LeftOvers - How to Become a SuperVillain and Take Over the World

TGIF

"Alright, your superior intellect has swayed me," I said. "Teams are important... if only because they're seen as being important. If that's the case, then what the hell is wrong with ours?"

Clarence nodded, a tight knot appearing between his eyes. "I think we're the leftovers. The chaff that didn't fit in with any other team out there, so we were pushed together. My abilities are not all that useful in a fight, and I don't think yours are either."

"They can be," I muttered. I waved for him to continue.

"This might be a good thing, or it might be a very bad one. We're going to have teammates with very... unique abilities, I think."

I nodded. It made sense, and I was inclined to listen to the kid's ideas. Behind all his roundabout ways of talking he was very intelligent, and I had the impression that I was only scratching the surface of what he knew. "The trick will be to find our other team members and convince them to hang around. We are at a disadvantage if we can't prepare for every eventuality."

Clarence nodded and absentmindedly took another sip of his drink. He gagged. After a few coughs (I did try to suppress my grin), he spoke again. "Preparing will be key. How do you intend to go about it?"

"Have you ever read any spy thrillers?"

He blinked. "Like James Bond, by Ian Fleming, or Ludlum's Bourne? Yes, of course I have."

"Good," I said. I leaned forwards onto the table, putting my elbows on either side of my empty mug. "You're going to become our little spy, my dear Clarence."

He paused. I could almost see the gears turning in his head. If I knew anything about Intellects, he was thinking of every possible angle in which my words could be twisted. "I would not have thought of it myself, and I don't know if it will work out as I think you're planning, but I'll do it," he said. It was amusing to work with someone that didn't need any explaining. "What about our teammates?"

I glanced up and towards the entrance when the bell above the door jingled. I had long ago learned to sit with my eyes on the nearest exit and back to the wall There was a silhouette of a woman framed by the doorway. "You're not the only one that can prepare," I said.

Lillian Blackwood stood in the entrance, her wide eyes scanning the room until she found one of the surly waitresses. She said something I didn't catch.

For the past two nights I had been walking around the campus and the shops nearby. Yesterday, my searching had paid off. Lillian was a frequenter of this fine establishment, if the waitress I bribed was to be believed.

It wasn't stalking, I swear.

I waited until she sat down on a cracked, pleather seat not too far from the entrance. Not half a minute later the waitress returned with a large cup filled with a mocha-latte-frappa-cappa-something or other.

I motioned with my head towards the girl, then stood up. As I passed by, I put a hand on Clarence's shoulder. "I'll try to see what I can do. How about you start on our little project?"

Without waiting for a response I moved across the room and pulled out the chair facing Lillian.

She started and looked up at me.

She wore a normal school uniform, though like the one she had on two days ago, it seemed to hug her in every right way. Lillian shifted in her seat, her face set with a bit of confusion. "Hello," she said with unexpected calm and poise.

Last time I had seen her she'd been ready to tear my head off my shoulders. This time Lillian seemed downright noble. "Hey," I replied, giving her one of my most winsome grins. "I was hoping to talk to you," I said.