Origins of a D-List Supervillain by Jim Bernheimer

Author:Jim Bernheimer [Bernheimer, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781461084747
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2011-04-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Stops on the Cal Stringel Revenge Tour

The houses overlooking the Pacific Ocean were a testament to the excesses in life. The communities, dominated by the rich and famous, mocked those who were beneath them. F. Randall Barton had reached that pinnacle of existence and climbed pretty far up the summit of Mount Success.

Part of his journey had included deliberately going out of his way to destroy my life. Between his machinations and my own shitty decisions, I’d been kicked into a hole which I’d only recently climbed out from. Nietzsche said, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” I knew I wasn’t strong enough to go after Ultraweapon just yet, if ever, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t topple the man who’d engineered my downfall with Lazarus Patterson’s approval, tacit or otherwise.

On the way out west, I’d been pleased to see that I was a trending topic on the Internet. There was rampant speculation that I had planned the attack and had used the money I’d stolen as investment capital. That was different; people were overestimating me for a change. It made me admire Eddy’s decision to stay out of the limelight and pull the strings. The suspicious side of me that had been nurtured in prison led me to believe that Eddy was out there encouraging the idea that I’d been behind it all.

If the roles were reversed, it’s what I would do.

While on the topic of prison, I considered sending a letter to my therapist and seeing if he would approve of my personal growth decisions. Before moving forward with my life, I was going to confront the problems of my past head on. Well, it was more like taking my inner demons out for a night on the town. Something told me that this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but the world was an imperfect place. Still, being on east coast time, I sat around and waited for Barton’s son to drive off to high school in his expensive “look what pappy bought for me” mustang. Thermals showed one male and one female still in the house. Considering what they doing and that he was a divorced man, I figured this must be the much younger, much prettier girlfriend.

Taking to the sky, I landed on his balcony and felt it creak under the weight of the suit. The naked, redheaded woman, not much older than the man’s son, screamed, jumped off, and clutched at the sheets to cover her body.

Barton has good taste, I thought as the man dragged on a pair of boxers and walked toward me. He must think I’m Patterson! That’s a laugh.

“Mr. Patterson,” he began. “Is that one of your older suits? I haven’t seen that one before. Taking it out for a spin, I see. Is there something urgent at the office, or is this a social visit?”

“Social,” I said, deciding to play along. “How are things?”

“Fine, fine,” he said.

“Grab on,” I commanded. “This discussion needs to be held in private.

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