Villain Complex [PREVIEW]

Chapter One

Supervillains weren't supposed to pay for coffee. In fact, Julian Godfrey had come into this very cafe last week—in full costume—to demand a free latte on his way home from holding a CEO hostage. He'd already forgotten the man's name, but the ransom money was going to fund some lavish apartment upgrades.

But today, Julian wasn't here for a drink. He was here to sit in the corner of the cafe and send emails and read and, of course, finalize his plan to take an entire city block hostage. Rather than a villainous costume, he was dressed in the clothes he wore to his day job at the library: black pants, a dark purple button-up, and a black blazer.

He did still want his coffee, though.

Julian contemplated tonight's plan as he stood in line. He'd been preparing for months, and it had taken a lot of training to ensure he'd be able to pull it off. This would be the biggest demonstration of his power yet.

Most importantly, he'd be doing this alone. He had to. If he succeeded, the city would have to realize him as a true threat. He was already feared, to a degree, but maybe they'd finally regard him with the same awe as they did Blazar.

Julian planned to relinquish control of the apartment block in exchange for a considerable sum of cash. Not the most original idea, but money wasn't his real goal, anyway. He was going to lure in the city's biggest hero and completely destroy him. Or at least, kick his ass hard enough to keep him out of commission for a few months.

One of the cashiers waved Julian over. "Next, please!"

"Macchiato. Sixteen ounce," he told her.

"That'll be five ninety-eight."

Julian opened his wallet and pulled out a single five-dollar bill. Damn, he'd thought he had more cash. "Hold on, let me find my card—"

"You're a dollar short?" came a voice from his right.

Julian glanced up. The girl who'd spoken removed a dollar from her own wallet and held it out to him. He briefly considered turning it down. He had plenty of money to burn, after all.

But why say no to convenience?

"Thank you," Julian said, looking her over as he accepted the dollar. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, probably around five three. Her skin was light brown, her eyes a few shades darker, she wore a white flannel over an oversized teal New Atlas University tee, and—

"Your hair's blue," he noted, lifting an eyebrow. Her curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was dark brown for only a few inches at the roots. The rest was a faded turquoise.

She laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot. And it's no trouble, really."

Julian watched her walk away while the cashier finished the transaction.

"Here's your change, your drink will be ready in a minute." The cashier dropped a couple of pennies into his hand. "Next!"

Julian moved to the edge of the cafe. Surprise lingered with him, surprise that someone would offer a complete stranger a dollar without being threatened. Yes, sure, some people were just nice like that. But he'd already been reaching for his credit card. That was what really gave him pause.

He was curious enough to consider approaching the girl, getting a better read on her, but she grabbed her drink and left before he could settle on what to say. An employee called out his order a moment later. He grabbed his coffee and found a seat in a corner of the cafe.

You don't take a free drink from a restaurant because you can't afford it, Blazar had told him once. If you're after money, you rob a bank. You take the drink to remind people you could be anywhere, at any time. You take the drink to remind people that they're never really safe.