“Why so grum, crumbum?” Alexa smiled, readjusting her oversized helmet.

“Congrats, you’ve successfully bullied me into having a dumb nickname,” Martin grumbled, emerging out of the bus and taking the first step towards his new school. “What’s your next move, genius?”

“Thank you for acknowledging my brilliance,” the supervillain teen nodded. “What grade is this supposed to be anyway?”

“Eight.” Martin said. “How do you not know this?”

“Like Sherlock Homes once said - It is of the highest importance, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones.” Alexa explained “I do not clutter my brain with unnecessary things. That’s what minions are for. See, you’re my Dr. Watson.”

“My purpose is to be your Watson?” Martin sighed.

“Indeed. You’re the intellectually inferior patsy that serves as a kindly foil to my cunning ingenuity.”

“Hey! I’m smart. I won several spelling bees and mathematics competitions!" Martin tried to defend himself.

“I very much doubt that your current bee mongering and number counting are of any value to the brutal realities of the universe. Do you know how to make homemade explosive devices from household chemicals? Do you know how to fix a dislocated joint? Do you know how to jumpstart a truck? Do you know how to fire a…”

“Why would I need to know these things?” Martin interrupted. “I’m only 14 and they don’t teach that sorta things in school.”

“Then I really don’t see much educational value in attending this school,” she said with a face of mild disappointment.

“Wait… Have you not gone to school before?” Martin asked. “Is that legal?”

“You’re really asking a supervillain’s daughter whether something they’ve done is legal?”

“Point taken.” Martin nodded.

"See. You're already fitting nicely into your Watson shoes."

“How did you even exist before I came into the picture?” He muttered, feeling somehow deeply bothered by the Watson label.

“Don’t think of yourself so special. I’ve had other minions before. It’s just that they’ve all… umm... been forcefully retired,” Alexa explained, making Martin frown. “Such are the hardships of being a supervillain. Surviving by the barest margins while minions tragically perish in battle for a greater cause.”

“How come you're so open about the supervillain biz anyway?” He pressed.

“Answer me this riddle, Mr. Mittens - who has better chances of winning a fist fight if both are of equal power parameters: a hero who is wearing 100 clear plastic bags on their face or a villain who doesn’t?"

“Um. I guess the one without the bags. Is that the answer you're expecting?” Martin looked at her.

“Laws are chains that bind people into limited options. True power lies in absolute freedom. I’m a descendant of a long line of supervillains, of truly free men like Spring-heeled Jack. Unlike you, Mittens - I wield the accumulated power of centuries of freedom. Deceptions such as secret identities are pointless because I’m not afraid of people bound by laws.”

“Hrm.” Martin made a noise of non-commitment, unconvinced by her argument.

“Take the bags off your face, Mittens! Become free.” She bopped him on the nose as they stepped into the stairwell leading into the building.

"How?" Martin asked, ignoring the boop.

“Say the instructors at this school are terribly lame and uncaring. What are you going to do, sit there like a patsy or walk out?”

“Skipping school is bad.” Martin answered. There would be no way in hell he would skip school! That was a dark path leading to supervillainy.

He stopped and pointed at the sky. Alexa’s eyes followed his motion towards the man-made stars overhead, the lights of space-station Titanomachy.

“Do you know what that is?” Martin asked. “The Superstate is the future, in which there is no world hunger, no poverty, no suffering. The tech provided by the SCA foundation is changing the world, improving countless lives, healing, protecting and saving people!”

“Why haven't they cured world hunger then?” Alexa scoffed. “All they’re doing up there is hoarding all the good tech, while the rest of us toil like peasants in the dirt down on the ground.”

“What? No! It’s villains like your father that prevent the Superstate from aiding humanity!” Martin declared. “How can you not understand that law and order is what keeps society moving forward!”

Something beeped on Alexa. She sighed, stopping and readjusting herself. For some reason, she spun her head back and forth as if to note something.

“Pff… society. One needs only to take a step forward enough and all of your society disappears, replaced by nightmarish horrors beyond human comprehension...” Alexa finally said darkly, flickering ever so slightly.

“What?” Martin stared at the villainess.

“What?” She blinked back at him. "Um. Sorry, was I saying something? I totally forgot."

“Nightmarish horrors? Hello?” Martin waved a hand, offering her to continue. He was hoping she would confess to her nightmarish crimes. His new pen was recording everything.

Alexa rubbed a scratched up bracelet made of black hexagons, microchips and duct tape on her wrist, thinking about something. Martin blinked. He could have sworn that this bracelet wasn’t there before. Maybe it was hidden under her sleeve or something.

“Nevermind that. You ain’t ready for the truth.” She said, booping him on the nose again, bouncing off on her jump shoes into the school building.

Martin, having been thoroughly bamboozled, walked into the school after Alexa.

. . .

“Good morning children!”

“Good morning, Miss Wickers!” The students responded back.

“We have two new students joining us today. Martin Kilborne from...”

“Kitten Mittens!” Alexa loudly said over the voice of the homeroom teacher, making everyone giggle. Martin tried to elbow her but ended up falling sideways, smacking into the floor as Alexa somehow smoothly took advantage of his motion to tip him over.

“Whoopsie. Didn’t mean to do that,” Alexa whispered to Martin. “My defence reflexes kicked in, sorry.”

Miss Wickers frowned at the interruption. “Martin Kilborne who moved to our town from upstate,” she repeated. “And Alexa Terranova who’s been priorly homeschooled.”

“Cassiopeia Terror Nova reporting for Earth-Defence Academy!” Alexa announced, stepping on Martin’s chest as he tried to get up. “And I prefer the term Death-schooled!”

The class broke out in uneven, stifled laughter.

Miss Wickers turned just in time to see Martin get back up with Alexa grinning widely, like an innocent angel.

"Hrm. It says here in your record that you're a brunette," Miss Wickers muttered. Martin glanced at the papers on the homeroom teacher's desk. There was indeed a picture of Alexa with dark brown hair there.

"Kids and their hair highlights," the teacher looked at the girl before her with a sigh.

"Wowza is that a genuine transparency-limited overhead projector? This antiquated tech leaves much to be desired," Alexa shamelessly judged the classroom equipment.

“Does your dad work in construction, Alexa? I understand that you’re undoubtedly wanting to show off your heritage, but please dress properly next time.” Miss Wickers commented on Alexa's outfit.

“My dad works in world domination! Also, you think there’s going to be a next time?” Alexa made a sour face. “Time loops suck ass. I’d rather not get stuck in one, again.”

“Stop being a disruption.” Martin hissed at her.

“Make me.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Right. Take a seat, please.” Miss Wickers said tentatively, ignoring Alexa’s proclamations, directing the pair towards two empty seats at the front.

“I’m ready to be educated, instructor-sama. Inject me with terrestrial knowledge brain-parasites!” Alexa saluted as Miss Wickers got back to the teachers desk.

“Ms. Terranova, please don’t speak without raising your hand first.” Miss Wickers pressed her authority.

“Acknowledged!” The teenage supervillain yelled, one hand raised in the air, the other still saluting the teacher.

“No. Raise your hand, then I will call your name, only then you can ask a question.” The teacher said. “Also, you don’t need to salute me.”

Alexa snapped her hand up, ending the salute.

“Yes, Terranova?”

“Procedure understood. When do I get my central-authority brain parasite?” She grinned.

“You do not get a brain parasite here, only the best public education courtesy of myself and other teachers at Saint Mary middle school.” Miss Wickers explained with a sigh.

“Get a load of this one. No brain parasite, she says!” Alexa turned to Martin.

“Please don’t speak to other students while class is on. You may socialize in between classes and also during lunch break.” Miss Wickers pointed out.

Alexa squinted at Miss Wickers.

"You don't need to wear your backpack now, sweetie." The homeroom teacher noticed that Alexa still had her pink backpack on.

"I always wear it." The girl said. "I'm not taking it off. My umm… uhh… asthma inhaler is inside. Could die of spontaneous suffocation at any moment, you know."

“Okay, fine.” The teacher ignored Alexa’s villainous ways, turning to the board. “Let’s start with some math problems.”

Martin knew that the girl was lying. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice that obviously made up statement. The teacher should have forced the dastardly villain to remove her bag and confiscated it, locked it up! Who knew what kind of other unwholesome weapons she held therein. The brain-freeze inducing raygun was probably just the tip of the iceberg.

He watched as Alexa grew more impatient with every minute, fingers rapidly tapping on the desk. He was waiting for her to snap and was rewarded with the sight of Alexa pulling out her hairdryer raygun from her backpack.

“Who does she think she is, bossing me around. I'm supposed to learn linear math now? Ppfff.” The girl muttered.

“Why do you call it a raygun anyway? It’s more of a freeze ray, if anything.” Martin commented in an attempt to prevent Alexa from giving the teacher an icy migraine.

Alexa turned towards him, as expected.

“It’s a raygun because I called it that.”

“Freezeee-gun.” Martin said.

“Are you criticizing my gun naming convention?”

“What if I am?” Martin smiled.

“Sounds like someone is asking for another death-raying on the noggin.” Alexa pointed the raygun at Martin.

“FREEZE-gunning.” He pressed on. Alexa pressed the trigger and Martin received a solid dose of brainfreeze, right before Miss Wickers yanked the raygun out of Alexa’s hands.

“Erk!” Alexa yelped.

“Please don’t play around during class. I’ll return your hair dryer at the end of the day.” Miss Wickers walked off with the raygun.

Alexa angrily glared at Martin. He smiled, rubbing his aching head, enjoying this small, teacher-assisted victory.

“You’re going to regret this mutiny, Mittens.” Alexa hissed bitterly.

“You’re going to get detention if you keep going.” Martin pointed out calmly.

"Big freaking deal. As if I would care about that." Alexa shot back.

"They'll report you to the… principal."

"Big whoop. I can always blow up his office and walk away, not looking at the explosion."

"How?"

"Probably with a series of complex plots, using social hacking." She smiled mischievously.

“If you do that, you’re going to juvie, cus blowing up offices is a serious crime, not to mention your sign stealing record!" Martin said.

Alexa's bracelet beeped and she suddenly grabbed Martin's hand. Martin looked at her in mild annoyance. What was she trying to accomplish by holding his hand like that? Where was she going with this? He felt his heartbeat intensifying. Was she socially hacking him?!

"Why are you holding my hand?" He finally asked.

"You'll see… in three, two, one." Alexa counted down.

The world suddenly grew very, very dark.

“Huh!?” Martin, asked. It was pitch black.

"Did you cut the power, just so you could mess with me?" He ground out. "Are you planning to escape from school while power is out?"

"Look outside, M." Alexa said, her voice vibrating ever so slightly with nervous tension.

Martin turned his head looking out the window, expecting to maybe see a cloud blocking out the sun. There was no sun at all there. The sky was pitch black, the ground gray and foggy. He turned his head back to the classroom, feeling unease. He shivered as he started to suddenly feel very cold as if the temperature had suddenly dropped 20 degrees.

“I wanted to be nice to you M, but you’ve left me no choice.” Alexa said. The classroom behind her was extremely dim. It was as if all lights and colors had been drained from the world.

Martin blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden, inexplicable lack of light.

“What… what did you do?” He stammered out, turning his head. The classroom was now empty - seemingly devoid of other students and Miss Wickers.

“What didn’t I do?” Alexa wiggled her eyebrows. Her eyes shined like pools of mercury as she smiled in the darkness.

The more his eyes got used to the murky twilight, the more he did not like what he saw. It was the same classroom, sure, but it looked wrong, unkempt, forsaken… abandoned.

He felt the surface of his desk in the darkness. It was scratched up, decayed, the wooden parts rotten and covered a deep layer of dust.

"Do you notice a distinctive lack of bacterium maybe?" Alexa commented. "No? Perhaps something bigger? What was it that lorax said? I speak for the…"

The trees! The trees outside were gone! Martin felt panic rising in his chest.

Alexa smiled, stood up and started to walk away.

“What the freaking hell?! Come back here! What have you done?!” Martin yelled. His foot stepped on something and that something cracked beneath his boots. His eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness. He bent down and saw a grinning skull and then an entire dusty skeleton covered in tattered clothing. It was dressed like Miss Wickers. Martin gasped in shock.

Alexa got to the board. “Class is in session!” She picked up a paper from a table and it immediately came apart under her touch, fluttering down as ashes and dust. "Let’s see… who’s in attendance today?”

Martin stood over the ancient corpse of Miss Wickers, heaving. A dull ache entered into his chest. His heart raced and he trembled, feeling colder and colder. He was experiencing something that he’d never had before - a panic attack. His breath came out as a small cloud, the moisture freezing in the chilly air.

“What is happening?!” He looked up at Alexa. “Where are we?”

The girl looked back at Martin, tapping her chin. “More like, WHEN are we.”

“Okay, fine! When are we?!” Martin squealed, feeling like his heart was about to pounce out of his chest. He saw skeletons of other students littering the classroom, white bones protruding out of decayed clothing. He saw dark ruins of the town of Saint Mary out of the broken windows.

“Ah yes. Martin… Kilborne, from upstate. Welcome to Saint Mary middle-school, class of 2424.” Alexa said.

“Alexa…” Martin whispered.

“You may speak only if you raise your hand, sweetie,” The villainous girl perfectly emulated Miss Wicker’s tone. She jumped onto the teacher's desk, which precariously groaned under her. She merrily swung her legs back and forth.

“Please… please… I don’t know what you did,” Martin choked, his eyes filling with tears.

“Please, I won’t…” Martin wasn’t sure what exactly he wasn’t going to do. The more he saw, the more terrified he became. This was a world devoid of life, of warmth, of people, of trees. He saw something move out of the corner of his eye in the distance. He turned his head. A tall, incredibly long, impossible thing moved in the fog, enormous limbs slowly traversing over the city. Lightning flashed in the sky, starkly highlighting a colossal, misshapen figure. The thing was framed by a gargantuan supercell storm spinning overhead and far behind it.

“Christ! ...What in God’s name is that?” He whispered, feeling overwhelmed with dread.

“Raise your hand, if you have a question.” Alexa said.

Martin raised his hand, shaking like a leaf in the wind. All resistance had been drained out of him. He’d never been so terrified in his entire life.

“What is that?” He repeated, pinned in place by the sight of the cyclopean aberration.

"That's a skinwalker. His name is Mr. Noodles. Any other questions?"

Martin tried to formulate another question and found himself unable to speak, staring at the humongous monstrocity in the fog. He flapped his mouth like a fish for a while, hyperventilating.

“Tick tock, Mr. Kilborne. Time waits for no man,” Alexa pointed to the broken clock on the wall frozen at exactly 9:17.

“What happened here?” He finally birthed a question, as barely audible words emerged out of his mouth.

“The future happened, my dear student.”

“I don’t understand.” Martin stammered.

“Honestly,” Alexa said. “I don’t either. I’ve been looking for answers, but I simply haven’t found enough information to formulate a hypothesis. Maybe the large hadron collider made a black hole instead of the sun. Maybe a supervillain made all of the nukes in the world detonate at the same time. Maybe it was aliens? Or maybe a wizard did it...”

“A wizard?”

“It’s as good a guess as any,” Alexa sighed. “The skinwalkers don’t like me very much - that’s all I know for sure.”

Martin stared at the supervillain girl in absolute stupefaction.

“I know that you blame people like me for being wrong, Martin. You want to declare me a monster. You’re undoubtedly collecting evidence against me, trying to bring me down. You’re free to do so. But understand something - the traffic signs in my tree house, I stole them from THIS city!”

Alexa jumped off the teacher’s desk, walking towards the deeply perturbed boy.

“I take things from four hundred years in the future, Martin. There are no laws here against dismantling highway signs. Except for the occasional skinwalker - but they didn't really believe in human rules. I take the signs as mementos of my victories against these buggers.” Alexa pointed out of the window at the long-limbed eldritch thing.

Martin looked at Alexa. Bitter, frigid wind howled through the exposed, shattered building, ashes floating up and away. The monstrosity in the window drew nearer. Martin saw that it had hundreds of eyes that glowed silver under the pitch-black storm. The thing wore an enormous, dreadful cloak made up of randomly stitched patchwork of blood-stained human skins.

“You’re going to help me retrieve my raygun from Miss Wickers.” Alexa told him. “Because if you don’t - one of those things will undoubtedly skin me alive. Do we understand each other, Martin?”

Martin nodded rapidly.

“That’s the spirit.”

Alexa's bracelet beeped. She sat down on her chair, grabbed Martin’s hand and guided him back to his seat. Colors returned back to the world with a flash.

Martin saw the classroom, as it was. As it should have been! Everything was back. The students, the teacher, trees, the sun and the blue sky. Martin wrapped his head in his hands and started to whimper softly into his sleeve. He wanted to be a hero, to save the world but his entire life he had been sheltered, protected by his parents. Faced with real death for the first time in his life, he snapped like a small twig.

"There, there." Alexa said, patting his head softly. "The future sucks ass, I know. I was raised by it, had to learn to survive in that awful darkness."

Martin choked, lifting his head and staring at her through tear-streaked eyes. She was looking back at him without fear. She was raised there? What did that even mean?

"Now, distract the teacher please, so I can get my raygun. Without it, next time, I might not get so lucky." She said.

"Next time? You're going back there?" Martin whispered.

"I don't control the future jumps." She answered far too calmly.

If she simply fell into the future then it meant that she wasn't a villain - she was a victim. Martin was raised with the mindset of a hero - he knew that he had to help this girl now, no matter what.

"Ms. Terranova, turn around! Mr. Kilborne, pay attention! Please stop chatting during class! I can hear you whispering all the way over here." Miss Wickers said sharply.

"Shhhh… shut up!" Martin stood up, wiping his tears. If Alexa wasn't afraid, then he too should be strong. He faced his teacher head on. "You don't know anything!!!"

"Excuse me?" Miss Wickers blinked.

"You and… everyone here! You're ALL GOING TO DIE!" Martin shouted.

"Quality distraction," Alexa mouthed, giving Martin a thumbs up.

"Now, sweetie, why would we all be dead?" The teacher asked, walking up to Martin.

"I don't know!" Martin answered. "I only know that in four hundred years the city is in ruins and skinwalkers are -"

Alexa quietly got up and slid towards the teachers desk, trying to open the drawer. Martin saw her struggle with it, realizing in a panic that the teacher must have locked up the raygun.

"Look, Mr. Kilborne. I don't know what this tomfoolery is, but you two are disrupting my classroom." Miss Wickers said sternly. She followed Marvin's eyes and saw Alexa trying to lockpick her desk. "I see. Both of you - go to the vice principal, now!"

"Make me." Alexa muttered, twisting a pin in the drawer's lock.

The teacher grabbed the girl by her backpack, pulling her away from the desk.

"Mister Canard! I've got a rowdy student here!" Miss Wickers yelled into the hallway as Alexa struggled against the bigger teacher, desperately trying to get to the desk drawer.

“She needs her raygun!” Martin pleaded. “Please!”

“Mr. Kilborne! With your perfect attendance records and prior grades, I honestly expected better of you!” The homeroom teacher said.

“You don’t understand! I’m trying to protect her!” Martin repeated hopelessly.

“Yes, I see that Ms. Terranova is a terrible influence on you. I will be reporting this to your parents.” She stared at Martin and he shrunk back under the pressure of an experienced educator.

“Raygun rights are guaranteed to me by the Superstate constitution!” Alexa declared.

"Young lady, you are not an accredited superhero of age!" Miss Wickers pointed out, undeterred.

"I'm just well preserved! This is clearly Supervillain discrimination!"

“One extra-rowdy student and one class clown!” Miss Wickers yelled into the hallway, one eyebrow twitching. “Will you hurry it up!”

A bald, extremely tall and bulky man wearing a tank top and adidas workout pants emerged out of the hallway, panting. Martin presumed that this was a gym teacher. Miss Wickers handed Alexa off to Mr. Canard, who grabbed her by the construction vest and yanked her out of the classroom. Martin followed.

“I should have worked harder on my doctorate.” Miss Wickers whispered under her breath, tiredly rubbing her face. “Eighth graders are the worst.”

“Let go of me, you sweaty ruffian!” Alexa growled, unsuccessfully trying to kick the gym teacher.

“I’m sorry!” Martin followed them, whining like a puppy, not knowing what to do.

“Mittens! Save me from this smelly, oversized brute before he throws me into the brig! Getting locked up is a big no-no! I’m allergic to confinement!” The girl shouted at Martin. Martin, for this part, assessed his possibility of defeating the gym teacher and found it wanting. There was no way that he could stop an adult three times his weight.

“Frig, Mittens. You’re as useless as a pet rock! Why did I take you under my wings? This educational experience was a terrible mistake!” The villainess hollered, unsuccessfully pelleting the gym teacher with her skinny fists.