Chapter 59

CRIME-A-LOT

Very early the next day, Alexander stood on a low platform while an elderly tailor circled him like a hawk, tugging at sleeves and muttering to himself in accented English. Augustus lounged nearby in a chair a touch too small for his frame, reading a tablet and looking completely at home.

“I still don’t understand why this is necessary,” Alexander said.

Augustus glanced up at him. “We can’t have you hiring a private jet looking like you normally do.”

“What’s wrong with my normal look?”

The tailor clicked his tongue, interrupting the conversation. “Double-breasted, clean cut. Simple and practical. None of your usual overdressed nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” Augustus asked, raising a brow. “A three-piece is the mark of civilization. The waistcoat makes the man.”

The tailor snorted, shaking his head as he slid the simpler jacket over Alexander’s shoulders. “If you had any sense, boy, you’d have accepted long ago that simplicity is style.”

“And yet,” Augustus said smoothly, “I still need to rescue the lad from your lack of it. Clearly, a pinstripe single-breasted Italian three-piece is going to suit him better than that boxy American monstrosity you grabbed.”

Alexander stared at the mirror, the jacket sitting awkwardly against his frame, and wondered how much longer he’d be trapped in this ridiculous charade. He would prefer to be working on any of half a dozen different projects he had in mind, instead of standing here while two old men argued about buttons and lapels.

The tailor stepped back, squinting. “You want him to look suave? He’s no rich bachelor. Just a villain, like you, you blasted fool.”

“Supervillain. And nothing says we can't be stylish. Better that than him being mistaken as a farmer heading to a wedding.”

Alexander sighed, tugged at the cuff, and thought longingly of his workshop. With at least some of Grimnir planning to accept the individual combat quest, he needed to find time after the mission to prepare some things for the team.

Including an upgrade or two for himself.

Far too much time later, Alexander stepped out of the shop in a three-piece suit that had cost more than anything else he’d ever worn. Combined. The fabric hugged closer than he liked, stiff in the wrong places, but when he caught his reflection in the window, he hesitated. He didn’t look half bad. Not like himself, but not bad.

The bell over the door jingled as Augustus followed him out, his broad frame filling the doorway. Behind him, the old tailor called after, “And don’t be a stranger, son. Even if you have become a bloody supervillain.”

Augustus grinned, unbothered. “I’ll stop by again soon, Pops.”

Alexander blinked, turning to look at him as they started down the street together. “That was your father? You didn’t say anything.”

Augustus shrugged easily. “We don’t see eye to eye on much. But I still love the old goat. I drop in when I can to make sure he hasn’t kicked the bucket yet.”

Alexander digested that in silence for a moment. “I don’t know what that would feel like,” he admitted. “My father always supported me in whatever I wanted to do.”

Augustus gave him a knowing smile. “Don’t let the bickering fool you. Pops hated it when I joined the military. Hated that I chose to be a ranger. Hated it when I signed up for experimental superpowers. And now he hates that I’m a supervillain.” He paused. “He also hates my taste in suits, but he’s always been there for me no matter how loud or how often he said otherwise.”

Alexander walked in silence. He wished that one difference between this world and his had been that his family were still alive.

Then he chuckled.

“What?” Augustus asked.

“Just thinking about how my parents would have taken it. Me becoming a supervillain, I mean. I think that would have been a bit too much for them.”

“They might have surprised you,” Augustus said, turning down an alleyway. “Good parents are like that.”

Alexander swept outward with his senses, checking that they weren’t being watched, then followed.

A minute later, Alexander stepped out of a portal into a toilet cubicle at Argentum International Airport, Droney hovering over his shoulder. Opening the door, he stepped out and plucked the ‘Out of Order’ sign from the handle, tossing it in the bin on the way out.

Talia had arranged their safe portal location, of course. A few hundred credits for some stranger to put a sign up to keep it empty.

The terminal beyond was loud with people rushing every which way, automatic rolling suitcases faithfully zipping behind them.

Alexander adjusted the sunglasses Augustus had given him. With a pulse of Technopathy, he ordered all the cameras to ignore him completely. Facial and threat recognition was the primary concern, but he didn’t mind overdoing it. He wouldn’t be here long enough for them to identify the problem.

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He threaded his way through the crowd, heading for the check-in counter, when a flicker in his vision signalled he’d received an information packet. He pulled it up without slowing.

Despite losing the implants, the System had replaced all their existing functionality. Some of it was better, he grudgingly admitted. Then he read the information and came to a stop. His eyes scanned the name of his fake persona and the accompanying details.

“What the hell is this, Talia?” he hissed out loud.

A couple of people swerved around him, carefully not looking at him.

There was a pause on the comms. Then Talia’s voice, small but clear. “I’m sorry. Annie convinced me she’d do a better job pretending to be the bubbly assistant, so I let her make the call.”

Alexander groaned. Of course she did.

He resumed walking, shoulders slumped in resignation, and stepped up to the VIP check-in.

The attendant behind the counter smiled with professional warmth. “Good day, sir. Welcome. How may I assist you?”

Alexander adjusted his cuffs and forced his voice to be steady. “I’m here to finalize the details of my charter. A private jet, transatlantic flight. United States to Europe, over the Alps.” He tried for a bored tone, aiming to sound like this was the sort of thing he did regularly.

“Of course, sir,” she said. “I’ll just need your name to pull up the reservation.”

He gritted his teeth, then forced it out. “Xander Crimalot.”

Annie’s snickering filled the comms.

The attendant didn’t miss a beat, tapping briskly at her console. “Yes, here we are. Everything is in order. May I see your identification, Mr. Crimalot?”

Alexander gestured subtly, and his drone floated closer. The new glowing blue-black visor made it look like a genuine personal assistant drone, and its sleek black armor marked it as the expensive, exclusive sort.

The attendant raised a small handheld scanner, holding it steady while she waited for the drone to transfer the details.

Alexander reached over with Technopathy, brushing against the terminal’s systems with authority.

Do not verify. Just confirm that it’s valid.

The machine chirped an agreeable tone. The attendant smiled. “Everything checks out, Mr. Crimalot. I see you’ve also requested no flight attendants.”

“Yes,” Alexander said. “Privacy is important to me.”

“Of course, sir. That won’t be a problem.” She scrolled further. “Ah, and you’ve opted for the luxury entertainment package. I must say, you have excellent taste. I’m also a fan of The Adventures of the Galactic Barkforce.”

Alexander’s eye twitched behind his glasses. “Yes. Thank you.”

“That brings us to the total: one hundred and thirty-two thousand credits. How would you like to pay today?”

“Anonymously.” He held up a black cred stick and tapped it against the reader.

The machine beeped, performing its task. As he often did, he allowed his senses to wash over the transaction, trying to understand the complicated cryptographic algorithms pulsing back and forth across the Galactic Bank’s faster-than-light comms network.

He had no way of actually affecting these transfers, other than making the machine at his end pretend that the transaction was a success. Which he didn’t, in this case allowing the purchase to go through. The only way he might ever overcome that problem would be by travelling to the bank’s servers… wherever they were. That the System had so casually hooked itself into it was disturbing, no matter how he looked at it.

Making an enemy of what was probably the most powerful entity in the known galaxy was a thought for another day, though. He just wasn’t sure anymore if the title went to the galactic bank, or the System.

The machine chirped, completing the transaction a second after it started.

The attendant’s smile brightened. “Payment confirmed. Thank you, Mr. Crimalot. I hope you have a wonderful flight.”

Alexander inclined his head and turned toward the private terminal.

As the polished flooring clicked under his shoes, he muttered over comms, “I am literally going to have your life in my hands in five hours.”

Annie’s laughter burst across the channel unrestrained.

Augustus cut in smoothly. “So far, so good. Drone feed is crystal clear.”

The process of clearing the terminal was as smooth as the payment. A polite attendant guided him through a short lounge, down a hushed corridor, and out onto the tarmac. The hoverjet waited, glossy white with blue trim gleaming under the early morning sunlight.

A man in a crisp pilot’s uniform descended the steps. He carried himself with professional ease, his smile both genuine and rehearsed. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Captain Valen. I like to greet my passengers so they can put a face to the man flying them. Rest assured, you’ll have complete privacy for the duration of your journey.”

They shook hands. “Xander Crimalot,” Alexander said.

The captain nodded once, then stepped aside. Alexander climbed the short stairway into the cabin.

Inside, the luxury was understated but undeniable. Alexander moved briskly from end to end, scanning each surface, each fixture, with Technopathy. He found no hidden cameras or sensors of any kind. Satisfied, he slid into one of the reclining leather seats.

“All clear,” he said.

Thirty seconds later, a shimmer tore open the air as the portal formed, and the rest of Grimnir stepped aboard the plane.

Annie claimed the big screen the moment she stepped through the portal, kicking her boots onto the edge of the opposite seat and queuing up her show. The theme jingle filled the cabin within seconds, cheerful and absurdly out of place.

“I’m taking a nap,” Talia announced, already stowing her kit beneath a seat. She stretched out, hands tucked behind her head, and closed her eyes without waiting for a response.

Augustus lowered himself into a seat across from Alexander, tugged the stopper free from a crystal decanter taken from the minibar, and poured amber whiskey into a glass that caught the light. He swirled it once, then raised it in a casual salute before sipping.

Alexander leaned back, staring across the cabin. “The plane will be empty when it arrives. They’ll know something’s up,” he said, considering the ramifications of crossing international borders as a supervillain.

Augustus shrugged, unconcerned. “We’re villains, not Boy Scouts. Let them add it to our bounty. If they even can anymore.”

Then his brow furrowed, and he tapped a thoughtful finger against the glass. “Wait. Annie might be right. Maybe we do need calling cards for moments like this. Otherwise, how will they know it was us?”

Alexander squinted at him in suspicion. “You enjoy these shenanigans far too much.”

Augustus grinned. “When you get to my age, and you’ve seen and survived the things I have, you learn to take your fun where you can get it.”

“Like taking pleasure in my suffering?” he joked.

“Like taking pleasure in your suffering,” Augustus agreed, taking another sip.