Cloned Evil

The Good Doctor

The lab was dark, but Doctor Atomic didn’t mind. He didn’t even notice in the glow of his computer screen, music blaring through his headphones as his fingers moved across the keys. An energy drink sat to his right on top of his top hat, empty. He hadn’t gotten up in hours and he wasn’t sure when he’d blinked last. 

He was almost done with his latest project. There was a little known branch of the government that kept records of every hero and villain in existence, including their identities when they weren’t punching one another. It was well protected, but he had thought up a curious little AI that was just human enough to get past the first set of barriers so that it could locate the database. All that was left after that was to download the information and decrypt it all at his leisure later. 

The idea had come to him at some point between getting his leg broken by that oaf of a hero and pulling himself up onto the pair of crutches sitting behind him. He could have healed his leg first, admittedly, but by the time he got to the lab, his mind was already spinning with ideas. He could get the healing formula out of containment any time, but the code swam in his mind, anxious to get out. 

All that was left was transmission. He’d need to route it through a few dozen proxies before it finally landed in the storage chip in his watch. It should only take a few more hours to code in the secure transfer and he could sit back and wait for the information to roll in. 

He might be able to retire with the information. On the one hand, he could sell it off in pieces to the highest bidders, one secret identity at a time. If someone did notice him in the system and saw him make off with the data, though, it was a simple matter of slowly releasing the information to the public until they paid him off. And, of course, his capture would only force more information out to the public. Since no one was supposed to even know they had it, they would do better to try and keep him quiet. 

They wouldn’t notice him in there, though. Not until well after he made it look like someone else had done it. 

Something pulled down his headphones. “Hello Doctor. That looks fascinating.”

He blinked and his dry eyes readjusted to the screen. In the reflection, he saw the black woman dressed in red leaning over his shoulder, and looking at the lines of code on the screen. “Jezebel,” he said, spinning his chair around. “I’m not hiring.”

“Who says I’m looking for work?” Jezebel leaned in, her hands on his arm rests and bringing herself in close. 

Doctor Atomic did not move. If he looked down, he would have been able to see every curve of her body, but he kept his bored eyes on hers. He knew this was wrong already. He had two men outside his door at all times and Jezebel was usually at least a little winded after a fight. Her eyes were still brown, meaning she hadn’t absorbed any powers to make her entry any easier. 

He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand and letting his other hand drift down the side of his chair. “I’m not hiring your friend either,” he said, his right hand grasping the gun hidden in the side of his chair. He rolled his shoulders and kept eye contact as he brought his right hand back up and behind him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in no condition to be doing much right now.”

“Oh, you can fix that,” Jezebel said, leaning in on his right so close he could feel her breath on his face. He didn’t flinch. “I haven’t forgotten how you fixed me.” She put her hand on his arm, running her fingers gingerly down to his wrist. She grabbed it and yanked it up, finding it empty. 

“A little paranoid, Jezebel?” Doctor Atomic asked. “Not that it wouldn’t be justified. I’m sure we can work something out, though. Who are you working with and when is she going to show herself?”