You get to see my first thoughts about the brain-in-a-jar, a character type that I don’t think I ever considered before M&M, and which are repeated in the development of Paul in the Craigslist stories.
The No-Brainer
The hostages had been lying on the floor for about twenty minutes when one of the uniformed flunkies said they could sit instead, against the wall. Jedediah Cabot didn't recognize the green and gray uniforms, but he assumed they belonged to the brain in a jar.
"But no talking!" barked the flunky.
"Well, it's not every day you see a brain in a jar," protested Cabot mildly. Beside him, Hutton nodded and Toomey grunted. Other hostages shushed him.
"They may bask in my magnificence," said the brain. "For I am...the Macabre Master Mind." The jar flew closer to the wall of the room so everyone could get a closer look. Its voice coming out of the life support module was slightly tinny.
"Lovely parietal region," said Cabot, naming the only part of the brain he could remember. "Good looking sulci."
"You know brains." It sounded surprised.
"A little," said Cabot.
"You may stand," said the brain, and flew away to tell his men something.
"How do you know so much about brains?" asked Lamb Hutton from the floor.
"I watched my family be vivisected," Cabot muttered to her.
The brain flew back. From the new angle, Cabot could see the entire brain in a jar. The tank supporting the brain was marvelously compact: the entire life support was hidden in the foot or so beneath the brain that also held the rockets or antigravity or whatever let something as unaerodynamic as that fly. The spinal cord was invisible—either it was coiled under the brain or it wasn't there. "I won't always look like this," the brain informed him.
"When the rest of us are gray-haired, you'll still be hanging in there and you'll look like you do now."
"Ah, but I'll have a body then. Psionic powers and super powers in one package. No need to use the machines: I'll be able to feel the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, the ground beneath my feet. Or the air beneath my feet; if I can fly, so much the better. And women. I'll have women."
"You have anyone in mind?"
"Bodies or women?”
”Bodies. I don’t want to hear salacious details.”
A few. I've set up diversions around the city to keep the others busy. I will be the new Centurion."
"You do know the Centurion is dead?"
"Oh." A beam of golden light lanced from the container to Cabot. "You're telling the truth. Dr. Tomorrow, then."
"Missing, presumed dead."
"The Raven?"
"You want to be a woman?"
The brain moved back a foot. "The Raven is a woman?"
"The new one is."
"I spent too long in the secret Antarctic redoubt."
"You did," agreed Cabot.
"I must go to the loo," said Toomey in his thick Irish brogue.
“Just a second,” the brain said. “Superhero.”
A scarlet-clad gadgeteer had just appeared through the ceiling, lightning already dancing at the muzzle of the gun he held; two agents caught him in shimmering beams and held him immobile.
"Drop ceiling, air vent 12," said the brain, "that's how he got through."
The gadgeteer stood motionless. "He has no powers," said the brain. "Put him in the corner. Let's wait for the next one. Where's the one who needed the bathroom?"
"Jayz," said Toomey. "I don't have to go now."
"Take him anyway. Two guards, bathroom breaks one at a time."
One of the uniformed agents yawned. "All right. Me and—um, Carlisle, we'll take you. Come along, dwarf."
"I'm not a dwarf," said Toomey as he got up.
"Okay, midget," said another agent.
"Nor a midget," said Toomey.
"Agh, you reek of wine. Have you already been drinking? What'd you come here for? A handout?"
"To open an account, you buffoon. I don't think I will, now." Toomey disappeared around a corner with the men.
* * *
In the bathroom, Toomey shut the door. "I needs privacy," he said. What he needed was an idea. He could probably take one of them in a fight, maybe two, but a dozen was too many. The ceiling had access tubes built in, but he couldn't reach the ceiling. The corner of the bathroom had a tree in a planter, and he had one thought: Faerie gold.
But he'd like to do something immediate. Without wine near him, he couldn't travel to the office or even a nearby restaurant. His wine bottle, alas, was empty; he had drunk it dry while waiting. And changing water to wine was one of the seven bad miracles for members of Faerie, which he knew, but surely in this case...
He filled the bottle with water from the tap. Holding the bottle gently, gingerly, he felt the water inside it and the memory of the wine that had been in there. It had been an excellent oaked Chardonnay.
And it was again.
Delighted, he took a taste, just to be sure it was wine and not water. It was, in fact, an excellent oaked Chardonnay, and Toomey had a bit more. Then he had a bit after that, and he was just refilling the bottle with water when the guards broke into the washroom and escorted him out.
* * *
"He's trouble," observed the brain.
"Yup," said Cabot. "You couldn't smell him?"
"Cabot, I could fly or I could smell. The life support module is not that big. What happened to the male Raven?"
"Retired. By the way, we already have a villain named Mastermind."
"Soon there will be only one, and the world will tremble at my feet. When I have feet. My father named me Master Mind. I'll keep the name."
"He didn't know about the other one?"
"I'm sure he wanted me to destroy the other. My father knew everything!
"I'll tell you something I don't know. How does a guy who never takes off his armour get a girl?" Cabot pulled a chair over and sat on it backwards, the back facing towards the brain.
"My mother was Erzebet Skorzeny."
"Let me see... Glamour Queen?"
"Right. In the eighties. You've studied your superheroes."
"When I was moving to Freedom City, yes. Las Vegas only had the High Rollers and Diva. And Erzebet Skorzeny had you." Probably for money, Cabot thought. If what I've heard is true.
"Yes. She gave up superheroing because of the Moore Act."
"Uh-huh," said Cabot. "And you're a psionic, like she was."
"Actually, I was without mother's powers."
"That must have been disappointed your father."
"He didn't know. He and mother had a falling out." The brain rotated once. "Mother wasn't the easiest person to get along with. She knew when I was lying, for instance, and she punished me by giving me these illusions... She often said that the only reason she got into superheroing was the money."
"I've heard that." I wouldn't think of it as a big moneymaker, but money was Glamour Girl’s thing.
"When the Moore Act came along, all of mother's funds dried up. Pardon me; there's another superhero nearby." The brain moved to the center of the room.
An armored figure burst through one window, shedding glass shards for yards. Two of the flunkies fell down in pain. Its blue and gold metal gleaming, the armored figure lifted one hand but then froze, caught in the two beams. "Powered armor. Put him with the Scarlet Paladin or whatever his name was. Come, Jedediah." Cabot, nervously looking at the other hostages, went over to the brain.
"He's, uh, not handsome enough inside the armor?"
"Consider—his powers come from his armor and his mind. And his mind will be gone like guacamole dip if I use him."
"Right."
"You doubt my powers," the brain said. "I'll fight the next one."
"It's okay; let your boys handle him."
"I can do it."
"I never said you couldn't. Letting your minions do it, that's the smart way. The safe way." The brain clicked once at his emphasis on safe. "Other kids laugh at you because you were just a brain in a jar?"
"I was just a normal boy. They didn't know. I tried to tell them who my parents were, who my father was, but Mother made sure that they thought I was lying. I read a lot. I wasn't as handsome as father."
"I thought he was in armor."
"He walked like a handsome man."
Cabot hoped that Toomey had teleported, or made himself smaller, or something, but he came out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened. Oh, of course...he can only travel between wine cellars, and a bank won't have one.
Toomey returned, looking happy and sheepish and still reeking of wine.
Lamb Hutton put up her hand. "If you don't need them for a minute, I really need to go to the bathroom."
"You may go."
Cabot was relieved that the brain hadn't read anyone else's mind: Toomey believed himself a member of Faery, and Hutton thought herself a witch; and both would be immobilized once the brain knew that. "There will be champagne when I get a body, Jedediah," said the brain.
"To replace the one you lost."
"Some nights I still remember the accident: the sizzling flesh, the explosions..."
"Ewww." He stopped a moment. "The explosions?"
"On a rainy night, I had just gotten my license and I went off the road, into a ravine. The gas tank blew up."
Cabot thought, No, they don't. Gas tanks rarely blow up—they make cars so the gas tanks rarely explode.
"Father rescued me. He was too late for Mother, and my...my body. But I'll have a new one."
"And you got to know your father."
* * *
Lamb Hutton looked around. There was a bit of dirt in the ladies' washroom: a potted tree in the corner. So she threw it at the guard's faces...and then what?
People would die, that's what.
If she had a lot of dirt, she could build a wall around the hostages, save them, but she didn't have a lot of dirt. She knew there was dirt beneath the bank, but how to touch it?
She reached out to it...tried to make it move...because she knew the dirt was there. All it had to do was enter the bank....
She tried again, fatigue settling on her like a blanket.
Failure. She was exhausted, unable to help more. The underside of the bank was too strong--maybe just the city, maybe against burrowing villains. She used the toilet, then washed her hands, and opened the door.
* * *
"Yes," said the brain confidently. "My father was a great man. He showed me his lab. Other than that, though, I didn't get to talk to many people in the redoubt, when I was recovering."
"There were underlings, I'm sure."
The brain floated farther away from people; Cabot followed it. "Underlings hardly count, they're too busy licking your boots--metaphorically speaking. And they're all clones anyway."
That seems…clone-ist.
There seemed to be no volume control on the speaker. The costumed flunkies looked at each other. Looking at them, Cabot did notice a sameness in their height and build. "Of course," he said.
"Anyway. Being without a body, I developed these powers. Great powers. Here's a superhero now; you'll see."
There was a blur, and the flunkies were disarmed, with all their guns in a huge pile near the hostages.
"Stop," said the brain. "STOP!" A violet beam from the brain hit the blur. The blur stopped, revealing a young black man in blue and white tights, goggles, and a helmet.
"Behold my power, Jedediah. You! Re-arm my men."
The man disappeared, and then the flunkies had guns again, and the man was standing before the brain. "You see?" the brain said.
Cabot bit his lower lip. "So you have your body."
"And my powers won't leave me when I have a body back. But he's not suitable."
"Why not? He has super powers."
"Well... He's black."
"Yeah?" Cabot's best friend back in Las Vegas had been black. If he survived this, he should give Isaiah a call.
Hutton was led back. She gave Cabot a tiny shake of her head.
"Well..." said the brain. "Black men in America have a rough time of it. I need a white man." Green light lanced from the brain to the man and he crumpled to the floor.
"You wouldn't happen to have been white before?" It wasn’t much of a guess; Glamour Queen was white.
"That has nothing to do with it."
"Riiiiight," said Cabot.
"I'll take the next one."
"The next handsome young white male with super powers."
"That goes without saying."
"You better hope the Next Gen shows up. No, wait, they're half women and blacks."
"I can replace you."
"You'd better. I would think that you, a person without skin, know there's more to people than skin colour."
"I'm not saying he's inferior..."
"No, but you don't want to be him."
"Because of..."
"Because he's black," said Cabot. He hoped the brain couldn't hear his heart hammering in his chest.
"No."
"Because your father lied to you."
"No— What about my father?"
"Look," said Cabot, "your mother had a force field, she could fly...what makes you think a car crash is going to take her out?"
"It was an accident."
"Gas tanks don't normally blow up. In fact, they make cars so gas tanks don't blow up, and yours did. Accident? My butt."
"She died. A piece of—"
"Did you see the body?" He was taking a chance, and he knew it. "Because if you didn't see the body, it didn't happen that way."
"Quiet!" said the brain, forgetting to use its powers.
"He can make clones!" shouted Cabot. "Why couldn't he clone you a new body? Because you hadn't developed powers yet, that's why!"
"Quiet!" said the brain, and this time it did remember its powers, because a violet light caught Cabot, and Cabot felt an overwhelming urge to be silent.
"I must..." the brain began. "I need... I need to talk to him."
It left the bank, and flew south. Bullets bounced harmlessly off its sides.
The flunkies looked at each other and fled.
Cabot was quiet, as he would be for days.
Hutton looked at Cabot and Toomey. "Too bad they already have any gold."
"No," said Toomey happily. "They have only fairy gold: the appearance of gold that will change back to being leaves tomorrow. I changed it while I was in the washroom."
Cabot managed to smile.
Toomey
| Toomey | |||||||
| PRW | CRD | STR | INT | AWR | WIL | Stamina | Determination |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 4 | 7 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 13 | 2 | |
| Powers | Specialties | ||||||
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| Qualities | |||||||
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The heroes who appear briefly are from the archetypes that were in Mutants & Masterminds second edition.
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