Free Origins of a D-List Supervillain by Jim Bernheimer Page A

her silence, the thing that bothered me the most was her piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare right through me.
    “I don’t believe the prisoner is telling the truth and I think it would be ill-advised to allow him parole at this time.”
    “You’re reading my mind!” I accused.
    “No,” she answered. “I am a receiving empath. My gift does not reach into your thoughts, but it does provide me insight to your attitudes and motivations. Better luck next year.”
    I could tell the rest of the vote was going to be a formality, but that’s when the lights went out and the alarms began ringing.
    All six of us stared at each other, wondering what to do for about thirty seconds.
    The Big Voice activated and said, “There is an attempted breakout underway in the lower levels. This is not a drill!”
    A guard in a regular uniform opened the door and addressed the parole board members, “Let’s get you out of here!”
    “Is the situation serious?” The chairperson asked.
    She was answered by a low rumbling, which shook the floor, at which point they dropped everything and ran to the door.
    “What about me?” I protested, not wanting to die.
    The guard gave me a dismissive look and said, “You sit your ass back down and stay here! Someone will come and get you eventually. All right everyone, remain calm, follow me, and I will get you to your transport in the courtyard.”
    The guard lingered long enough to lock the door before hustling the important people down the corridor. With little else to do, I stood and went to the window amidst the alarms. An eight man squad wearing Pummeler suits equipped with fifty caliber machine guns pounded their way across the concrete below, heading for the elevator staging area.
    There was a second explosion that sounded louder this time and I wondered how badly out of control the situation was going to get. I walked over to the table and wondered if I should flip it over to make a barricade...and rifle through all the things the board members left behind.
    It’s not like I’m already not in prison! Why the hell not?
    The empath’s purse had her cellphone in it. I thought about calling someone, but didn’t know who or if I’d get a signal.
    My parents? Nah! They don’t even like my letters. Bobby? Maybe, but he’d just laugh at this whole mess, plus he only gave me a postal box address to contact him.
    I’d settled on calling Joey, but then saw that she’d password protected her phone and set it aside. There was also a half-full pack of chewing gum, which was nice, and three twenties and two ones. I had no use for them, but I took them anyway. At my current salary of a dollar twenty-five per hour in the laundry room, this was more than I earned in a week.
    Walking back to the window, I saw my parole board climbing into a van when a blur shot by them. Blinking rapidly, I tried to follow the shape’s progress as it careened around the prison yard. It hopped on the back of one of the Pummeler suits and did a number that reminded me of the Tasmanian Devil from the old cartoons and left a bleeding man in a disabled suit sprawled on the ground.
    That must be Maxine Velocity! She’s like the fifth fastest person on the planet.
    I picked my brain for what I could remember from Ultradipshit’s ATAI. She couldn’t break the sound barrier and she topped out around six hundred miles per hour, but more importantly, she was the niece of General Devious. Devious was one of the big kahunas of the supervillain world. Someone said Maxine was up on the heavy hitters’ level and if she was out, I wondered how many others might be as well.
    A flash of lightning struck another Pummeler and sent him into a cybernetic seizure. That caused the fifty cal to sweep right across the van, riddling it with bullets. I cringed and turned away, hoping that some of the people I was just sitting across from might still be alive.
    That hope was dashed when the fuel tank exploded.
    Sure, they weren’t going