automobile?
She picked up a traffic cop as she neared Vegas. The vehicle turned on its flashing red and blue lights and rapidly gained on her. It must be one of those converted Mustang cop cars with a top speed well above most stock autos. She pressed down on the throttle. The howling turbo started screaming. She had to be careful at this point not to blow the head off the engine by using too much compression. The Geo spurged ahead at unguessable speeds, small bumps in the road sending it flying through the air. But the cop car remained on her tail. Crap, she thought, it must have a turbo boost as well. But did it have nitro she wondered as she saw the first outlying housing developments.
She reached into the open control panel and flipped up the other switch, then pushed a level next to it ahead slightly, feeding just a little laughing gas into the airstream. There was a bang and a loud blattttt coming out of the tailpipe and the little car surged forward another twenty miles and hour. The cop car disappeared in the distance and just as it vanished from sight she killed the nitro, killed the turbo, hit the brakes and skidded into the first housing project she came to. She wove a high speed trail through the subdivision before coming out the other side. She changed roads and directions a few more times, before tapping the button that would rotate the license plate on the car to one from another state.
She drove sedately to her destination.
[]
It looked like any other other small commercial office space. Two stories high, generous parking lot and a wood and brick exterior that cried out "80s". Inside an older, heavy-set woman greeted her from the reception desk. Very few people would have recognized her as Beatrice "Honey Bee" Hungarford, former Number Two for Jeff "Yellowjacket" Stingaree. When the Yellowjacket had stung his last foe Beatrice had taken a position "inside" rather than look for another Arch to second for. Whether she recognized Sheila Kowaslski was immaterial. Because Sheila was not wearing her Guild colors and it was policy that no Guild member recognize said incognito member. "Can I help you," she asked, in the same tones she would asked any one else who had wandered into the building.
"I'm like to see Professor Moriarty." There was no Professor Moriarty, it was code asking to talk to the Guild-Civilian Ombudsman.
"He's not in right now. Can I ask what this concerns?"
"It's between me and the Professor," Sheila insisted.
This was a Guild Service Center. It may have looked like any other law office in the area, except behind the paneled wall in back of Honey Bee were secure rooms where one could talk about world conquest, or how to kill someone or dispute a Guild charge without fear of eavesdropping. One could enter hospital claims, file unfair labor practices, or defaults on real contracts (not to be confused with the 'lip service' contracts that Guild members never had any intention of fulfilling. The Guild of Calamitous Intent wasn't just a club for mastercriminals but was a full service business offering health insurance for the uninsurable, investments and money laundering to those barred from the international banking system. And it mediated disputes between members and non-members. It was where one went to complaint about stealing one's Guild identity or costume.
"Is there someone else you could talk to?" Honey Bee was trying to narrow down the area of conflict. No one wanted to involve the Ombudsman if possible. That reached high up into the Guild hierarchy. Silly, foolish complaints could bring down the wrath of the Council or 13, or any number of Minsters below the governing board of the Guild. And being Villains All, annoyance was close to being a death sentence. The goal of any Service Center was to deal with an issue at as low a level as possible. Hopefully the matter would be one where some one in the office could actually resolve it.
"Only the Professor," Sheila insisted. "I'll wait," and crossed over to a low slung armchair and sat down on the edge. There was a recent issue of Villainous Times on the table beside her. She picked it up and started to read.
Homey Bee finished typing up a report of her conversation and emailed it to the Office Manager. The noted ended with "666," both "the Mark of the Beast" and code for "Recognized-Incognito." A flag popped up on the manager's computer screen. With a sigh he closed down his attempt to break into the Council of 13's email program. He was hoping that a little blackmail would get him out of Member Services and into actual organized mayhem. Well, there would always be another day. Time stretched on forever here in Las Vegas. Super-villains tended to avoid the bright lights.
He switched on the spycam in the waiting area, and saw who was waiting there. That he didn't immediately recognize the woman sitting there said a lot about his failure to advance in his career. He was about to call his secretary, what's her name, and demand to know who this "recognized-incognito" was till he remembered that a successful executive never displays ignorance in front of the help. So he called up the Guild's Mug Shoot library and went over it until he found a match. Sheila Kowalski. Hmm, quite a list of alter egos. When he saw that one of them was Lady Au Pair he knew what the issue was. Even he had hear about the bank robbery she had committed. He wasn't sure that this required the intervention of the Ombudsman. On the other hand, her dossier suggested she was not something to aggravate. He picked up his phone and made a call.
Where it went was hard to say. It traveled in and out of several dimensions the Guild was friendly with before arriving someplace that didn't exist and jingled the phone of someone who was thought to be dead.
"Ombudsman," Elvis said.
He listened for a moment. "I'll take the call. Set up a conference room." He hung up, picked up a mask that sat on the corner of his desk and put it on. Guild business could only be conducted in costume. Guitars outlined the eyeholes, treble clefs were embroidered on the cheeks. Rather than concealing his identity, it announced it to the world. He turned on his web cam and waited for the secure connection light to come on. "Only the lonely" he hummed softly while waiting. He missed touring but world domination came first.
After a minute the light turned green and the monitor lit up. The incognito woman from the waiting room was now wearing a small crown. This satisfied Guild protocol since it was an identifying part of her costume. Dr. Mrs. The Monarch was in the building.
"Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, what do I owe the pleasure?" The King of Rock and Roll (deceased) asked.
"It's about that incident in Shopton last month."
"Ah, I thought it might be that," Elvis drawled. "Don't worry your brown eyes blue, we'll have that imposter punished in short order. The Guild takes care of its own."
"That's just it, Elvis, I'd like a stay on that blackout."
"You're going to do it yourself?" the king asked.
"No. She has my moppets..."
"Ah, a hostage situation. Don't cry, little Darling, we know how to deal with that, too."
Well, yes, but that's' not why I want the stay. It's come to my attention that the Moppets have become a source of - ah - friction at the Cocoon. So I was thinking that it might be best all around if they stayed with this imposter."
"Honey child, I can stay the erasure but I can't suspend one. You'd have to petition the Sovereign about that and even so I doubt that he's make an exception in your case."
"You could cancel an erasure if the original order was a mistake," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch reminded him. She had removed her gray jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. Her pink blouse hinting at her former life as Dr. Girlfriend.
Elvis paused and looked at the papers on the desk before him. He looked puzzled for a moment. "Darlin' - do you mind if I call you Sheila, even though we're officially on the clock?"
"Please."
"Well, Sheila, you've got me more confused then a hound dog in a shoe factory. So many shoes and he doesn't know which one to chew first."
"Just as long as it's not the blue suede one."
Elvis smiled, "But you see my point?"
"I do. What I'm saying is that the problem goes away if we happen to discover that this imposter had licensed the character of Lady Au Pair before she robbed the bank."
Elvis sat back in his chair and thought. "You can produce this license?"
"As soon as I've had a chance to talk with her. That's why I need the stay of erasure."
"I can authorize a stay of three days. Do you think you can get license by then?"
"Yes."
Elvis frowned and flipped through his papers again. "You sound pretty confident, darling. The Guild's Erasure squad still haven't located her and they've been on it for a couple weeks. You won't have much time to do what they haven't be able to do. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"
"It's for the sake of my moppets. I don't want anything to happen to them. Besides I know them a bit better than the Blackout squad does."
"You're not concerned about unleashing those bastards on a naive, young girl?"
"Elvis!" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch bristled. "My boys are perfect angels!"
"They're perfect somethings..." The late King of Rock and Roll gathered up the papers in front of him and set them in a pile to the side. He clasped his hands together and leaned towards the web cam. "Sheila you always were the prettiest little thang. I could never resist your requests." He paused and smiled at a memory. "Well, except that one at the Guild party. The spirit was willing but the flesh was old and tired..." He pulled himself back to the present. "To call off the Erasure you will need to produce a contract signed by the two of you before the stay is over. The contract will have to be back-dated a month to cover her bank robbery. To get the contract entered into the Guild's database, back-dated by a month will require a substantial bribe. Are you willing to pay it?"
"I've got cash."
"Good, good. Also she will have to join the Guild."
"Once I find her I'm sure I can convince her of the wisdom of both. My understanding is that she wants to Arch Hank Venture. Only she didn't realize there were formalities to doing such. She's a smart girl, or so I'm given to understand, so I think she'll understand the important of Guild sanction once it's explained to her. "
"Hank Venture..." the King frowned and reached for a folder on the other side of his desk. "So we're talking about that girl." The Ombudsman glanced through the papers in that folder. "This puts a different light on matters, you know, Honey Chil'."
"Some random attack on Hank Venture... It could have been anybody. He is quite annoying when you get to know him."
"Sheila, Sheila, Sheila. You know damn well he's a Venture. There are no random attacks on the Ventures. It has to be sanctioned by the Guild. So you're saying that she was Arching Hank Venture without permission."
"She was a Blackhearts trainee at the time," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch said glibly. She hadn't considered the implications of Kim's attack on the young Venture boy, being too obsessed with protecting her moppets. Though she kept a calm and smiling face on the outside, she was in a panic inside. "I'm sure that was just some Blackhearts training mission."
"She was Arching without Guild license!" the King reminded her angrily.
"She was a Blackheart at the time."
"No one quits the Blackhearts. If she was a Blackheart then, then she's a renegade now."
"Yes, yes, I know," interrupted Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. "That means they've got a hit squad out for her as well."
"There's nothing I can do about that," Elvis reminded her.
"I never asked you to," she answered him tartly.
There was a moment of awkward silence as each sort to regain their composure.
Finally the king spoke. "I hope you brought a lot of cash because there are going to be a lot of bribing required to paper over this."
"I'm good for whatever amount you need," Dr. Mrs The Monarch replied.
The king smiled at that. "Yes, you are. You're about the only member of the Guild who can say that and I'd believe them." His smiled turned upside-down. "Ok, here are the conditions. The license for her to be Lady Au Pair needs to be back-dated by two months. That's going to double the bribe involved."
"Done."
"She has to join the Guild.
"Done."
"And that has to be back dated two months to cover her unauthorized Arching." He named a very large amount of money. "That's its going to take to get that done.
"Finally, as penalties for her unauthorized Arching she will have to do a mission of the Guild's choosing, and she can not Arch any of the Ventures for one year, from today's date."
"She's going to be very disappointed," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch reminded him.
"Then reminded her that being disappointed beats being dead any day."
"But she will be allowed to Arch Hank Venture after a year?"
"Assuming that your husband hasn't done anything to the Ventures in the meantime."
"I understand. I appreciate your co-operation in this matter. The welfare of Tim-Tom and Kevin have been a great concern of mine."
"I do not see what you see in those two hellions. Is there anything else I can do for you while we have this secure link?" the King asked.
"I was wondering if you'd like to come to this year's Christmas party at the Cocoon. It would be a real honor and you'd help the minion's morale immensely."
"Ah, Sheila, dahling, I'd be honored but you know I've retired from giving concerts. My pipes ain't what they used to be. Besides if I sang at one Christmas party I'd have to sing at all of them and that would make Christmas run nearly year-round, what with all the operations the Guild underwrites. So I have to decline all of them. But I still remember fondly that Christmas party at Guild headquarters. before you hooked up with the Monarch. You were and still are the prettiest li'l thing in the Guild and if i were to break my rule about singing, I'd break it with you first. But I just can't. Anything else?"
She shook her head.
"Then, till next time...'you ain't nothing but a hound dog,' " he crooned a short bar before cutting the connection.
Sheila left the Secure room and found paperwork waiting for her on Honey Bee's desk by the time she walked back to the front of the office. She wasn't sure about the other Super-Villains but for her Elvis had always been extremely prompt. She took the papers. left a wad of cash for the office visit and went back to her car.
She looked over the papers briefly. Everything seemed to be in order. There was even a dossier on the penalty mission Kim would have to do. Dr. Gravity. And excellent choice. But how did they decide on the penalty mission and have the dossier ready in the short time it took for her to leave the conference room? Had they anticipated her coming to save her babies?
She folded the papers and placed them in her purse then began a leisurely drive back to Shopton. It was dark when she got there. She checked into a motel. She could have driven back to the Cocoon. It wasn't that far away. But she had a busy day ahead of her and if she went to back to the Cocoon, her husband, The Monarch, would be after her to tell him when she'd been doing all day, then begging for make-up sex and then she's have to sneak out again in the morning. While she wouldn't mind the sex she wasn't ready to make up with The Monarch. As she undressed to shower she thought that things were going along pretty well.
