Villains Rule Read online

  “Then how did you escape?”

  “It was that idiot Randy. The phone he was carrying was imbued with power from my realm. I sensed the power radiating from it. The power healed me and I put on an act. When they weren’t suspecting, I cracked Randy’s head, snatched the phone and used a little bit of the power to drop me off about a couple of miles away, down the coast and into the sea.”

  “The sea? Boss, you could have died.”

  “Sophia, you are forgetting the rules of the fantasy realms. People—well, main characters anyway—never die at sea. They always wash up on shore. It’s kind of a trope. One I was very willing to exploit. Now, I have a couple of miles head start and an item with my power in it. So they will not be able to locate me.”

  “Until she realizes I stole her phone and she cuts off the power flowing from this dimension to that one.”

  Sophia was right. Once Paige realized what happened, she actually was smart enough to cut the flow of power. After that, the phone would only hold a charge for a limited amount of time. More than a regular phone, for sure. But the more power I used, the faster it would drain.

  “Sophia, why didn’t you try and contact me ahead of time?” I asked.

  “She forbade any outside contact, sir. You know the rules of this realm and what my limitations are.”

  I did indeed. I wrote the rule. I also know Sophia’s ability to circumvent the rules. “So, how did you manage to get around the command?”

  I could practically hear Sophia grinning. “Oh sir, you know me so well. Too bad things could never work out between us.”

  “Sophia,” I said, raising my voice.

  “After Randy stopped messaging, she went a little crazy and started blowing up some of your possessions. Not the good ones, sir, those are still well hidden. So I calmly asked her if I could use the restroom. And she clearly stated ‘I don’t fucking care what you do’. So I took that to mean I was free and clear to behave as I wished.”

  “That’s my girl,” I said proudly. “Too bad Paige doesn’t know you don’t go to the bathroom.”

  “That’s her fault for not paying attention,” Sophia gloated. “OK boss, what’s the plan? I can’t open a gate to get you home. I require the permission of the dimension’s sitting lord. At the moment, that is Paige. Perhaps if you could make your way back to the standing gate outside of Ashraven?”

  I thought about it. I thought about how easy it would be for me to return to my realm. But I would have to battle my sister. Even though it was my realm, the battle between us could shatter the dimension and bleed over into others. I was already not well liked by my neighboring deities. A fact they made abundantly clear during the quarterly meetings.

  “No, not this time. This needs to be done old school,” I told Sophia. “A systematic destruction of my enemies. A lesson to them and a warning to others. You don’t . . . fuck . . . with the Shadow Master.”

  “Oh sir . . . if I had a vagina—well, a real one . . .”

  “I know Sophia, I know,” I said. I saw something out of the corner of my eye that caught my attention.

  The rising sun had caused a golden path of light from the horizon to the shore. Almost to the exact spot where I was standing. And on that watery path, a clam shell, easily six feet long, materialized and floated towards the shore. The clam opened and inside was a silver light that gave off a feeling of hope and power. As the clam floated up, I saw a child inside. She was blue, with white hair and strange red markings.

  She was clearly the one promised by Nhal. A champion of justice and good. To be tended to and reared in the ways of humankind until the day came when the child would right a great wrong and bring peace to a war-torn people.

  Well, I couldn’t have that shit.

  I put my foot on the shell and gave it a nice kick back out to sea.

  “Sorry little one, but you’re bad for business.”

  “Sir?” Sophia asked.

  “Not you. I was just taking care of something. Let me go take care of these fisher folks and I’ll call you back. In the meantime, I need to know the moment Paige cuts the power.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  I smiled as I watched the shell float back to sea, then turned to walk to the village.

  ********

  After receiving clothes, food and a little rest, I thanked the people of the village and bid them farewell, promising them I would fight for their noble cause.

  Whatever it was. I wasn’t really listening.

  I was more distracted by the garbage they called food and the rags they called clothes. Still, I soldiered on with a smile on my face.

  Once I was out of sight of the village and moving to the nearby woods, I clenched my free hand into a fist and felt the power from the phone, my power, surging through me. I altered the driftwood and seaweed garments and fashioned myself new clothes. Nothing too fancy, mind you. But for what I had in mind, I had to look the part.

  I stood, renewed, in my dark brown boots, black leather pants, a forest green shirt, a brown leather armor with silver plate inlay, and an adventurer’s cloak. On my back were twin short swords and on my hips were two combat daggers. I created a small earpiece so I could keep comms open with Sophia. I also linked my vision to the phone. What I saw, Sophia could see on the smartphone on her end.

  “Sophia, are you there?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Sophia, I am running out of allies. I need to know this is not another setup. Where do your loyalties lie?”

  “Julian Jackson Blackwell, from the moment we met one another, we have been bonded. I have ever remained loyal to you. Of all who came before you, I only ensured their death. But you were different. I serve you because I choose to.”

  “Until the day you decide to kill me, that is.”

  “Well, of course, sir.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear,” I said. “Sophia, you know how I feel about trust.”

  “I feel the same way, sir. Now, what’s your plan?”

  “You are not going to like it,” I told her.

  “Try me, sir.”

  “I’m going to recruit some heroes.”

  The Ninth Rule of Villainy

  A villain will use ANYTHING to win . . . even if it sucks.

  Chapter Eleven

  Where I Begin My Quest to Find Heroes and Expose Fantasy Realm Sexism

  No doubt Grimskull and his forces were searching for me. His archmage Chaud would be able to tell where I teleported to. But from then on, I’d been covering my tracks magically. The phone still showed a full charge, so Paige had yet to realize she was inadvertently helping me.

  I was weary from the last few days. The beating and subsequent imprisonment had taken its toll. The overland trek from the coast inland took several hard days of walking with little food or drink. However, it was blessedly free of conflict while also free of horses. It may have taken a considerable amount of precious time to get there, but if I never had to ride another one of those demonic hell-beasts, then I would walk without complaint.

  Before me stood the Crossroads Inn and Tavern. I placed my hand on the door and took a deep breath, preparing myself.

  “But sir, your reputation! Think about it!”

  “There is nothing to discuss,” I told Sophia. The comm link in my ear allowed me to hear her clearly, and I barely had to speak for her to hear me. Plus, having her as a second set of eyes with our inter-dimensional Skype had its benefits.

  This was where the first step towards my vengeance would begin. I felt the wood of the door and admired the stained glass of the windows. The inn was aptly named, as it sat at a major intersection off the empire’s capital road.

  “But why this inn, sir?” Sophia asked. “Won’t Grimskull be searching everywhere for you? Shouldn’t you be hiding in less public places? Perhaps recruiting some goblins, or ogres?”

  “Yes, possibly. No doubt that by now, Courtney will have informed the baron that, based on my threat, I would begin recruiting
allies to take them all down. But, much like you, Courtney would not assume I would enlist the aid of noble champions. So Grimskull’s people are more than likely searching the dark corners of his empire and inquiring among the Shadow Races. Also, Courtney knows where most of my secret caches of weapons, magical items, and gear are. With that in mind, both courses of action are off limits. I chose this inn because it is random and has no strategic value. But, according to the rules of the realms, an inn or tavern picked at random should actually prove to be my salvation.”

  “But sir,” Sophia protested.

  “Where do all the great quests begin, Sophia?”

  “In a bar, tavern, or inn.” Sophia sighed. “That’s brilliant, sir.”

  “I know,” I said. Sophia was clearly placating me. But she also knew I was correct, per usual. “How is my dear sister doing?”

  “She created a pocket universe just to destroy it,” Sophia informed me.

  “That’s Paige. She was always one to throw tantrums. Let me guess—she fears leaving the office and losing her power?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. Then she does not know how to store a portion of the power.”

  “Not yet, sir. That is why I have been avoiding her. I am sticking to her last command. But if she finds me, I will have to, at the very least, tell her anything she needs to know. To include our conversations.”

  “Sophia, do you still recognize me as the authority of that dimension?”

  “Yes sir. Why?”

  “Then that phone is now your phone,” I said. “So, when she eventually asks you to help find her phone, you can say?”

  “I have not seen nor have her phone,” Sophia finished. “Sir?”

  “Yes Sophia?”

  “Are you stalling?”

  “ . . . I guess I am. To anyone watching, at best, I’m a drunk standing outside an inn with his hand on the door, talking to himself. At worst, I’m just a weirdo doing the same thing. I have not employed this tactic before. What if I were to fail?”

  “Sir, permission to kick your ass for that line of thinking when you return?”

  I laughed a little. “Granted. You are right. I did not push my empire to the heights that it is by not using every tool available to me. So . . .”

  “So, time to be a—yuck—hero,” Sophia finished. I nodded and pushed the door open and walked in.

  The Crossroads Inn and Tavern was full that evening. People from all over were laughing and drinking, adventurers and locals alike. Music played and enjoyment was had by all. The drinks flowed and innocence was dying. Underneath the reverie were moments of creeping corruption. Pickpockets moved in the crowd, lining their pockets with ill-gotten gains via dexterous sleight of hand. Prostitutes solicited the unfaithful with whispers of promise. Gamblers attempted to cheat their way to small fortunes while honest folk let it happen.

  In other words, it was a random bar on any given night, anywhere.

  Perfect.

  You see, corruption is an aphrodisiac. Not just for the wicked like me, but for the just and the righteous as well. For the truly good cannot sit idly by in places of good. It’s ironic. Places where the most good congregates often become corrupted by the existence of evil. Conversely, places of sin like this often bring in people seeking to help those who refuse the path of the straight and narrow.

  So, all one had to do was peel back the layers and look. Under the filth was where I would find my champions. My heroes. My pawns to bring down my enemies.

  “Sir, you do realize you are broadcasting your monologue again?”

  Damn. I had not.

  “Sorry, Sophia. It’s a villain’s curse.”

  “Not to worry, sir, it was isolated to the phone only. And I must say it is very good to hear you back in your element. You are a great businessman. But you were even better in the field.”

  She was right. I did derive a sick pleasure from being back in the field. Limited options, limited resources, hunted and alone. My mind reeled with the possibilities.

  “OK, let’s keep our eyes open.”

  “Who are we looking for?”

  “Candidates.”

  I scanned the room and my mind did what it always did: assessed the potential in others and weighed my ability manipulate them for a net gain. The subtle trick was to keep any potential mark on the hook, unaware of my goals, and constantly take of their giving. Basically, an abusive relationship where they keep coming back.

  “How about him?” Sophia said. “The redheaded kid who looks lost and probably shouldn’t be in a tavern of any kind.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “What have I told you before about red-headed people in the fantasy realms?”

  “That they are almost always a hero. Especially if they have strange eyes. Green, blue, or gray.”

  “Close,” I said. “I said they were almost always a chosen one. A hero, yes, but their destiny usually has a much grander purpose. Saving the world from ultimate darkness and such predictable nonsense. I mean, look at him. Young and wide-eyed. I can practically smell the sheep dung on him. You have a pastoral kid looking like that, with just enough anger beneath the surface, I suspect he is looking for the answers to a familial tragedy, which will lead him on a winding saga and have him facing this realm’s darkest forces. Oh, that’s a grand story waiting to be told. So, for my purpose, it bores me. I’ve read that particular book over and over. And while I’m on the subject, do you how many red-headed people with odd eyes are littered about in science fiction and fantasy? The trope is disgustingly played out. Like recessive genes mean anything grander than they don’t do well in direct sunlight.”

  “A simple ‘no’ could have sufficed, sir.”

  “You needed context.”

  “Fine. How about her?”

  “The female in armor with short black hair and blue eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nope. She’s a villain. Or soon will be.”

  “Are you sure, sir?”

  “Yes, trust me. She has a very intelligent look and a desire about her. Being good won’t fulfill her.”

  “Wouldn’t she be perfect then? An ally?”

  “Normally, yes. But for what I plan on, I don’t need the eventual betrayal.”

  Sophia sighed. “Fine. And that one? The skinny girl in the corner with the rough homespun cloak.”

  “Runaway slave,” I said. “While I do not condone slavery, her quest will take several books to tell. We don’t have time for that.”

  “How about the tall, dark-haired, nondescript generic Caucasian over there? He seems to be a valiant warrior.”

  “Too noble. He is on a mission to right the wrongs of his past. No doubt everything he believed in is now a lie and he will stop at nothing to bring order to betrayers he once called allies. So, he will not be bendable to my will. Plus, they are always so enigmatic and boring.”

  “Fine, sir,” Sophia said, sounding defeated.

  She was clearly deflated by my critiques of her choices. It wasn’t her fault. I just had a particular vibe I was searching for, and not a lot of time. I looked about the room and scrutinized my options.

  A group of halflings? And me without a ring. No, no need to go down that path. I didn’t want to get sued.

  The fighter type in the back looked promising. Then I spotted the medallion he wore around his neck. The broken one. Nope. Half a medallion means he has a twin out there looking for him. No doubt an evil twin. Never get mixed up in family squabbles.

  The magical lady in the dark corner levitating her silverware? That could be useful. Oh, wait. No, no thank you. I just saw her eat a small metal ingot to fuel her magic. No ferromancy, not in my company. A ridiculous magical system a good tale does not make. Ugh, just like all those hacks out there who have one hare-brained mechanic idea and build a thin plot around it.

  I would never do something like that.

  The dark elf and dwarf companion? No, too righteous and too cliché. Besides, I didn’
t need the dark elf to steal my spotlight. I wasn’t a speciesist or anything, but few things entrance people, especially Caucasian women, like a beautiful, dark, exotic warrior. Hell, I was getting a little turned on looking at him. As they say, “Once you go Dark Elf . . . ”

  Here’s a fun fact: All dark elves have overly white-haired nether regions. They practically glow in the dark. Off-putting, to say the least. Sorry if that ruined your image of them. But they are not all Brad Pitt à la Fight Club, hairless and lean muscle with impeccable manscaping. Nope, they are quite the burly unkempt beasts down there. Plus, the women have teeth in their vaginas. But what do you expect from people who worship spider deities?

  “Any leads, sir?”

  “The pickings seem to be slim,” I said, “but I see a couple with potential. The overly built clergyman who’s just short of being a walking mountain. The one nursing his drink and staring into the fire is obviously a former soldier with a tortured past who has turned to a warrior’s religion. He has potential, but he’s not a leader. And then there is the auburn-haired female warrior over there,” I pointed out. She was the one thankfully not wearing fantasy armor bikini bullshit. Instead of steel, her armor was made of petrified wood. “She has potential.”

  “Which female, sir?”

  “Over there,” I said, staring at the woman.

  “The skinny guy with the patchy beard?”

  “No, that’s a woman in disguise as a man. Pretty standard fare, I’m afraid.”

  “Really? I didn’t see it.”

  “Hence the disguise,” I smirked.

  “Sir, didn’t you just say that redheads were off limits? Chosen ones and all that?”

  “My apologies, Sophia,” I said. “Unfortunately, sexism is alive and well in the realms. And, not just the punk-rock, metal-underwear-armor kind of sexism, I’m afraid. In the realms, female redheads almost always turn out to be great warriors, no matter how they start off. Naïve princesses or bar maidens, sooner or later they all end up great warriors. The added bonus is they almost never die. They sure as hell get hurt a lot, but they usually pull through.”