waited for the applause to die down and then went on to the second nominee: Psi-Metal. The one-time Turkish super hero was adored since he decided to join team evil. What made Psi-Metal so damned dangerous was the fact that he could turn his flesh-and-blood body into pure PS-9, a super-dense organic metal capable of augmenting any psychic energy that went through it. Without the metal, he could send his mind out and remote view anyone within six miles of him. With the metal, he could target anyone on the planet. Worse, the PS-9 did wonders for his telekinesis, allowing him to pick up skyscrapers like they were loaves of bread.
Never stable to begin with, Psi-Metal was so powerful that he got bored with saving the world (analysts claim it became just too easy). Annoyed with the bureaucracy of his own government, Psi-Metal merely destroyed the lab where he was enhanced and killed anyone who knew how to stop him. So far, he had earned quite a reputation during his four-month stint as a super villain. First, he went to the mountain villa of Baron Despotic, swatted aside the baron’s defenses, and ripped him (vertically) in half. Then, he simply claimed Despotic’s syndicate as his own. Seeing as Baron Despotic had won a Villain-Of-The-Year award ten years ago, such a feat alone was impressive enough to be considered for this year’s award.
But then Psi-Metal started breaking super villains out of prison. That made him really popular and earned him a swarm of loyal super minions. The rules of his new outfit were pretty simple. Once in a while, he’d give one of his crew an order – which he expected to be obeyed without fail. The members of his syndicate could do anything to anyone except for fellow syndicate members and folks under his protection. They were actually encouraged to engage in mayhem and anarchy. And, should they be arrested, he would break them out again. Lastly, 10% of any profits they made went to him … or else.
Naturally, any crook with half-a-brain either worked for him or paid him for protection. I heard that even some super heroes paid this guy protection money! Even Lady/Killer paid Psi-Metal. While she probably wanted him dead, even she wasn’t crazy enough to go to war with someone who could kill her from half-a-world away. Besides, other crooks had been stupid enough to try to take out Psi-Metal in the past (for whatever reason). In the end, their mutilated remains always ended up on the evening news. The funny thing was that Psi-Metal could lose his powers right now and no one would be in a hurry to mess with him.
Why?
Well, first off, Psi-Metal avoided the spotlight. He normally kicked back in one of his hidden, heavily guarded, nuke-resistant bunkers around the world. His most trusted lieutenants would rather endure a decade of torture than betray their very sadistic employer. Also, anyone lucky enough to kill him would have hundreds of pissed-off super villains out for blood.
Psi-Metal was in his own private balcony, which was shielded by a bluish telekinetic force field bubble that he easily sustained. He didn’t have any minions in his immediate vicinity. But rumor was that they were scattered throughout the building. Psi-Metal made so few public appearances that they feared someone would try to kill their beloved leader this very night.
Some had even urged him to stay home and have someone else claim the award. But the by-laws of the contest required finalists to be present or be disqualified: with the only exceptions being death or imprisonment. Covered head-to-toe in bronze-hued PS-9, he stood up in his black tux and waved. The audience gave him a super-long round of applause. Odds were that he’d either win this award or steal it from the winner’s broken corpse.
Once the applause died down, I introduced the final nominee: Mr. Coin. Born in the Zinothian netherworld, the wealth demon had almost god-like powers: which were based solely on the presence of money. If all he had to work with was a penny, he could only cast simple magicks (like lighting a cigarette). Leave him with a few million in cash and he could burn down half a city with a glance. The only problem was that whenever he used money as a mystical power source, it burned away like wood in a fireplace. So when he stumbled upon this world last year, Mr. Coin became one of the best thieves in history.
He’s stolen everything from military secrets to priceless works of art, only to fence them to the highest bidder for straight-up cash. What made him popular was that he’d do the occasional “errand” if the money was right. Pay Mr. Coin a ton of loot and he could work miracles. I then ran over the list of his most artful crimes, which easily made him a worthy contender for Villain-Of-The-Year.
Six months ago, a client hired him to drive all nine Supreme Court justices insane. The next day, all nine justices went on a cross-country killing spree: complete with judicial robes, hockey masks, and assorted sharp objects. Mr. Coin made them super strong, very tough, and cheetah-quick as part of the curse. As of yet, they still haven’t been caught. Three months ago, he made the President of the United States grow humongous boobs during a speech condemning gay marriage. The Commander-in-Chief had to get breast reduction surgery, much to his downright humiliation.
But last week’s caper really made headlines.
The Money PeakCasino/Hotel was celebrating its Grand Opening in Las Vegas. It was simultaneously hosting a massive law enforcement convention, which resulted in the hotel being overbooked. Over a thousand police officers, from around the nation, were going to be in one place. When Mr. Coin heard about this, he did what any civic-minded super villain would do. First, he pulled off an ingenious daylight heist of the casino itself (worth roughly $90 million in cash). Then he piled the stolen loot around himself and used it to teleport the entire building away from him and into the bottom of the South Pacific.
The big screen flashed to show underwater camera footage of the Money Peak at the bottom of an undersea trench, crushed by the pressure of the darkened deep. Applause broke out as interior camera angles showed drowned corpses being feasted upon by sharks as they floated about lifelessly. Finally, the screen flashed over to Mr. Coin, who sat in a third balcony. The slender, granite-hued demon rose and bowed deeply in his crimson tux before throwing an armful of gold coins into the audience. As the crowd erupted into applause, Psi-Metal and Lady/Killer glared at Mr. Coin from their respective balconies.
It was time to announce the winner.
As the drum roll began, I noticed a small green laser dot on my torso. I pulled the tiny card (with the winner’s name) out of the envelope and looked up to see one of Lady/Killer’s minions aiming a high-powered rifle at me. Then, I felt an invisible grip firmly wrap itself around my still-beating heart. I didn’t need to look up at Psi-Metal to realize the nature of his handiwork. Lastly, something felt like it was inching out of my wallet, which was full of twenty-dollar bills. I stayed in character, unsure of what to do, as I felt razor-sharp spikes gently poke through my tux and prick the small of my back. Mr. Coin did have a flair for the dramatic.
I wished that I could have had a good chance to kill my agent for landing me this gig. Ah well, they were probably going to kill me anyway, seeing as I wasn’t truly evil or anything. Taking in a final deep breath I uttered the words…
“And the winner of the 2007 Villain-Of-The-Year Award is …”
THE GUNNY
Gunnery Sergeant Ned Urlich emitted a soft grown as he slowly regained consciousness. Red alert klaxons blared as Urlich surveyed the cramped interior of his coffin-shaped cryobed. In his late thirties, the grizzled marine had been in quarantine stasis since an exploration run on Planet GS-453. An isolated swamp world near the Galactic Rim, Planet GS-453’s environment was toxic to human life but ideal for space armor drills.
Urlich was leading such a drill when he was swept off a low cliff by a rockslide. The half-mile fall didn’t hurt him. But it did rupture the right shoulder seal on his armor. His men quickly patched the leak, before the planet’s toxic atmosphere could kill him off. Yet, he picked up some sort of contagious viral infection that the
