《Ebon Bolt》


 001- The Beginning

    Despite what a lot of people may think, I did not choose the life of a super villain.


    Don¡¯t be silly, I¡¯m not going to go into that whole pedantic bullshit about how I was born into it or the life of the villain chose me. None of that shit. Seriously.


    I actually didn¡¯t want anything to do with any of this crap to start with. Hell, a lot of the time I still don¡¯t. Don¡¯t get me wrong, the life can be sweet. And the ladies? Well, they¡¯re kind of the reason I got stuck with being a villain in the first place. If I had to place where it all began, I¡¯d have to say childhood if I¡¯m being honest. Yes, I know that I didn¡¯t become a villain until much, much later. Yes, I know that seems to contradict my earlier statement about my not wanting any of this. Honestly, it wasn¡¯t until recently that I realized how much of my childhood was, in fact, spent training for my eventual life style.


    You see she certainly won¡¯t admit it, but Radiant and I grew up together.


    Yes, the star power A-list superheroine was my childhood friend. We were practically inseparable. To this day, I can¡¯t help but admire her positively radiant personality (pun certainly intended). She always knew that she wanted to be a superhero when she grew up. From the moment both of our powers sparked at the age of eight, we were training to be heroes.


    I was never particularly enamored with the glory, the justice, or the heroism of it all. Honestly, as a kid I was just enamored with her. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t be? She¡¯s always been the gorgeous bundle of joy. She¡¯s always had that amazing smile underneath her golden locks. She¡¯s always had that can-do attitude with an amazing pep in her step. Granted, she¡¯s a lot more serious after all that she¡¯s seen in her career, but I digress. My point Is, that from the beginning she knew what she wanted to be. And for a long time, I thought that I would follow her anywhere just to stay within that radiant glow.


    Our childhood was spent running off into the woods and ¡®dueling¡¯ with our abilities, working out, running, that kind of stuff. We even made a big deal about keeping each other¡¯s secret identities. (No, I¡¯m not going to spill the beans. That would fuck me over just as much as it would her.) It really wasn¡¯t until we became angsty teens that I realized I didn¡¯t want to be a hero. I loved the time I spent with Radiant, but I really didn¡¯t want that kind of life for myself. I saw plenty of families on the new ripped apart by supers, the documentaries on what a dual-life can do to a person. Of course, everyone saw what happens when a hero¡¯s secrets get revealed.


    I shouldn¡¯t have to really get into The Flag¡¯s scandal, but for those of you young enough to not remember: it was a fucking shit hurricane. The man used to be the premiere cape of the grand old U.S.A. That was exactly until a shitbag of a paparazzi decided that he wasn¡¯t as squeaky clean as he looked. Don¡¯t get me wrong, he wasn¡¯t. I still don¡¯t think that forgives someone for seducing a closeted gay man with the intent to film it and ruin his reputation. Flag certainly didn¡¯t deserve the years of his dirty laundry being dragged through every news station and tabloid. Either way, I knew in the wake of that shit hurricane that I simply didn¡¯t want my time in the limelight. I knew all throughout our high school years that I didn¡¯t want the publicity, the inability to live my life freely. Even knowing for years, I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to tell Radiant. I knew it would break her heart.


    I¡¯m honestly not sure if she ever got over it or not. She stopped talking to me after the fact. You have to understand, for the entirety of growing up we were the dynamic duo. To her, we were going to be the new face of superheroes everywhere. We wouldn¡¯t run into The Flag¡¯s problem because we had each other and that was all we would ever need, aside from heroing that is. Once we were out of high school, she immediately applied to the Hero Certification Program. I offered to go to the same college, but I had to tell her that I just couldn¡¯t do it. I mean, it wasn¡¯t like I could let her find out when I didn¡¯t show up for class. She¡¯s only ever said a handful of words to me since, and the vast majority of them involve commanding me to surrender or telling me I won¡¯t get away this time.


    After that, it wasn¡¯t long until I dropped out of college. A lot of you know what I mean when I say life can be rough. Not trying to guilt trip or anything, but I pretty much lost all motivation when I lost my best friend. I didn¡¯t want people to realize that I was a super, so I made it a point to not stand out, to be ¡®normal¡¯. It took several years, but by the time I started to realize what had happened, I had run off anyone willing to spend time with me. All of it in an effort to not be ousted as a super, dumb I know. I moved to Central City to run away from it all, to find a fresh start for myself. I hadn¡¯t lived there very long, in fact, I was still looking for a job when the bank heist that started it all happened.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    As many of you know, my career didn¡¯t actually start with a bank job. I wasn¡¯t a cape when everything began. I was, in fact, the first hostage an up and coming villain decided he could part with, you know, to ¡®prove he meant it¡¯. To be honest, I can¡¯t remember the name of that quivering little shit. I really wasn¡¯t afraid, not of him at least.


    It had really started with what should have been a pitifully normal day. I had somehow scrounged together a full schedule of interviews, at least one of which I had a decent chance of making rent if I got. That was the first interview of the day, working as a bank teller. I now find the image of the great and powerful Ebon Bolt, supervillain extraordinaire, sitting behind a teller¡¯s desk and not robbing the joint kind of funny. Back then, it was my best chance of making ends meet. It helped that not a whole lot of people want to work as tellers in Central City, what with being the center of cape activity for the country and all.


    I had scrounged together a decent looking suit somehow, and I even did up my hair. It wasn¡¯t a perfect fit on my large frame, but it looked nicer than anything I had worn since high school. I certainly looked the part of a professional in the making with my long dark auburn hair tied back in a pony tail, my beard cleanly trimmed, and my mustache waxed to the devilish look I have held for many years. Eventually, the suit became a mainstay of my look as you all know. The classics work all right? And seriously, who wants to go around in spandex all the time? Plus, the suit was a bit nostalgic seeing as how it was the outfit I became a villain in.


    So, here I was, sitting in the lobby of a bank waiting for a manager to call me back to an interview. There was a thin crowd in, with it being early morning for most. I¡¯d love to describe the interior of the place for you, but at this point bank lobbies all just kind of run together. I remember looking over the crowd and the security wondering how this place wasn¡¯t being robbed, especially in Central City. It wasn¡¯t a large bank, and it wasn¡¯t near any major precincts. The only visible security guard on duty was some old man well past his prime. Heck, it was the kind of place that Radiant always told me we should keep an eye on when we became heroes. Anyways, here I was minding my own business when this dipshit in bedazzled red spandex shows up. Seriously, this dude was wearing sequins and everything. That said, this is Central City and nobody really gives a shit about a dude in spandex, at least until they start throwing fire around.


    Surprisingly, it took a bit until it got to that point. All said, I really don¡¯t think the guy had any real plan going in about how he was going to get the cash. Anyways, he starts pacing around with nobody else paying attention to him. He really begins to look upset. Only after several minutes of pacing and getting angrier with every step does he get around to speaking.


    ¡°This is a fucking robbery! Why the hell is nobody bringing me money yet?!?¡± The guy screams. Like he seriously thought just walking into a bank in cape was enough for them to start shelling out the cash. At this point, the security guard whips out a gun and fires off a couple of rounds. The dude in the gaudy costume takes a hit to the shoulder before he sets the old man on fire. That¡¯s probably the one thing I¡¯m never going to get used to in this line of work: the smell of burning flesh. In just a few seconds, the poor old man was ash. The dipshit really didn¡¯t have to lay it on like that, but I guess he was nervous and all. It did get the point across though, and all of us civilians took to the ground with our hands on our heads.


    Keeping his hands on fire for effect, he began to threaten the tellers. He continued to pace up and down the lobby as the tellers stuffed the petty cash in a bag. It wasn¡¯t long though until I heard what really had me quaking that day.


    ¡°Villain! Leave the money and come out with your hands up!¡± I recognized the voice that came across a megaphone instantly. How could I not? I¡¯d heard that voice most of my life, and now Radiant was there. Someone must have gotten off a silent alarm. Probably when asshat was burning the old man alive.


    ¡°Justice and Radiant are here to put an end to this robbery!¡± she called out from outside. Fuck. Of course, the pretty boy was here as well. I mean, it was bad enough that I was going to see her again like this. Her showing up with that egotistical douche she was rumored to be dating as well? Icing on top of the god damned cake. At that moment, the dipshit decided to grab me of all people.


    ¡°Try anything and I¡¯ll roast my hostage alive!¡± you could hear the nerves in his voice as he tried to mask his normal tone. Not like it would have mattered at this point.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to take it to that level! Once you¡¯ve killed someone, there¡¯s no mercy in the system for those with powers.¡± The sympathy in her voice was clear. A lot of people don¡¯t believe it, but she really does have even the villains¡¯ best interests at heart.


    Asshat laughed. And laughed. ¡°Too late for that, sunshine¡­¡± You could hear the strain in his voice. It was clear that he never intended to become a murderer today, but that¡¯s the breaks. He grabbed the bag of cash and made me hold on to it. Then, he wrapped a hand in my hair and kept his other hand on fire to threaten me.


    It was then that I had to come to a decision. I really couldn¡¯t let her of all people see me being the victim in a situation like this. It wasn¡¯t like I was at risk of being killed, I always could have killed him before he did anything too serious to me. It was just¡­ I couldn¡¯t let her see me like that. Little did I know at the time how everything would unfold¡­

 002- The Beginning Pt. 2

    As far as I¡¯m concerned there are a few qualities that every good super villain needs. To be clear, I¡¯m not talking about what it takes to be successful. There are plenty of awful capes that are successful villains. No, I¡¯m talking about what it takes to be the arch-nemesis, the villain that people fawn over. The type of villain that¡¯s always talked about next to their respective nemesis, the ones that practically define who the hero is.


    As popular as they are in pop culture, a good villain is never a psycho. Don¡¯t get me wrong, everybody loves the comics about Detective and his nemesis Mad Clown. That type of sicko just doesn¡¯t make a good villain outside of fantasy. In reality, those are the types that might, and I do mean might, pull off one big job before they get killed.


    Yes, I know the heroes don¡¯t go around killing. Especially not the real, certified, ones. The vigilantes? It can vary, but killing as a vigilante is a very good way to land yourself on an actual hero¡¯s shit list. The point is ¡®accidents¡¯ happen. The types of heroes that don¡¯t have ¡®accidents¡¯ generally put these types behind very tight cages. The types of cages that real villains find a way to kill through, and fast. Psychos are bad for business. Period.


    Anyways, the qualities that a good villain should possess. First and foremost is a flair for the dramatic. In what world would you want a supervillain that can¡¯t put on a show? If a villain cannot do so, they aren¡¯t a villain. They¡¯re a mercenary, an assassin, someone who does a job. These types aren¡¯t villains, merely criminals. The second is the ability to really hold on to a grudge. That¡¯s how a villain becomes a part of their hero¡¯s rogues gallery. The grudge will, a lot of the time, feed into a true villain¡¯s need for drama, their need to feel superior. It¡¯s why we monologue, why we have to make certain that a hero knows their failings as they come to an inevitable demise. The last one is the reason I broke away from my story, and the reason that those events are so important to my origins. The last, and in my opinion most important, quality that a villain needs is pettiness.


    Pettiness is the reason that we will form grudges over the tiniest of infractions. It¡¯s why good villains hold themselves to moral codes. Pettiness is often how us villains can even interact with each other. Always having to walk around on eggshells makes it a lot less likely that someone says something dumb and pisses off the guy with a black hole generator.


    Pettiness is also the reason I became a villain.


    I certainly didn¡¯t want Rad, Radiant, to see me fumbling around as a hostage in a supremely cheesed bank heist. But I really didn¡¯t want that blockhead Justice to save me. Not only is he simply not good enough for her, but god he¡¯s a douche. I mean have you ever seen an interview with the fuck? I swear he adds an extra syllable to half his words just to hear himself talk longer. Did I mention that he was supposed to be dating Rad? Ugh. Is that petty? Certainly, and that¡¯s the gods damned point.


    As most of you know, Justice and I have been nemeses for practically the entirety of my career. I¡¯ve hated that fuck stick of a ¡®golden boy¡¯ since before I became a villain. It¡¯s just that the events of that day cemented my grudge with the head-ass.


    So, there I was, holding a bag of cash that I didn¡¯t steal. Some wannabe shit-bird in bedazzled spandex of all things was threatening me with being burned alive. Radiant was going to see me being held hostage in a situation both of us knew I could have easily gotten out of. To top it all off, every last bit of the stupid hateful nonsense that lead to this moment, that half-baked boy scout was going to bust in at any second and ¡®save¡¯ me. Bah. There¡¯s no way I¡¯d ever ¡®owe my life¡¯ to that egotistical prick.


    So, the dumbass wannabe needed to die before either Justice or Radiant busted in.


    Honestly, it was incomprehensibly simple to kill the little shit. He clearly didn¡¯t have any kind of invulnerability built in with his pyrotechnics. All I had to do was make certain that he took enough volts to put him out. The best way to do that? For me, it¡¯s basically to suit up. Suit up in armor crafted from my famous Dark Lightning and push as much of the energy into him as necessary. Unfortunately, if you recall, I hadn¡¯t spent any time in years working on my powers. I was trying to be ¡®normal¡¯ and that meant no lightning.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    To say I was ¡®out of practice¡¯ would be an egregious understatement.


    I ripped the energy from my core, quickly coating every inch of my exposed skin in crackling black-light energy. Then I pushed the power into him. The energy had been pent up for years, not to mention the fact that I forgot exactly how much it takes to kill a man. In an instant the man¡¯s flesh had boiled, and his costume had turned to ash. To this day I simply do not understand why anyone, even some shit-bird wannabe, would walk around in a fucking flammable costume while wielding fire-based abilities. Fucking seriously.


    But of course, the energy didn¡¯t simply stop with boiling that headass alive. Nope, it continued into what most people would now call my ¡®Bolt Wave¡¯ (which I still think is a lame name for a truly kick-ass ability). The energy surged out from me in a sphere, knocking all the other civilians unconscious and destroying all the localized electronics. I didn¡¯t find out until later that my ability also conveniently destroyed any evidence of my innocence. Well¡­ mostly innocence. I did kill the wannabe after all, and the legal system doesn¡¯t take kindly to vigilantes killing people.


    Seeing the blast wave, Justice didn¡¯t hesitate. There was no longer a guarantee any of the hostages were safe, let alone alive. He took that moment to punch the door in. When the dust from his overpowered punch cleared, I just stood in shock at the gall of a man demolishing the front of a bank. Which was really not helpful considering the scene that ¡®Golden Boy¡¯ found himself looking at.


    There I was, decked out in full Dark Lightning armor, holding a bag of cash, with the charred remains of wannabe laid down at my feet. Not a single civilian, to his eyes, was standing. There, amongst all the destruction and chaos, was a new villain in a dapper suit and clearly ¡®evil aligned¡¯ powers coating every inch of his exposed skin. At least it hid my secret identity from one of the two heroes at the scene.


    To be at least a little bit fair to the golden head of all ass-ness, from where he was standing I was clearly the villain in the situation. I can¡¯t blame him for that. I can, however, blame him for opening the fight by throwing rubble at me.


    What kind of idiot hero thinks that throwing rubble around in an area filled with civvies is a good idea? The kind with more letters in his cape title than brain cells in his fucking head, that¡¯s what kind.


    At the very least, I still had a few of my reactions still ingrained from a childhood of training to save the civilians. Without thinking, I crafted a buckler and a spear from my energy and thrust the spear at the shattered concrete hurtling for my head. The spear cracked into the rubble and sparked along some exposed metal. I threw it to the side, on top of the wannabe instead of anyone alive, and brought my arcing buckler up to defend from whatever came next.


    It was a good thing too, because the shining fist of the golden dumbass was already snapping towards my ruggedly awesome face. As soon as his fist touched my shield, I knew I wasn¡¯t going to beat the guy in a straight up fight. Landing thirty feet away with a sore back while staring at the brand-new hole in a wall will make a point like that pretty damn fast.


    While I would love to say that I cleverly tricked the bastard (as I¡¯ve done in practically every fight we¡¯ve had since), if I¡¯m being completely honest, I didn¡¯t. I turned tail and ran.


    What do you expect? By most estimations, the dude is and always has been a class four works. A-list material practically from the get-go. Not to mention, he had been actively using his abilities to hunt down criminals for a few months at least. Most estimates put me at (very grudgingly) a low tier four manipulator on my best day. On a day when I was out of practice, out of control, and out of my mind? Yeah, let¡¯s not go there.


    So¡­ I ran. Or, I tried at least.


    As I¡¯m sure everybody knows, somebody that is classified as a ¡®works¡¯ super doesn¡¯t just have super strength. Nope, pretty much all of them come with not only strength, but invulnerability and some kind of movement ability at a minimum. Built-in flight is fucking cheating.


    I threw my spear back at him as soon as I saw him lift off the ground. Luckily, I was strong enough at the time to at least stun the blonde bullet. Not that it mattered much. With a roar, he picked up speed and flew out the hole he made. I still swear that had she not stepped in at that point that the ¡®shining golden embodiment of hope¡¯, Justice, would have taken my head off right then and there.

 003- The Beginning Pt. 3

    Cape fights are not things that drag out. Everyone seems to imagine that these fights are almost like a boxing match: some kind of spectacle. In reality, fights typically don¡¯t take more than a few seconds. There are certainly those times when two evenly matched capes really do go at it, but they are generally the exception to the rule. There are even some of the big team-up battles that do happen. Obviously, you¡¯ve seen or heard about those in the news. It¡¯s just that people have somehow come to believe that those big fights are the norm since they seem to be the only fights that get recorded or make it to the news.


    Unfortunately, for most villains, the fact that a fight has started at all generally means that they have already lost.


    With the clear exception of some of the big names such as myself, most villains simply don¡¯t have the power to stand up to heroes without tricks or traps. Even the few of us that can stand toe to toe with heroes will always have something up our sleeves just in case. Heroes just tend to have the more physically oriented or overpowering abilities. In all honesty, it seems to be a necessary criterion for making it through the HCP. Everything I have discovered about that secret training regimen suggests that the tiny fraction of applicants that actually graduate from that program need to have special forces level control and force. With all of that said, it stands to reason that to be a successful villain one must orchestrate their battlefields.


    So, when I found myself fighting Justice, and possibly Radiant, without any kind of plan or battlefield set up I knew I was in for trouble. That is, until Maelstrom pulled me out of the way of a rampaging asshat.


    In my rush to get away from the giant flying idiot, I didn¡¯t notice the manhole cover floating a few inches off the ground in front of me. Not until I tripped over it at least. It was fortunately that exact moment that Justice would have taken my damned head off.


    Before I had any chance to cry out, a slender hand covered my mouth and yanked me over to the side. A second later, the manhole cover that I had tripped on slammed noisily down into place.  I was shoved over into a pile of trash and refuse, a strange pressure forcing my jaw shut. The stench of the pile made me want to gag, especially with my armor burning the nearest little bits. I quickly shut off my ability. At the time, I didn¡¯t know who had pulled me out of the line of fire but, I knew that I had certainly been pulled out of what would otherwise end in my death or imprisonment. After a few very tense moments, I heard a loud curse and the clang of dense metal hitting pavement. It was only then that the force holding my mouth shut released.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I pulled myself free from the reek and refuse only to see one of the most beautiful women to ever don a costume. Maelstrom was a name I knew a little bit about; she was one of Radiant¡¯s rogues after all. If I remember correctly, she was supposed to be some kind of telekinetic. She was a petite woman, with a hard look about her as she glared down the alley. A black and grey coat clung to her lithe form making her lean figure stand out in both a predatory and elegant manner. Her long, shock white hair and pale skin stood in stark contrast to her dark attire. If Radiant is the picture of a goddess made flesh, Maelstrom is the embodiment of seduction given form.


    Like many people witnessing her for the first time, I completely froze as my eyes found themselves locked on her tight and endearing form. In fact, I¡¯m fairly certain that my jaw had gone entirely slack. For a bit, time had no meaning. I sincerely have no idea how long I stared at her until she turned towards me with a prim smirk on her painted black lips.


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered. Really. But don¡¯t you think you should be getting away instead of staring?¡± Her words practically came out in a giggle. It was clear that she knew what kind of effect she had on men, and even more clear that she enjoyed it. Immensely so. ¡°Though I guess you don¡¯t stand out as much without the sparking mask¡­ Cuter though!¡± Her smirk turned sultry as she strode over towards me.


    ¡°So¡­ wh¡­ Why did you involve yourself in this?¡± I asked, ¡°Why did you help me?¡± Confusion must have been spelled across my face as I stammered through my words.


    Maelstrom pointed down at my feet, to where a large bag of cash was sitting. I hadn¡¯t even realized that I was still carrying the thing that started this whole mess. ¡°Ah¡­ The money, of course.¡± I said with some disappointment. I mean, what was I expecting? Some beautiful woman to step in just because she wanted to flirt a bit? Not a chance in hell.


    She seemed to pout a bit as I watched. I could easily lose myself just watching her expressions. ¡°Well¡­ That, and I always love to mess around with Radiant a bit.¡± Her smile grew wider as she mentioned the glowing heroine. ¡°She¡¯s going to have her rankings drop with your escape. Not to mention the fact that she was caught on camera freezing during your fight with Mr. tall blonde and scummy.¡± If I hadn¡¯t known someone who actually could glow, I would have said she began to glow with those words.


    ¡°You seemed to put up a decent fight against Justice,¡± she said, ¡°maybe you would like to work together?¡± It was a tempting offer. She was, and still is, a tempting woman. I just wasn¡¯t ready to take the plunge into being a villain. Not yet at least. So, I walked away not knowing the shitstorm that was about land at my doorstep.

 004- The Beginning Pt. 4

    Hours later, I simply sat there. I sat and stared at the ¡®business¡¯ card that Maelstrom had given me. One with a kinky black lipstick kiss on the back. That, not to mention the knowing smirk she gave me when I told her I wasn¡¯t going with her, drove me crazy.


    My super powers don¡¯t involve any extra mental capacity, not that I need mental improvement. I¡¯m also definitely not a telepath. I¡¯m certainly no better than the next guy at reading women. I¡¯m pretty certain that nobody can mistake the mark on the back of that card as anything other than some form of interest.


    And that absolutely baffled me.


    Look, I may be the cocky and lovable asshole now, but at the time? Let¡¯s just say it had certainly been a while since I had really talked to anyone, let alone a woman as beautiful as Maelstrom. I had never seen that level of interest from a woman before, certainly not one as beautiful as her. Suffice to say, I was interested. Really interested. I just had no desire to get into crime at that point. Despite my lack of a decent job, I just didn¡¯t want to start myself down the path of an indecent career. Not to mention that I had no idea exactly what she was interested in. Perhaps she thought I was attractive. Maybe she thought that screwing a newer villain meant that she was less likely to get stabbed in the back. Honestly, I didn¡¯t think that she had anything good in mind for me. It was hard for me, at the time, to believe that a woman as hot as her was legitimately attracted to me. So, I just wasn¡¯t going to get myself involved.


    That sentiment pretty much lasted until I saw the interview with the great golden goblin on tv.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I believe that I spoke earlier of how important pettiness is as a villain. Let me reiterate. If you aren¡¯t incredibly petty, it is horrifically unlikely that you will ever become a villain. Mercenary? Assassin? Cat-burglar? Sure. But a real supervillain? Never. What I saw on my screen that day still haunts me. So, there¡¯s the ass hat, once again standing in front of a news caster. There¡¯s old blonde for brains assuring the newscaster and the civilians alike that he¡¯s going to catch the monster that did such a horrific thing. There¡¯s Mr. Douchebag, looking perfect despite his recent foray into the sewers. Well, perfect except for one incredibly important detail.


    Radiant is cuddling up to him.


    She looked hurt. She was hiding it well, but I could tell. How could I not after spending nearly eighteen years at her side? She was practically on the verge of tears, and it was all because of me. But, she was cuddling up to that floating gold-encrusted turd. She was leaning on that fucking ass of a human piece of garbage for emotional support. All while he was promising to hunt me down.


    I couldn¡¯t take it.


    I don¡¯t know about anyone else, but it just wasn¡¯t something that I could take lying down. She left me. She betrayed me. For him of all people? No. I simply wasn¡¯t going to let him get away with it. Hell, I wasn¡¯t going to let her get away with it. I mean, how dare she? I was an innocent man, and she not only stood by to let him hunt me, but she nodded in affirmation as the ¡®Golden Boy of Central City¡¯ ranted about how he was going to take me down.


    The phone rang for a few seconds before Maelstrom¡¯s girlish voice answered. ¡°Already decide to turn to a life of crime?¡± I could hear the smirk in her voice. The giggle at how easily I had caved in just waiting to burst free. For some reason, I found her all the more attractive for it.


    ¡°So long as I get to wipe the smug grin off of those bastards¡¯ faces.¡±

 005- The First Outing Pt. 1

    ¡°You know, when I said that I wanted to wipe the smirks off of their faces, I wasn¡¯t being quite this literal¡­¡± I said as I stepped back from my most recent work of glorious art. Maelstrom and I, for some reason have spent the last several hours defacing every mural, billboard, and statue depicting Justice or Radiant. By this point, I was getting a bit tired. A few hours maintaining my electrical mask isn¡¯t a huge drain, but it is tiring.


    I¡¯m definitely no artist, but I think just about everyone can recognize the gold colored swirl that I have painted on top of golden boy¡¯s head here as the ubiquitous poop emoji. Hey, you may not think that this is art, but if you don¡¯t, you should seriously look up Marcel Duchamp. If drawing a mustache on a postage stamp of the Mona Lisa is art, so is painting a golden turd on top of an image of the golden turd.


    Nearby, where she is doing her own work on an image of Radiant, Maelstrom giggles. ¡°Yeah, but isn¡¯t it fun?¡± She turns to me with a beaming smile, malevolent glee apparent on her cat-like features. ¡°Besides, every time you sign your villain name on one of these it makes it more likely that the news isn¡¯t going to make one up for you. What did you decide on anyways?¡±


    I actually hadn¡¯t thought about it much leading up to that point. In fact, I had actually just been ¡®signing¡¯ all of my works with a black lightning bolt. I thought that would make it pretty clear who the messages were from at least.


    As I lost myself in thought, Maelstrom bounced over to look at my handiwork. Upon seeing my ¡®signature¡¯ she asked, ¡°You haven¡¯t seriously been signing all of these with a janky little symbol, have you?¡± The look on my face must have spelled out the truth for her as she continued. ¡°Look babe, I get the symbolism, I do.¡± She pulls herself up to my side and speaks softly to me, ¡°Do you really want to be known as something stupid like Black Lightning? Cuz, that¡¯s where the news casters are going to go with this kind of thing¡­¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that kind of racist?¡± I turned to her and asked.


    ¡°Of course it is, and that¡¯s the kind of thing they¡¯ll pin on your origins without a second thought if they can.¡± A hint of concern was etched into her features as she looked up at me.


    ¡°Yeah, that definitely wouldn¡¯t work¡­ I never really thought about my cape identity growing up, even though I¡¯ve been working with my powers for almost as long as I can remember¡­¡± I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and stared at the little black symbol I had painted. ¡°It isn¡¯t like I can go by something much different than Black Lightning though¡­¡±


    Maelstrom snuggled in a bit closer before speaking softly, ¡°You really do need to come up with something a bit cooler though¡­ It isn¡¯t like I can be seen hanging around the racist asshole¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ Something like Ebon Bolt?¡± I asked. ¡°It still has the same basic meaning, but it¡¯s a lot cooler and not racist.¡±


    It¡¯s always the way that these things seem to go, just as you are having a quiet moment to yourselves is exactly when some douchebag has to show up and ruin it. Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t Justice who called out at that moment. It was someone worse. Much, much worse.


    ¡°Stop right there, villainous scum!¡± A high-pitched voice called out from behind us. I turned around to see one of the strangest vigilantes I¡¯ve ever met: Plush. She might as well have been a suicide girl wearing a cutesy bear hoodie. The outfit was complete with a skirt, boots, and gloves cementing the whole Japanese bear-girl look. She wasn¡¯t exactly chubby, she¡¯s both a bit thicker and taller than the average heroine. The whole look seemed to revolve around her heart-shaped face. She was very much like a cutesy little doll or plushie. Which, I guess, is the point. Honestly, she was very distracting. Which was kind of a problem, considering the army of animated patchwork teddy bears at her beck and call.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re the meanies that have been ruining all the precious pictures of Justice!¡± She called out with an obvious pout in her voice.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Maelstrom turned her trademark smirk on the girl whining about my art. ¡°Plush, girl, you really don¡¯t want to be messing with Ebon Bolt and Maelstrom. We¡¯re just a bit too big league for you, darling.¡± With that, a storm of debris and rocks floated up into the air. The stuffed animals all frowned before the begin to act like thugs. They all brandished weapons or little cotton-filled fists. I imagine that in the right setting that these things would actually be really off-putting, perhaps even the source of scares for a haunted house. As it was, I had a bit of trouble holding back my laughter.


    Either way, it was obvious that she was a Justice fan girl. And that, I simply wasn¡¯t going to tolerate.


    ¡°I¡¯m a much better man than your precious Justice ever could be.¡± I stated with venom in my voice before leaping down from the billboard. ¡°I¡¯d rather not have to kick the ass of a little girl such as yourself, but I won¡¯t hesitate to remove his name from your lips.¡± With that, I forced a sword and shield through my hands. Black lightning crackled in my hands threateningly.


    Plush grabbed one of the larger bears standing next to her, almost hiding behind it. ¡°You aren¡¯t good enough to fight Justice!¡± she whined. ¡°My zombie bears are more than enough to handle meanies like you!¡± She thrust her arm forward, commanding the bears to amble forward. Amble might not be the best word, as those little bastards are much faster than the word suggests. In fact, deluge would probably describe the wave of patchwork cotton that rushed me quite a bit better.


    A hailstorm of debris and rocks punched through the heads of the oncoming horde, doing nothing to stem the tide. Even the few bears that were knocked over from the force of Maelstrom¡¯s attacks simply crawled back to their feet and continued their rush.


    I ran forward to meet the cloth toys in what I assumed would be an absolute slaughter. Sure, ripping their bodies apart, burning the cotton, and setting the sparse remains aflame might count. That is, if the horde wasn¡¯t literally endless. As I tore each animal apart, another appeared at the side of the pouty heroine. Heck, I¡¯m pretty sure that the damned things aren¡¯t actually real.


    While I was busy rushing forward, Maelstrom split her attention between helping me and attacking Plush. From what I could see, Maelstrom¡¯s thrown objects were having little effect on the bouncing woman. Every time an attack came anywhere close to Plush, another bear jumped in front of the object. It really didn¡¯t help that the girl kept one of the toughest looking ones clutched to her ample chest.


    Obviously, these tactics weren¡¯t working. It was time to change things up. With a roar, I let out a small shockwave and threw my shield forward. I rushed through the newly formed gap while forming another sword in my left hand. It was clear to me that the only way to end this was to take out Plush herself. So, I rushed forward focusing more on speed and distance more than how many of the little buggers I was cutting down. I ripped through any of the damned things that stood in my way, but otherwise ignored them.


    Finally, I made it within a decent distance to Plush. She was definitely much cuter up close, but I couldn¡¯t let myself be distracted. She pushed several of the large bears forward, forcing them between us. Shattered-button teeth gnashed at me from their fabric maws. The large patchwork bears definitely reminded me of undead abominations I had seen in many video games, but I couldn¡¯t waste the time to tussle with the beasts. Instead, I threw my swords into their faces, hoping the distraction would give me enough time to deal with Plush.


    The distraction certainly worked for a second, but I had no hope of actually taking her down before her army ripped my back apart. I had to find a way to force her hand. All I could really think about was forcing her to give in at the time. So, I grew a whip made of lightning from my hand and lashed it to her ankle. Because it is my crafted energy, I can manipulate the lightning in whatever way I see fit. This lets me do a lot of interesting things with the stuff. Interesting things like hoisting the vigilante upside down and into the air.


    ¡°Call off the animals, Plush. You don¡¯t want my ability cutting out and dropping you on your head.¡± I spoke with confidence as Plush squealed and held her skirt in place. Without a second to spare, her army disappeared.


    ¡°You really are a meanie, Mr. Bolt.¡± She whined. ¡°Exposing a girl isn¡¯t fair play¡­¡± The puffy gloves she wore to make her hands look like the paws of one of her stuffed animals made it incredibly difficult for her to keep her skirt up.


    ¡°Hun, don¡¯t wear a skirt if you are worried about such things.¡± Maelstrom laughed. ¡°At least wear some spats or shorts underneath.¡± Then she turned to me, ¡°Bolt, go ahead and tie her up. I think that holding the vigilante as a hostage might help our image a bit.¡± I went ahead and wrapped a few more bands of energy around her and laid her softly on the ground. It really looked like the day was wrapping up nicely.


    ¡°I do believe that you should set the poor girl free.¡± A booming, full of itself voice sounded out from behind me.


    Shit. Justice decided to show up.