people
around the table in sudden suspicion. “At least… not that I KNOW OF, any way...”
“He patently refuses to give any
information on the extent or nature of his powers to anyone, even if that means
being defeated in battle rather than using a power which he is suspected of
possessing.” Wyatt nodded. “Nice. Is there a particular reason why you won’t
say what you can do?”
Cynic rolled his eyes. “Yeah,
forgive me if I’m not big on sharing. Shit, what’s the first thing you
bastards are going to do with that knowledge? You’re going to try to figure
out ways to counteract my powers in case you ever want to kill me.
Forget it. You sons-a-bitches are in for a big fucking shock the day you come
to take ME out! You’ll have no idea what my weaknesses are, and you’ll
be left with sweet-fuck-all!”
Wyatt squinted at him in confusion.
“So, your plan is to spend the rest of your life not using your powers because
you’re under the paranoid delusion that the rest of us actually give a shit
about you?”
The man leaned forward in his
chair. “You really wanna know what my powers are so bad? Okay, I have
the power to ignore stupid questions from idiots who have already betrayed ONE
group of coworkers this week who foolishly trusted him with knowledge of their fucking
powers.” He paused. “Oh, and I can fly.”
The Librarian removed a pen from
her briefcase. “According to Consortium of Chaos personnel files, Mr.
O’Probrian does not currently have the power of flight, unless he has somehow
managed to manifest these abilities since his annual company physical three
weeks ago.”
Cynic glared at her. “Stay out of
this, Libs! No one asked you. I got a TON of powers that no one ever
gives me credit for, okay? For instance, I have the ability to NOT dress like Mary fucking Poppins every day.” He looked up and
down at her clothes. “I can see you’re still struggling with that
problem though, so let me use my powers to help you. Here’s what you do: when
you go to the store, steer clear of the ‘Frumpy English School Marm ’ section
and then…”
Wyatt cut him off by continuing to
read the dossier. “Currently wanted for all manner of crimes involving the
mail and the internet, as well as murder, stalking, throwing police stop sticks
onto the track during the last lap of the Daytona 500 causing all the racers’
tires to go flat and spin-out, industrial espionage, horse theft, somehow managing
to alter the Lincoln Memorial so that instead of showing the great emancipator,
it became a statue of himself giving onlookers the finger… and we’re STILL not sure how he accomplished that one exactly, criminal mischief…”
“…Throwing Baby Jessica down that
well…Shooting Bambi’s mom…”
“...destruction of both private and
federal property, and violations of the 1967 Treaty on Principles Governing
the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, including
the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies for his attempt to oversee construction
of the C of C’s Moon-based laser assault platform.”
Cynic shook his head in mock regret.
“We would have gotten away with that too, if it hadn’t been for you meddling
kids!” He laughed. “And you forgot about that time I used the 10 items
or less line at the Mega-Mart when I had…*GASP*… TWELVE items!”
Librarian underlined something in
her paperwork and didn’t bother to look up at Wyatt. “Your folder is incorrect,
Fabricator. The International treaty of which you are speaking, now known as The Outer Space Treaty , covers only the signing sovereigns and not private
citizens within those countries. As such, Mr. O’Probrian cannot be charged
with an alleged private violation of the treaty, despite the fact that he is a
member of a supposed international criminal organization.”
Wyatt flipped through the files quickly
and found the one he was looking for.