His eyes glowing, he stands in the doorway. Master Mischief’s mechanical armor clanks as he steps into the room. The faded “M M” logo is blistered in purple paint on his chest.
Jess’ brain stutters. Has he figured out her parents’ secret identity? Is this is a kidnapping? A ruse to draw her parents out? She steps back and grabs for the pepper spray in her backpack, but that’ll be little help. Mischief is blocking the only exit.
He’s not an A-class villain, but Jess has never met any villain in the flesh. Despite all the funny T-shirts and silly videos of Mischief, and despite Jess’ arguments that some of what he does isn’t villainous at all, it’s hard to shake off years and years of seeing villains do terrible and destructive things in the news.
And now a villain stands in front of her; his electronic suit crackles with power.
Mischief can manipulate tech, but what is he’s doing here, in the heart of Monroe Industries? He’s certainly in his element. Anything electronic that isn’t too complicated, he can manipulate and control for a limited time. Jess has seen him direct cars to rebel against their owners and reprogram traffic lights and signs and computers.
Jess swallows and stands her ground. He’s silly. He mostly does harmless pranks. He’s ridiculous, not scary.
But it’s one thing to casually joke about villains and another to see one in person.
“I know we were deliberately vague in the job listing and interview, but I hope you understand why we needed the utmost discretion,” Mischief says. The voice is a little different than what she remembers, but that could be her imagination. It’s more electronic—is that a thing?
“Master Mischief?” Jess asks.
Mischief tilts his head; he almost fills the doorframe. But Mischief is quite a few inches shorter than Mistress Mischief, and the difference is always exaggerated in the comics.
He looks taller than Jess, and the suit—she can see black fabric at the knees under the metal armor, as if it doesn’t quite fit. And the logo is old, too; this version of the suit hasn’t been seen for at least a year. “What’s going on here?” Jess asks. “Why do you have Master Mischief’s mecha-suit?”
“Ah, I see you figured that out. I’m M, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
“Who are you?” Jess demands. “Do you actually work for Monroe Industries?”
“I’m not Master Mischief, that’s for sure. But yes, he works for Monroe Industries, and I do too. I was his assistant—am his assistant. He’s busy at the moment, and I’m running his lab in the interim.” M folds his arms and tilts his head and lights flicker without a discernible pattern on his helmet’s front panel. “You can laugh now. Villains need jobs too.”
Jess doesn’t laugh. It makes sense, actually. Mischief’s power of technological manipulation would be incredibly handy here; if his meta-powers weren’t low-level he’d be a formidable and almost unstoppable villain. As it is, he can’t use his powers very long before he has to recharge, just like her parents. “If you’re his assistant, why don’t you have your own suit? What do you do exactly? And is this internship with Monroe Industries or with you and Master Mischief?”
M shakes his head, and makes a noise that almost sounds like a laugh before it is garbled into electronic static.
“I’m wearing an old prototype of his suit because we’ve been incredibly busy working on other projects. New mecha-suits aren’t a priority right now. And yes, you will be working for Monroe Industries, in a subsidiary with special interests. If that’s something you’re still interested in?” M asks.
“This isn’t a kidnapping, is it?”
The panel on M’s helmet blinks various shades of orange, and he throws up his hands. “No, no, absolutely not,” M says. “We wouldn’t kidnap you, do you—do you want to leave?”
“Why are you here? What’s going on?”
“Why would we kidnap you? Monroe Industries isn’t about hurting anyone. Neither is Master Mischief. We just like to cause a little mayhem, rob the rich, and generally mess with Shockwave and Smasher.”
“Yeah, that much is true,” Jess says. She knows the title “villain” is a slightly inaccurate moniker for someone who is just a glorified criminal in a mechanical suit, who for the most part just keeps her parents and their superpowers occupied. And, just as her parents, as C-class heroes, are only in the Associated League of Heroes but not in the Heroes’ League of Heroes, the Mischiefs, as class C villains, are not in the United Villains Guild.
“You’re here because you applied for the job. And I—I think I could trust you, you know. We just need a lot of help in this—secret experimental department.”
M stands still, the lights on his face panel blinking at her. The rapid pattern almost looks… hopeful.
Jess steps forward. Her shoulders relax and her heart rate slows to normal as she unclenches her fists. She hadn’t realized she’d been in a “ready” position to fight, even though her skills are poor and unpracticed. Li Hua had tried to train her in the Nán quán style she’d learned as a child from her own mother, but nothing beyond the basics stuck with Jess.
Her initial fear quickly gives way to curiosity; the so-called rivalry has always been a source of entertainment for Jess, and, she’s sure, for many citizens of Andover.
With M standing there in front of her, Jess finds his suit garish, but not frightening. M is standing, shoulders hunched slightly, looking to Jess for a response—it seems as if he’s nervous.
Working for Master Mischief? This would be an act of sheer rebellion. Her parents would be livid if they ever found out.
And it would be hilarious.
And so much more interesting than working at the sandwich shop.
“I’m in,” Jess says.
M’s suit makes a gleeful whirring noise.
The first afternoon is spent working out a schedule with M. Jess plans to work three days a week after school for two hours, and then five hours on Saturday. She doesn’t have any clubs or sports to interfere with that schedule and finds herself looking forward to work.
On paper, Jess doesn’t seem to be the brightest of students, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t intelligent. She just gets nervous when taking tests, what with all those bubbles and the whole thing being timed, and she’s left-handed, so essay questions make her smudge graphite all over her fingers.
Unfortunately, Andover Heights High School is all about standardized tests: pass this test to get into this class; take all the approved tracks for your career of interest; finish all these prerequisites to apply to this college. The Collective provides many career options; it’s just that she wants to be a hero. A proper one, like Captain Orion.
So maybe Jess can’t get into the training program because she has no superpowers. She just needs a different goal. But she’s working with Master Mischief’s company now, and she can learn more about their tech and have access to their resources. If she’s good at her job, she can get into a great college, and maybe she can be CEO of a company like Monroe Industries one day. Or have a job here, one that doesn’t have to do with robots.
Jess knows she’s good at learning. When she finds something interesting, she throws herself wholeheartedly into it. She’s really good at research papers.
It’s going to be great.
Afterward, Jess takes the bus home. Out the window the streetlights flicker. Excitement flutters in her heart.
A cold plate of spaghetti waits for her when she gets home. She can hear her mom in her office, writing away and cursing loudly at her characters, and from upstairs come the noises of Brendan’s video games, or experiments. She can never tell. “How was your first day at your job, Mei-Mei?” Li Hua asks as she passes by the office door.
“Great. I worked out a schedule so I’ll be there after school and Saturdays. Where’s Dad?”
“Still patrolling downtown.” Li Hua sighs. She yawns and stretches, and then puts the notes on her desk aside.
“How’s your new novel coming along?” Her mother has been trying to break out of writing the backstory for the Smasher and Shockwave comics and to tell her own stories for a while. She’s extremely interested in detective noir fiction, set in Old America.
“It’s going pretty well. I just added a character whose husband lost his job.”
Jess laughs. “You tell Dad that?”
“Maybe I will. I’m hoping he’ll throw his focus onto something else. Actually focus on real estate, I don’t know.”
Jess can’t help a grin that spreads from ear to ear. “I don’t think Master Mischief or Mistress Mischief is really gone. Who knows? Maybe they’re taking a break. Building up to something big. Biding their time. They’re still around.”