The Good Fight 2: Villains Read online

  The Good Fight 2: Villains

  An Anthology of Superpowered Fiction

  Presented by the Pen & Cape Society

  All stories Copyright their respective authors.

  Published by Local Hero Press, LLC

  Local Hero Press Edition

  Local Hero Press Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Local Hero Press and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

  Cover art by Jeff Hebert

  Ebook design by Ian Thomas Healy

  “Back in Business: A Tale of the Second Life of DB Cooper” Copyright 2015 by Nicholas Ahlhelm

  “Frankie” Copyright 2015 by Scott Bachmann

  “Stripped Down Blues” Copyright 2015 by Mike Baron

  “Goon #3” Copyright 2015 by Drew Hayes

  “Components” Copyright 2015 by Ian Thomas Healy

  “Lemonade” Copyright 2004 by Hydrargentium, originally published in Journal of a Thousand Faces #0

  “Here Comes the Pain” Copyright 2015 by T. Mike McCurley

  “Who Deserves to Die?” and “Politics as Usual” Copyright 2012 by Landon Porter, originally published on The Descendants

  “I Am SKYSTEP” Copyright 2015 by R.J. Ross

  “The Revenge” Copyright 2015 by Cheyanne Young

  “Too Close” Copyright 2015 by Jim Zoetewey

  Table of Contents

  Introduction: A Book for Hud

  Back in Business: A Tale of the Second Life of D.B. Cooper

  Frankie

  Stripped Down Blues

  Goon #3

  Components

  Lemonade

  Here Comes the Pain

  Who Deserves to Die? / Politics as Usual

  I Am SKYSTEP

  The Revenge

  Too Close

  Introduction: A Book for Hud

  James Hudnall made me a better writer. I discovered his writing just as I entered my formative “tween” years. His Alpha Flight run was one of the first regular books I ever bought without at X in the title. I became a huge fan of his take on the Canadian superheroes, but it was just the first in a long line of books of his I read.

  Lex Luthor: The Unauthorized Biography. Hardcase. Strikeforce Morituri. The Solution. ESPers. The Psycho. Age of Heroes. Even translations of Mai the Psychic Girl for Viz.

  James came at comics differently than other writers. He put a human edge that in the ‘80s and early ‘90s wasn’t always normal in superhero writing. He embraced big ideas and weird esoteric conspiracies to flesh out his writing. And he crossed genres simply because writing mainstream superhero comics got boring after awhile. He blurred the lines of what super powered fiction can be, something I try to do every time I write—and something you will see a lot of from the other writers in this anthology.

  I’ve followed James Hudnall’s career for over twenty years now. I’ve reviewed his books, chatted a few times through Facebook or email and pretty much realized he’s as interesting a person as he is a writer. So when the news came out that he not only lost a foot to diabetic complications, but also a job and a home, I wanted to find a way to help in his desperate time of need.

  The Good Fight 2: Villains was already something the Pen & Cape Society had in the works. The first The Good Fight was a free release to show off some of the writing of the great folks in the society, but we wanted to keep the line going as a charity series. With the support of the other fine talents you see in this book, the decision was made to use all the profits from the book to benefit James in his time of need. By purchasing this book, you’ve helped him as well. For that, we all thank you.

  Now let’s get on with the good stuff. Enjoy The Good Fight 2: Villains!

  Nicholas Ahlhelm

  March 9, 2015

  Back to Table of Contents

  Back In Business

  A Tale of the Second Life of D.B. Cooper

  by Nicholas Ahlhelm

  Nicholas Ahlhelm is the author of several novels and short stories set in the Quadrant Universe. His novels include Lightweight, Epsilon, Out For Vengeance, Living Legends: Old Soldiers and A Dangerous Place to Live. He also writes the web serial Walking Shadows. Learn more about his work at SuperPoweredFiction.com.

  He also has work in several anthologies current or upcoming from Metahuman Press (where he also serves as the editor-in-chief), Flinch Books, Pro Se Press and Airship 27.

  He lives in Eastern Iowa with his wife and two daughters.

  He has visited Key West but sadly has not adopted any chickens or weird-footed cats.

  * * *

  The sun was warm on my back as he pulled himself out of the surf and up on to an outcropping of rocks just off of Fort Zachary Taylor Beach. The sun burned bright even late in the evening. The heavy air held the water against his skin. Summer in Key West wasn’t for everyone, but after ten years, it just felt like another day to him.

  “Hey, Coop! Coop, over here!”

  He looked up as he grabbed his towel and dried off. Two attractive women, both in bikinis, waved at him. One blonde, the other a dark-featured Cuban, they were both easy on the eyes. Coop waved to both as he slipped his feet into his Kinos. He met them earlier in the day, as they were the new arrivals at the conch house he maintained in exchange for room and board. It was easy work for him and offered him the benefits of meeting women like them on a regular basis.

  He started towards the two beauties. They were both flight attendants on vacation, looking to have a good time as far off the beaten track as they could be and still be in the States. It wasn’t an unusual prospect for Key West. Coop came here for much the same reason.

  Just a step or two from the ladies, he smiled and said, “Enjoying the water, ladies.”

  Loni, the blonde, smiled and said, “We are, but we think there are a few other things we might enjoy.” She eyed his Speedo as he pulled on a baggy red-and-white Hawaiian shirt.

  “Yeah, you’ve been so great to us,” the other, Mandy, added. “We hoped you might show us some of the nightlife.”

  “I think that can be arranged. What do you want to see first, ladies?”

  Both girls giggled. “Well, we thought we might go back to the house and change,” Missy said.

  “We’ve got a lot of outfits and want you to help us find what’s best. Do you think you can—?”

  Mandy stopped in mid-sentence, her face blank and empty, as though she stared right past Coop. Missy also stood still and unmoving. Most folks would probably start panicking now, but he knew the look. It had been over ten years since the last time he saw it, but he knew it meant nothing good for him.

  He ran away from the girls and towards his motorbike on the beach. His bag was there—as was the knife inside.

  It was too late. A man walked across the beach towards them. And if not for his dress, his very presence would send dread through every ounce of Coop’s being.

  He was tall and dark-featured, but the heavy beard and long black hair—both of which fell to the middle of his chest—masked most of his face. His body was also covered in thick hair, all of it in view thanks to the bright red and white swim-trunks and flip-
flops he wore. The outfit was terribly incongruous for a man Coop barely remembered seeing outside robes.

  “Well you found me, Grigori, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to run or laugh at that get up.”

  The dark man looked down at his outfit. “I thought I was blending in,” he said with a hint of a Russian accent.

  “Grigori, you couldn’t blend in anywhere. You look like a turn of the century Russian mystic. You sort of made that look famous.”

  “I suppose so,” he said with a nod.

  “So how did you find me?”

  “I’ve known where you were since 1974, Daniel. I’m a seventh level. Only the rarest few can avoid me for long. You may be a blank space to my mind, but if you meet enough people I can still trace you. Once you settled into this little hideaway, I’ve been on to your location.”

  “Then why am I still free? Why didn’t you come get me?”

  The dark-bearded man smiled a mirthless grin. “I think you overestimate your importance, Daniel. You’re a low level esper. You were useful as an agent, but you were far from irreplaceable. And no one cares about the two hundred thousand you stole outside the idiots in the FBI. You and I both know you have nothing to worry about from them.”

  Coop shook his head. “You’re not making any sense. You come and interrupt my life only to tell me you don’t want me back. I’ve lived in hiding for nearly a decade for nothing. So why now? Why this afternoon of all days?” He pointed to Mandy and Missy. “I had plans.”

  Grigori glanced towards the girls. “I see that. You always liked to nudge women into your room.”

  “Hey, that was a long time ago. I’m older and wiser now. I don’t need to use the nudge to get them back to my room.”

  “I see. You impress me, Daniel. You always did. You may have been limited as far as Stargate was concerned, but your wits make up for where your ESP fails you. You managed to make the FBI think you were in your forties during your little escapade. Now you’re a thirty something living by the water openly using the nickname you used then.”

  “Turns out if you’re a thin faced bald guy in sunglasses, D.B. Cooper gets thrown around as a nickname. Coop worked as well as any other alias. Grigori, you made it plain this isn’t a social call. Why are you here? What do you want with me?”

  “It isn’t what I want with you, Daniel. I’m not the only person here to visit you in Key West. Romero is back in the States and he wants your blood.”

  Coop felt his buzzcut stand up on edge at the sound of the name. Good memories didn’t come with it. “Romero is dead, Grigori. I watched him die.”

  “You saw what he wanted you to see. He’s very much alive. They’ve spent ten years putting him back together in Cuba only for him to break free of his programming. He was making a beeline for this direction. It looks like he wants to find the man that almost killed him.”

  “In other words, me.”

  “I could have let him just show up at your door, Daniel. Be grateful you at least have a fighting chance now.”

  “Why don’t you stop him?”

  “We’re in a Cold War, Daniel. Romero is legally dead. They can’t take any action until he commits a crime on US soil. And you and I both know Stargate doesn’t care unless Romero interferes with their goals.”

  “You’re talking about the agency as if you have nothing to do with it. What’s going on, Grigori?”

  Grigori smirked. “Need to know, Daniel. Need to know.”

  “So what is this? When does Romero arrive? What does he want? Do you have anything for me?”

  “I assume he wants your life. And he arrived yesterday. He’s probably already on your trail.”

  Coop whispered a string of expletives. The bearded man nodded in agreement.

  Grigori looked to the girls. “Remember I wasn’t here. You’ve been warned. What you do with this knowledge is up to you. But if you survive the next forty-eight hours, I’ll make sure to stop by again. Good luck, Daniel.”

  Coop blinked and a moment later Grigori was gone—if he was ever there in the first place. The old monk had a tendency to pull disappearing acts on the regular. He just stared at the sand where the other man stood, Romero still weighing heavily on his mind.

  He knew he wasn’t a good person in his old life. Assassination didn’t leave a lot of room open to make friends and influence people. He had to plot an airplane heist just to find a way to retire and get away. Now it seemed that everything was rushing back. And with it, one of his deadliest threats.

  “Coop, are you okay?”

  Loni’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned back to the girls, now back to moving as if nothing happened. For them, nothing had.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m just fine, ladies.” He quickly hustled over to them. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to change our plans. I just remembered I have to be back at the house for an inspection today. I can’t have any guests there while it’s going on. But don’t worry, I know a great seafood place you can both stop at while I get things done.”

  Loni and Mandy both gave him pouty faces. “But Coop, we were hoping to have some fun with you.”

  He gave them both a lopsided grin. “Maybe later, girls. But right now, you should go get some grub. I’ll meet you later and show you around the island, I promise. I know all the best spots.”

  “All of them?” Mandy said. “I can think of a couple you haven’t been yet.”

  He realized neither woman would take no for an answer. Normally, it wasn’t a problem he ever worried about. But today, he had other worries.

  “You should get going now, girls. Have some food. You’re hungry after all.” As he spoke the words, his mind focused on theirs. The words came with a bit more force. With them came what he called the nudge.

  He would never be at Grigori’s level, but Coop’s own psychic gifts got him far. With just a little push, he could convince most people that his suggestions were a good one. It once convinced a flight crew he was in his mid-forties. It could easily convince a pair of beautiful girls they needed an actual meal before they made one out of him.

  “Fine,” Loni said. “We’ll go get a little something to eat first. I am a bit hungry. What about you, Mandy?”

  “I could eat. But it’s too bad Olee isn’t with us. She might want some food too.”

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  Coop realized he forgot their friend, a third stewardess. The young woman was black and hadn’t possessed any of her friend’s interest in sun-bathing. She stayed behind at the conch house. The same conch house that people knew he lived at.

  The same conch house he knew Romero would target first.

  “Alright, I’ll send her your way. You girls go have fun and I’ll see you later.”

  Loni and Mandy both gave him a wave as they started back to their rented bicycles. He stayed in place long enough to watch them start pedaling away before he ran to his own dirt bike.

  He wasted no time in hopping on his cycle. He kicked up the stand and revved the tiny but powerful engine on the vehicle. A second later, he sped off the beach and back towards the conch house.

  Key West wasn’t a large island, but it was almost always packed with people. With old narrow roads, even a dirt bike could have trouble winding in and out of traffic. But Coop knew he didn’t have time for patience. Romero was probably already here. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill a few innocents if it got him to Coop more quickly.

  He ignored the yells of pedestrians as he sped down the street. He had no time to waste. He hated his old life. Hated killing for some nameless figure’s idea of the greater good. But he still knew evil when he saw it. Romero wasn’t just a Communist weapon. He was a dangerous psychopath that enjoyed killing in the most sadistic ways possible. He needed to be stopped. While Coop knew he couldn’t match power with the Cuban, he at least understood the killer. After all, they both once shared a job.

  He screeched to a halt in front of the conch house he called home. The entire top floor of the t
hree story structure was his, an expensive habitation on a tiny island built around tourism. But the owner owed him more than a few favors. Free rent was the least he could provide.

  Coop dropped the dirt bike where he stopped and ran for the door. He quickly slammed open the front door and into the short stairwell. The door to the empty first floor room was right next to him, but he hustled up the stairs to the second floor room.

  “Olee! Olee!”

  The girl gave no response. Coop let out several curses under his breath as he realized he left his keys and his bag back on the beach. He couldn’t get through the locked door without it. He couldn’t find out if the girl was alright or if Romero had already been here.

  “Olee!”

  She still didn’t answer. I don’t have time for this.

  Coop stepped back and eyed the door. He took one deep breath and reared back. With one continual motion, he brought up right foot and slammed it hard into the door just beside the handle. He heard the frame give away from the lock with the very first blow. The old door buckled in a bit, ripped around where the lock tore away from the frame. He figured he would get holy hell for breaking the door as it dated back to the origins of the house. But he would get even more if Olee was dead inside.

  If he could survive against her killer.

  Coop shoved his way into the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Everything looked pretty much like a trio of girls had just found their way inside after a long journey. It looked like any crash pad for travelers on vacation. He could make out no sign of forced entry other than his own.

  He did hear the shower running in the back of the room though. Then he heard it shut off.

  He looked back at the broken door and then back towards the bathroom. Thoughts of Scylla and Charybdis filled his mind.

  “Mandy? Loni? Is that you?”

  Olee walked out of the shower. A towel was wrapped around her ample chest. It only barely reached down to cover her hips. She stopped short as she saw him. He knew he should look away but couldn’t seem to pull his eyes off her.