FOREWORD

CHRIS CLAREMONT

 

As far back as the Iliad and the Odyssey, as far back as Shakespeare and Marlowe, right on up through the present day, the best heroes are defined by their villainous adversaries. The admiration we feel for them is more often than not defined by the quality of the threats they confront and ultimately overcome.

Think of the stories we tell, in our imaginations, on the playground—who’s more cool: Ming the Merciless or Flash Gordon? Darth Vader or the whole of the Rebel Alliance? Khan or Kirk? Magneto or Professor Xavier? Who among these characters do we remember most when the story’s told? Who’s made the strongest impact? Whom do we secretly admire, even as he (or she) terrifies us? Who seems to have the most fun?

In most adventure fiction, be it drama or melodrama, the hero is defined very much by his (or her) adversary. The hero, sadly, is the more passive figure, forever waiting for the villain to set the plot in motion, to then take whatever actions are necessary to forestall it. The better the villain, the more impressive their assets—whether personal, being mentally and physically superior to the hero, or collective, in that he commands an impressive force of underlings—the more heroic his adversary becomes in taking a stand against what appear to be overwhelming odds. And, of course, in emerging triumphant.

Things get even better in stories like those in this anthology, where the villain strides masterfully into the category of Mad Scientist. You can find yourself confronting Dr. Moreau on his island where he’s busy reducing living people to the size of children’s toys. Or twisting the concept of villainy against itself, as was done in X2: X-Men United, wherein the mutant heroes allied themselves with Magneto against an even greater threat, that of William Stryker. At story’s end, one adversary is slain by the other, who then betrays his allies, leaving them all to die. Two mad scientists, two heinous villains, one richly dramatic climax. What more could audiences ask for?

For the creator—the writer—the wonderful thing about such characters is that they offer the opportunity to dance across both sides of society’s line between “good” and “evil.” We craft the world as we want it to be, invariably a nice place full of nice people, and then introduce a tangible threat. The beauty of the mix, of course, is that we have the opportunity to play with these tropes—for example, the villain might seriously tempt the hero to switch sides, or to use a more classic description, seduce him to the dark side of the Force. There’s a seminal power in that temptation—the hero might fall and the villain triumph. By the same token, the hero can reach out and tempt the villain to renounce his evil ways and thereby redeem himself, perhaps by taking a stand against a greater evil. Or simply walking away from the life he’d lived until now, so as to start anew. That aspect of this primal conflict became the linchpin of the character of Magneto in the X-Men, giving him a power and depth rarely seen in comics and film as he was brought to tangible life by Ian McKellen.

Either way presents the audience a story rich with dramatic tension, in that you don’t know until it actually happens how the tale’s going to end. It keeps us reading (or watching) and leaves us eagerly awaiting the opportunity to come back for more.

But of course, the conflict—between good and evil, if you will—is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Right beneath it is the equally primal question: Why? What takes a soul and casts him, or her, one way and not the other? Why is one person compelled to be a villain and another the hero? We see Macbeth as a noble man in the opening scenes of Shakespeare’s play, an admirable warrior, yet by Act Five he has become a veritable monster. True, he’s won a kingdom as the three witches foretold but in the process he’s betrayed king and colleagues, slaughtered friends, betrayed all he believed in, and cast his soul to ruin. And throughout, we can’t take our eyes off him. Not only that, he gets the best lines.

So here we have a clutch of stories presenting a view of life from the perspective of the mad scientist or evil genius. Some are conquerors, others criminals; some look like normal folks, others wear costumes. All are delightfully fascinating. They’re the dark side of our soul brought to life and cast into a realm where the inevitability of their defeat is not a given. As the saying goes, it’s fun to admire forbidden fruit but you should never forget that there’s a reason it’s forbidden in the first place. And it’s not because someone’s being selfish.

We let ourselves admire these mad scientists because we know that in the end they’ll lose. Trouble is, what we think we know isn’t always the case. They’re scientists, which means they’re always looking for answers. They’re proud, resourceful characters, determined to brave new pathways and even more dangerously to try the wholly unexpected. Does that make them evil? Or just one step ahead of the rest of us?

So enjoy these stories, your brief wander through worlds where the rules may not be as predictable and dependable as you might prefer. Just be careful. The tiger is a lovely animal but shrouded in that physical beauty are the muscles and fangs of a predator. To its eyes, you may well be prey.

Admire all you wish—but take care not to become the next main course for dinner.