Chapter 107: 97.  Not A Supervillain

“Let it be heard from me that our police force values your efforts tonight. You heroes stopped a deadly attack and saved innocent lives,” grunted the Police Chief, a graying man trying his best to not arrest the magical vigilantes. “We are deeply in your debt, Death Maiden and Endless Lad.”

Jay leered from on top of the Downtown Museum with a bag of popcorn. He was sitting on a stone ledge, the building designed after a giant Spanish fort back in the times invaders kicked around the local people.

The museum had a mixed bag of stuff inside. Historical stuff. Art stuff. Stuff stuff. Tonight had been reserved for city planning and architectural ideas aimed toward renovating and improving Junkside. Or gentrifying it.

The banquet had invited rich folks to network and donate. As companies and nonprofits went around and brown nosed, the banquet had only drawn a modest sum of local media attention at the start. Rich people moving around lots of cash were more exciting to magical criminals while the layman wanted more Champion gossip instead.

Like the current internet craze surrounding Brit growing up as a crack baby who found band music and earth god as her way out of her poor living. She had been doing well for herself until the Gravity Devil corrupted her.

Apparently, Jay was the devil now.

And he could capture holy light and use it for evil. Kinda badass, honestly.

Not quite good for PR, though. They had to restock part of YoAnna’s wine cellar because Hailey worked through a bunch of bottles. She drank more than Jay these days.

Tonight, Hailey was going to drink even more.

Jay wasn’t hiding. Hell, he was limiting his [Champion Cloaking] Talent so the world could view him fully.

Below his dangling legs, the Police Chief muttered through a script his boss had him memorize. The news reporters shone lights and cameras on the Police Chief, Death Maiden, and Endless Lad while trying to record the Gravity Devil sitting high above the front entrance.

 “There is one troubling concern. I must ask if it was necessary to kill all the culprits?” the Police Chief asked purposefully as Emily and Tim posed as superheroes.

“We have to use extreme measures to ensure the safety of the civilians and our hardworking police force,” Emily responded smoothly as the Death Maiden.

Leather biker hat. Leather trench coat. Leather pants tucked into thigh-high boots with model tall heels. At least she broke up all the black with finely placed red laces, trims, and a domino mask. The cherry on top: a plate engraved with a skull and crossbones at the front of her hat. Not red or black, surprisingly. Straight silvery metal for the last touch.

Tim shrugged his shoulders as Endless Lad.

His outfit? Black street clothes under a yellow track jacket. A black and yellow balaclava with a movable hood covered his head.

Macy was probably throwing a fit from the Allens’ villa right now. Tim wouldn’t wear her outfits and show it off to the world. The [Crafter] should hold back on dishing out tight leather for the boys. Tim didn’t look like he would own leather pants.

Maybe Rick would.

“I’m sure you all are aware of how dangerous the world has become because of the apocalypse blood,” Emily said, sticking to popular phrasing. Even if it would hurt YoAnna to hear it. “Villains infected with the apocalypse blood are slipping past the military blockade to murder and grow their powers. The only way to stop them is using our magic granted by our world’s first and only goddess.”

Not truly a goddess, yet. But explaining that to the populace took too long. YoAnna would have to endure the incorrect but easy to digest buzzwords.

“We’ve saved everyone,” Tim said just loud enough for the camera mics. “Got a little messy, though. Sorry about the art. Got red on it.”

The mayor stepped into the scene right on cue.

“These are our heroes, people!” the mayor shouted passionately, ignoring the gasps and incited talk over the bloodstains on his disheveled white shirt.

The blood wasn’t his. It belonged to gangsters who had tried to take the mayor hostage. Death Maiden and Endless Lad had put a stop to that foolishness.

“These young people you see before you are doing divine work!” The mayor had to use ‘divine’ as the most neutral and simple word you could say when YoAnna was in the picture. “They risked life and limb. They saved the lives of families and colleagues and the good people wishing to help our city. They’re the same heroes who’ll go into Junkside and bring order there.”

Junkside was never the official name for the southern side of the city. But it was another easy to understand buzzword. Because the entire world was watching. 

YoAnna had invited the mayor to the potluck a few days back. They had come to a quick understanding over her concerns. And her ideas on how to alleviate her concerns.

The mayor was doing well, too. But the sight of Jay was too much for the reporters to stay on track. The reporters burst with a cascading tsunami of questions that overwhelmed the older men.

The Pantheon Commander and his Champions didn’t even bat an eye. No matter how audacious, ridiculous, inaccurate, and insane the question, the Champions were more familiar with the circus act now.

“The culprit behind the apocalypse blood is right above you!” shouted a local female news reporter known for tracking homicide cases. “Is there a reason he’s not brought in for trial?”

“Is it true that the Gravity Devil migrated from outer space?” asked a famous internet influencer with a large and quirky following.

“Is he seducing all the Champion women into polgamy like a magic harem fantasy?” asked a geeky guy.

“Is the goddess raising his secret monster child? Is her violent relationship with the Gravity Devil what caused the apocalypse blood?”

“Is it true that the Gravity Devil slaughters gangsters because he’s friends with gangsters, like the O’Kelly Family?”

“Is the gator girl his secret mistress?”

“Isn’t Endless Lad the alter ego of Timothy O’Kelly?” Everyone ignored this guy for not staying on code with the Gravity Devil craze.

“Are the captured roach girls Gravity Devil’s slaves? Are they truly trained to hide among us like ninjas?”

“Is it true his silver and gold eye can make you explode? And is there a way to protect yourself from these outrageous magic powers?”

“If we pray hard enough for Britney Williams, could she fight the evil powers of the Gravity Devil and save us from his apocalypse blood?”

“The Gravity Devil made normal families disappear overnight! What does he do to those families? Will they ever be released safely?” asked a frightened reporter.

“How can Death Maiden and Endless Lad be superheroes when they’re working with a supervillain like the Gravity Devil?” asked a snobbish guy.

“Can we talk to Mister Jay Luckrun directly?” inquired the most professional and famous reporter on the scene. He came all the way from the BBC, too. His curt British accent was an instant draw. “And is he the highest power of the entire Champion group?”

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“Bingo, bango, he’s getting a mango,” Jay whispered aloud for everyone to hear.

He stuffed his popcorn in his pouch and stood.

The air got heavier around them.

They all felt it. The reporters. The police. The random pedestrians, scared banquet guests hanging around nearby, lurking spies, and stupid gangsters trying to hide in the crowd and peep on the Champions.

Jay made sure the spies felt the pressure of his [Commanding Gravitas] Talent the most. The big wig three-letter agencies were trying to stay involved after the CWG disbanded a few weeks ago. Some elements were absorbed and smoothly integrated into the new and improved MPC 2.0.

Agent Cabana was doing good work for YoAnna even when Cabana wasn’t the director. It worked out better that way. The senior agent could move freely while the MPC supported the pantheon officially and clandestinely. The MPC pointed out which agency and their spies ignored the MPC warnings to cease and desist pantheon surveillance. The MPC also tracked some possible foreign spies moving about in the city.

The pantheon’s story had blown up to global proportions now. Big pieces were sliding in place as the pantheon neared the dungeon swarm incursion date.

Unfortunately, there were still matters at the homefront that needed to be resolved quickly. And competently. And personally.

Jay frowned as he realized he’d been standing wordlessly for a long minute. The reporters whispered amid themselves or waited with bated breath for him to speak.

Jay wished Kleo was here and not working things behind the scenes. She did a funny but wonderful job being his spokeswoman when available.

Still wondering what to say, Jay tilted gravity and walked down the front of the museum. The ooh’s and ah’s and shouts of wonder amused him a little.

Once he reached the ground, he still didn’t know what to say. He dawdled up, wearing his usual hoodie, joggers, and slippers with socks. Better quality stuff, too. YoAnna afforded him only designer. No gas station stuff.

Jay glanced up since the older men and his Champions were taller than him. Emily was especially taller with those thigh-high and very elevated boots. She had enough Agility to overcome her klutz nature, so the boots worked as heels, too.

Jay wanted to joke about how guys and girls viewing this would want Emily to step on them. Or they would kill to be in such an important position where everybody wanted to hear from them just like how they would hear from a weirdo like Jay.

But strangely, Jay found himself feeling a little tired already. The words still didn’t come to him. His ego felt meh.

“Speak the truth, man.” Mom waited in a dark and dirty alley half a block down. “Start from there.”

Jay nodded. He looked into the lights and cameras.

“A month and a few timelines ago, I had this high school nickname called Rooftop Weirdo,” Jay said. “I did a stunt that’s stupid in hindsight but was my attempt to get attention. Well, I have it. And it’s honestly more than I expected. I’m pretty far removed from that high school stuff now. And as funny as Gravity Devil sounds, it’s a bit closer to the truth while not quite all the way.

“I’m not a supervillain.

“I’m a hero of comedy. I try to have fun while in violent fights against monsters and villains. And sometimes I screw up.

“So, yeah, it’s true that the apocalypse blood is my fault. But I’m going to fix it with the rest of the Champions. Then we’re going to fight a goblin invasion that wants to tear our world apart.

“No worries. We’re getting stuff setup globally. Had some issues with China, but we worked it out. Gonna put a stop to the Roach King, the Rebel Angels, their supporters, and save our city soon. Then the entire world next week. Thank you.”

Jay nearly left it at that, but stopped for a moment with a finger raised.

“And I’m not the highest power. I’m still Level 25 while everyone else is between Level 26 to Level 29. Just a few more levels from Rank 3.”

Most people might wonder how that could be since he seemed like the most important figure of the Protectorates. But most people didn’t think like Jay and had abilities to shift Experience around. There was a whimsical plan in place, and Jay followed it by putting his Champions first as they got closer to evolving to Rank 3.

The media personalities burst out with more questions. Some inane. Some serious. All a little overwhelming for Jay right now.

Jay turned to his Champions and the older gents. “I totally messed that up. Handle things for me from here, please.”

Before the older men could say anything, Emily let out a small pulse of Death Affinity. She silenced them by making them feel a cold bony finger slide down their spines. That seemed excessive, but they were about to put up resistance to Jay’s orders, and this wasn’t the time for that. So, good on Emily for putting that to rest.

“Will you be okay, Commander Luckrun?” she asked curtly. They still hadn’t warmed up completely after Team Noir’s disbanding. After Old Malcolm….

“No,” Jay said. “Gotta see to personal matters. You know how it is.”

Tim jerked his head toward the crowd and squinted. He wanted to deal with the gangsters milling around as lookouts.

“Nuh-uh,” Jay said, low enough for only his most Perceptive Champions. “They will be dealt with by traps and shadows.”

They’d keep one or two alive for questioning at the Pantheon Estate. Jay had given the go ahead that torture was allowed if necessary.

“Hailey wants you to field more questions, Endless. You got a decent following for being straightforward and blunt.” Jay looked from Tim to Emily. “And, yes, you look great, Death Maiden. Femme fatale 2.0 is a go. Keep up the good work.”

His Champions reacted differently, mostly out of annoyance. But they would see to the needs of the pantheon. Even if it meant facing the media circus while doing their best to keep their souls intact.

Cameras still rolling, people still watching, Jay faced away from everybody. He held out his hand toward a dark alley off to the side. He didn’t need to, but it was good to make people think his hand movements matter a lot when they didn’t. It also made him look like Darth Vader.

With a flex of gravity and telekinesis, he carried his mom from the alley to the top of the steps. Out from the darkness and into the light, she stood like an 80s punk hero.

White converse sneakers and fingerless gloves. Light blue jeans and matching jacket. The words BAD MOMMA BEAR embroidered into the back above a cartoon bear holding a machete and a jug of booze. A riot of colors from the pinks and reds weaved into her locks to the neon green and sun yellow laces tying her shoes. The machete in its scabbard behind her, fixed upside down on a stiff belt harness, finished the look.

The reporters entered a new frenzy while Mom kept her back to them.

She glanced over her shoulder and beamed a smile that would eat impossible things for breakfast. “Sak pase?” What’s up? “I’m the mom of the devil.”