Star Harbor Nights

"No need to worry them yet," Thoth said. "They won. Naturally, they're going to be inclined to celebrate... no sense bringing them down."

"But plenty of sense bringing you down?"

"Somebody has to be on the alert," he said. "They did an impressive job of rounding up the underlings, but it's still worth noting that the masterminds behind the plot are both unaccounted for."

The entire room was suffused with a purple-bluish glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, as if everything were coated with luminous paint. That aside, it seemed a quite ordinary break room, with a few kitchen cabinets, a refrigerator, a sink, a coffee maker, and a microwave. At the round table--also a luminous purple-blue--sat two women, one wearing a spider-decorated jacket with an upturned collar and a cowl mask with eight bulging eyes, and the other wearing a rather conservative pantsuit. The spider-masked one was exercising her hands in turn by squeezing a pair of spring-loaded levers. The other, one Andrea Markham, sat quietly for some time, not touching the mug of coffee in front of her.

"So, do you shoot webs, or what?" Andrea asked her finally.

The other woman paused in her exercise and glared at her across the table, then shook her head.

"Why are you called 'Spinnerette', then?"

"Because she's an appendage on my ass," Webmistress said from the doorway. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Absolutely unavoidable. Welcome to the Web of Shadows, Ms. Markham... did you have any trouble finding the place?"

"Considering I was blindfolded in the back of a van, surprisingly little," Andrea said pleasantly.

"I'm sure you understand the necessity."

"Yes, of course," Andrea said quickly. "I only..."

"Wonderful," Webmistress said. "Now, about Spinnerette... the name was originally meant to reflect the fact that, by going afield where I had to remain safely hidden behind the scenes, she could extend my metaphorical 'web' for me. That was the idea, anyway. My goal was to find a woman skillful enough to be useful but loyal enough to be trustworthy. I must confess that in this respect I have failed completely... it turns out that she's ambitious enough to covet my position but incompetent enough to be safe."

"Are you sure it's really, uh, wise to talk about your lieutenant that way?" Andrea asked. "In front of her?"

"Why, what's she going to do?" Webmistress asked. She turned and leaned her face in towards Spinnerette, saying in a mocking, sing-song voice that was miles away from her usual aristocratic tone, "What are you going to do, Janie? Cry? Throw a tantrum? Put another bomb underneath my throne?" Spinnerette looked livid. A look briefly crossed Webmistress's face, a look which suggested she'd suddenly realized her mask of dignified decorum had slipped in front of a visitor. She straightened up. Her features quickly resolved themselves into a pose of regal boredom. "Or will you just continue to find new and ever-more-interesting ways in which to disappoint me?"

Spinnerette said nothing, but continued squeezing the hand exerciser.

"You see?" Webmistress said lightly to Andrea. "She won't say anything. I've had her mouth glued shut for a week. Though it would scarcely matter if I hadn't. I suspect she enjoys the abuse, or else she would long since have ceased to provoke it. If you do end up working for me, you will have to watch your back... I suspect she'll go through a certain period of rather adolescent jealousy before she adjusts to your presence. Come, Ms. Markham."

Webmistress turned on her heel, her web-like cape swishing behind her as she strode out of the room. Andrea banged her knee on the table in her hurry to rise and follow her.

"I do not lightly employ another woman," Webmistress said. "My operation is arranged along the line of a queen and commoners, it is predicated upon the natural superiority of women over men. My belief in the early days was that having more than one woman would confuse things, lead to power struggles, divided loyalties among my subjects... there is a question on your face, Ms. Markham."

"Oh!" Andrea said. She'd been trying to keep a neutral facade, and was surprised that Webmistress had seen her doubtful look out of the corner of her eye as they hurried down the corridor side by side. Andrea herself was only able to catch tantalizing glimpses down side corridors as they rushed past.

"It's just... I knew you used the whole dominatrix thing to keep your minions in line. I wasn't sure if you... you know, believed it."

"Dominatrix?" Webmistress said. She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Dominatrixes and most so-called female supremacists are proceeding from a false premise. I made a study of the literature put out by such persons in a search for a kindred spirit... I was disappointed. Typically, they start out by asserting the supremacy of women over men, the need for men to be dominated and subjugated, and the ability of women to do so... and then completely go off track with talk about emasculation and feminization of men. Do you see the problem there?"

"I..." Andrea began uncertainly, but Webmistress pressed on without waiting for a response.

"They advocate controlling men by making them more like women! By insulting and diminishing their manhood!" she said. "Tell me, if you can, how it makes any kind of sense to say that a man is naturally inferior to a woman, and then to say the only way a woman can control a man is if he's not a man? That's why I do nothing to lessen my henchmen's masculinity... I do everything I can to bolster it. They're given a special course of drugs... synthetic steroids, hormones, potency enhancers. They're required to work out regularly. In addition to combat training and whatever special skills are required, they're also taught manners and chivalry. My men are mighty hunters and warriors, not flouncing girly boys who can only achieve an erection if they're tied up beneath me. I honestly don't have that much energy."

"Do you require your female underlings to subscribe to this view?"

"I once thought to coach Spinnerette in it, but by the time I realized that was hopeless I was already thoroughly dependent on her," Webmistress said. "So, I'll say that I'd merely require you not to openly contradict my philosophy, particularly in front of 'the boys'." She said the last as they passed through an archway into the vast circular throne room. An honor guard of Webmistress's "boys" were arrayed at regular intervals all along the walls. Andrea couldn't help noticing, after the talk about their chemical conditioning, how big and muscular each and every one of them was... nor how their other "masculine" attributes stacked up, given that each of them wore nothing above their boots save for skintight black shorts.

Webmistress gave her a gesture which she interpreted to mean "stay here" and continued on towards her throne. One of the men actually hurried forward to push the giant semicircular computer console out of her way so that she didn't have to go around it. Andrea wondered if the room had been designed specifically to necessitate that action... after all, it probably would have been easier to lay it out so she had a clear path rather than making the control panel movable.

"So, tell me, Andrea," Webmistress said as she settled herself on her throne. "Why did you seek me out?"

"Well," Andrea said, feeling a little unsettled. The fact that Webmistress herself had escorted her to this interview, and they had walked side by side and spoken as equals, had been unexpected and put her at her ease. Now that she was standing back by the entrance to the room, forced to look up at her prospective employer who sat serenely enthroned... and with the computer console between them looking for all the world like a wall or railing to keep out the riff-raff... she knew that she would be far from this woman's equal. "Nearly everybody else involved in the 'toymaker' fiasco ended up in jail, the hospital, or both. Geppetto himself escaped justice... but he blew so much of his resources on this one plot which went nowhere, and alerted any enemies he had that he's alive. I found myself thinking about the wastefulness of it all, after everything went down... I remembered how he spent thirty-five million dollars on getting the Pantheon out of the country for a scheme that failed. And then I thought... that means somebody made thirty-five million dollars off his stupid scheme. Why wasn't I working for them?"

"A woman after my own heart," Webmistress said. "Have you ever heard how I got my start in this business?"

"No... well, I've heard a lot of different stories," Andrea said. "I have no idea how true any of them are."

"Well, the real story doesn't get told very often," Webmistress said. She held out her hand. A glass of wine was in it so fast it seemed to have appeared there, but Andrea just barely saw one Webmistress's attendants scurrying away. "It's not as exciting as people might like. You see, I was... involved with somebody who got a hold of a suit of personal powered armor. He sort of lucked into it... never mind how... but he saw it as his ticket to the big time. He was going to use it to rob a bank. The night before he was going to pull the job, he went to a bar for a little early celebration... and got himself killed in a drunken brawl."

"So you did the bank job yourself?"

"You're joking, right?" Webmistress said. "When's the last time you heard of a bank robber making off with more than a few thousand dollars? I sold it... for twelve million. A fraction of what it was worth, even in components, but without any contacts I considered myself lucky to get it. The man who bought it? Robbed a bank. He got away with seven thousand dollars and change... but he didn't get far. Did you know the average costumed criminal gets arrested after only three point seven jobs?"

"Why do people keep doing it?" Markham asked.

"Why do people keep playing the lottery?" Webmistress said with a diffident shrug. "By and large, people are stupid... but we shouldn't complain. The stupidity of most of the world is what lets the rest of us prosper. You've seen a bit of my operation... parts of my underground lair. How much do you suppose a set-up like this must have cost?"

"I don't know," Andrea said. She had the feeling she was expected to say "millions" so that her hostess could flash a gloating smile and tell her it was actually "billions." She'd never gone wrong telling powerful people what they wanted to hear. "Millions of dollars, I suppose."

"Actually, the whole thing amounts to two point seven trillion dollars," Webmistress said. "Not all in one chunk, of course, and I certainly didn't pay all of that... bits and pieces were appropriated from different governments' top secret projects or acquired through other means... but the point remains that this lair alone represents a considerable investment of my time and resources. Now, can you tell me under what circumstances it would make sense to risk this particular piece of real estate and its unique furnishings?"

"I... I can't think of one, actually," Andrea admitted.

"Neither can I," Webmistress said. "Which is exactly why I've never kidnapped the president's daughter, built a doomsday device, or done anything else that would focus the resources of one or all of the world's nations on hunting me down. I'm one of the most successful criminals on the planet, but I've never been higher than number twenty-three on anybody's wanted list, and then only briefly. So many self-proclaimed 'evil masterminds' would see being less than number one as an insult and would do everything in their power to attract more attention in order to raise their 'rep'... Baron Black once bragged to me that Interpol has a whole bureau devoted to tracking his whereabouts. I can't imagine running my empire with that many agents breathing down my neck, can you?"

"But law enforcement and the hero community know about you... at least that you exist," Andrea said. "Surely they've got some interest in shutting you down."

"Of course if you ask them they'll tell you they'd love to see me shut down, but somehow, I never manage to become a priority," Webmistress said. "Part of it is that I make a point never to wave a flag in front of their faces, and part of it is that I stay out of the sorts of crimes that really stir up the hornet's nest. Anybody who wanted to launch a crusade against me would have a hard time getting the public support needed for any real official backing. Those few who are aware of the extent to which I make supercrime in this world possible are hamstrung by the extent that to which they'd have to ignore other, more pressing responsibilities to hunt after me."

"But you deal in assassination, slavery, and drugs," Andrea said. "I don't mean to argue, but I don't see what bigger crimes there could be in the public mind."

"Assassination: despised politicians, criminals, personal vendettas, and sports figures. Never reform-minded citizens, star witnesses, or beloved public figures. Human trafficking: only in adult men, never women or children. Drugs: synthetics only, not cocaine and certainly no opium derivatives. In fact, I make it a rule never to produce the same drug more than three years running. I find that you can only market a drug for so long before somebody takes it personally and devotes their life to shutting down its suppliers and getting it off the streets. If I just phase it out anyway, they feel like they've won and don't bother looking any further."

"I see," Andrea said. "I'm sorry for the questions... after Geppetto, I just want to know what I'm getting myself into."

"Quite rightly so. I expect unquestioning loyalty from my men. My women, I expect to be intelligent and alert to possible problems. Well, we've covered a lot about me... so let's hear about you," Webmistress said. "I found your little resume most informative, and of course, your references are excellent. I very much like your style... always in the background, rarely connected to the crime. But there are other qualified applicants in the world. Tell me, what do you bring to the table?"

"How about an offering?" Andrea said with a smile. "I had a wooden crate with me when your men picked me up."

Webmistress gestured off to one side and another of her men came scurrying forward with a square wooden box, about one foot across each side, which he placed on a flat part of her console before bowing deferentially and backing away.

"If I may approach?" Andrea asked respectfully. Webmistress nodded.

"Though I got a hefty advance from Geppetto, I never received the balance of my fees... but when things started going pear-shaped, I looked around for anything of value before I left. I consider this my... severance package," Andrea said as she moved forward. She slid the cover off the box to gradually reveal the contents. Though Webmistress normally detested dramatic gestures done by others, she found herself leaning forward to catch a glimpse. She gasped. Andrea smiled.

"Is that what I think it is?" Webmistress asked.

"Yep," Andrea said. "The next best thing to saving Hitler's brain."

Webmistress pressed a jeweled stud on the arm of her throne.

"Spinnerette," she said sharply, "get Dr. Clevenger on the phone. Tell her... tell her I've got something for her."