The Rules of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 1) by C.T. Phipps Page B

arms.
    I paused, thinking. “Well, first off, I have superpowers. You don’t. Second, I’d take it personally.”
    Cindy bit her lip, looking deep in thought. “Right. Never mind.”
    “You have nothing to fear from me. It would be dishonorable to turn upon an employer before they have betrayed me.”
    Cindy looked annoyed more than anything. “I never understood the whole ‘honorable supervillain’ shtick. Wouldn’t the fact alone that you’re a thief make you dishonorable?”
    “No,” Diabloman said. “It would not.”
    “It’s important for evil to have standards. Otherwise, nothing separates you from the common rabble,” I explained, using my great knowledge of evil derived from comic books and movies.
    “You have already learned the first two lessons I would impart,” Diabloman said. “Show no fear to your enemies and never compromise whatever principles you choose to live by. These will make it so even your enemies respect you.”
    “Were you serious about killing every other supervillain in Falconcrest City?” Cindy asked, just now realizing she wasn’t dealing with the harmless man she’d dated.
    “If they get in my way, yeah,” I said, watching the various foreboding buildings of downtown pass by. “There can be just one king of the hill, after all. Plus, I don’t mind killing bad people. Is that a problem, Diablo?”
    “No,” Diabloman said. “That is Rule Three. Never trust another supervillain. Rule Number One is you must never kill a superhero.”
    “What?” Cindy asked, staring at Diabloman in shock. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “No,” Diabloman replied. “If you kill a supervillain you will receive respect and praise. Better still, you will receive fear. If you kill a superhero you will receive condemnation and hatred. Every superhero in the world will consider it their personal duty to bring you to justice. Very often, you will not be taken alive, even by the greatest paragons amongst them. Believe me, I speak from experience on this.”
    “Is that why supervillains leave superheroes in easily escapable death traps?” I was only half-joking.
    “Yes,” Diabloman said, without irony.
    Cindy was, however, still focused on my earlier words. “Hold on, back to this murder every other supervillain thing. Does this include the cute sexy ones?”
    Looking in my rear view mirror, I saw her clutch her hair bunches and give me a pearly white smile.
    Smirking at her transparent attempts to manipulate me, I said, “I don’t know. I’ll have to run that by my wife. I’m sure she’ll ask me to spare one or two of them in the future.”
    “Eesh.” Cindy blanched.
    “Anything else?” I said, driving through the dark and dingy streets of Falconcrest City.
    “You will need to spend most of the money you acquired on this heist,” Diabloman said.
    “What?”  I was tempted to hit the brakes. I’d been envisioning a certain amount of financial security from this point on.
    “To be a supervillain, you must command respect from your henchmen. For that, you must display the wealth they are expected to have. You must be flashy and theatrical in a way which intimidates and inspires others to want to be around you.”
    “Uh-huh”
    Cindy nodded, understanding. “It’s why gangsters wear lots of gold rings and necklaces. I learned that in Super-Criminal Psychology 101.”
    I looked at Cindy in the rear view mirror. “You took that too?”
    “It was one of my electives,” Cindy said. “Didn’t you switch out and get your Master’s degree in History?”
    “Yes. I thought it would be more useful than it’s turned out to be. At least it’s still useful as hypothetical toilet paper.”
    Diabloman ignored Cindy’s digression. “In order to maintain cooperation from authorities, you must spread around the wealth. I haven’t even mentioned the equipment costs. Freeze rays and giant robot labs do not pay for themselves.”
    “Well that, at least, makes sense,” I said,