Reality always tends to intrude, no matter how earth-shattering events may appear. I hustled my brother’s shade, for want of a better word, into the spare bedroom to wait for me while I cleaned up the sopping mess in the bathroom.

Oddly enough, this little chore served to bring me back to myself and calm me more than anything anyone could have said or done. It was the simple domesticity of it all, I think.

I had to stop the water flooding out before I could get cleaning, which I dealt with quickly by squeezing the water pipe tightly until the water stopped running out, then got on with the mundane, simple task, losing my worries and concerns in the process.

Finally, when the bathroom was clean and dry once again, I could no longer put off speaking to him. I entered the spare room to find him sitting quietly on the edge of the unmade bed, simply a frame and mattress. It wasn’t like I tended to have many people stay over; it can occasionally be a bit tricky to explain just why you’re all dressed up in a costume and leaving the house at 3 am so I tended to gently dissuade friends from asking if they could stay.

He started without preamble, “I would imagine you have a few questions by now.”

“Hah, just one or two.” My voice was slightly more scornful than I intended, most likely one of these little personality side effects he warned me about.

“Before you ask them, there’s a limit to what I can physically do now and there’s something I need you to do for me. There’s a pregnant woman currently enjoying my hospitality that is, very soon, going to very definitely not be enjoying it. You’re going to have to rescue her.”

“What pregnant woman? Enjoying your hospitality? Is that some kind of euphemism for ‘she’s in a death trap’?”

“Um, well, yes. I promised the council I would release her if they let me go. I’m a man of my word when it suits.”

“Why does it suit you to release her? I’m a bit confused about something, to be honest.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, you keep making a big deal about being evil…not just evil but Evil. Yet, you say you want to release this woman, you keep your word and, well, you come across as being quite nice. I felt your inner self and, although I didn’t realise it at the time, you have a strong core of honour. I don’t get it.”

He took a deep breath and settled himself more comfortably on the edge of the bed. He steepled his fingers together and leaned forward towards me where I stood.

“OK. I don’t really think I’m evil. I guess it’s a conceit on my part. Does it make me a bit of a douchebag? Probably. Do I care? Not in the slightest. It’s a convenient term that people use to describe other people who don’t conform to their way of life, standards, beliefs, morality, ethics.” He paused for a moment. “I’m just … me. I’ve got a sense of humour, I can help when I feel inclined and I can feel love. I think that what people call evil is freedom from petty rules, restrictions and societal tyranny. When I steal something, it’s because I want it. When I murder somebody, it’s because I believe they deserve it; even if it’s something as simple as cutting in front of me in a queue … especially for cutting in front of me. When I tell the truth, it’s because the truth is easier to remember, even if it can usually hurt more than a comforting lie. I can do anything because I believe I am morally justified in doing so; as the saying goes, ‘everyone is the hero of their own story’ and this is mine.”

I thought about what he had said for a moment. “That really doesn’t make any sense. It would be anarchy if everyone thought like that! Why refer to yourself as evil though? Even subjectively, that can’t be a good idea. If nothing else, it’s going to prepare people that you might screw them over. I’ve got to be honest, I’m not too thrilled about the murder thing too. Do you have any lines you wouldn’t cross?”

“Maybe, in my own way, I want people to know that if they cross me, they’re screwed. If they are outright told that I’m going to do something and they still let me, then it’s on them. Yes, there are lines I wouldn’t cross.”

“What? Where in that dark and devious mind of yours do you think that sometimes it’s too much?”

“I would never hurt a child.”

“That’s great! I knew you had a core of decenc...”

“Unless one was running at me with a weapon, then that kid is toast.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, enough of this psychoanalysis crap. Are you going to do your superhero thing or what? There’s a young lady with an unborn child who’s about…” He checked his phantom watch, “Four hours away from an unpleasant death.”

“Oh my! I didn’t realise it was so urgent. Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, there’s a bit of a problem with my memory since I got strangled by this woman yesterday.”

“But you remember that she’s only got four hours to live? Quite the selective memory there, brother.”

“Isn’t it just? I’m nearly as annoyed as you but probably not as upset as she’s going to be if we don’t get to her in time.”

I pursed my lips and tried to think. The sudden, urgent need to find someone I didn’t even know existed until a minute ago, filled my mind with anxiety. The rest of this would have to wait until after we had found her and got her to safety.

“OK, do you think you would have kept her in your secret lair?”

“My what?”

“Your secret lair? Where you plan your nefarious crimes and stuff?”

He gave me a look that immediately filled me with embarrassment. He spoke slowly to me as if I was a small child, “You know, in an alternate universe not too far along from ours, there’s a famous spy character called Glue or Bond or something. Whatever, it’s not important. His adversaries were always clever people with a couple of predictable behaviour problems. The first being their regrettable tendency to monologue at him, revealing all their plans, before his inevitable escape. The second being a strange choice in ‘lairs’. There were volcanoes, islands, subterranean bolt holes. I learned from these people. I never monologue. I simply incapacitate the people who come for me, if that doesn’t stop them, then I use deadlier force until they do. I also do not have a ‘lair’. I have a base. It’s very comfortable, I think you’ll like it.”

“You do realise that just sounded an awful lot like a monologue, yes?”

He huffed in irritation. “No, Sam, I just explained the difference between their lairs and my base.”

“Hmmm. Right. OK. Just a couple of quick questions though. Do you plan your jobs in your base?”

“Yes.”

“Do the people who come for you, find you in your base?”

He sighed again, apparently a little more annoyed this time, “Yes.”

“So, what you’re saying is that your base could be called your lair then?”

“Shut up. Honestly, do you not want to rescue this girl? Would you prefer to carry on making smart arse observations?”

“It’s your fault. I wouldn’t have even noticed something like before yesterday, let alone said anything. It must be your more charming personality traits coming through.”

“Yes, but. You. Oh, shut up. My base,” He stressed the word heavily, “Is in Strongmeadow, it’s in a nice secluded spot away from prying eyes and nosy ears. I probably would have taken her there. I think. Definitely probably.”

I tried to resist. I really did, but needling him was kinda fun. “Is it underground? Up a mountainside? In an actual volcano?”

He glared at me. “She’ll be there. I can’t think of any reason why I would have taken her to one of the others.”

“’One of the others?’ How many have you got?”

“Erm, one or two. I’ve got a couple of these particular holding devices in alternate locations so, given the time issues we should probably get going.”

“OK, hang on while I get changed. I can’t very well enter a villain’s secret lair dressed as a civilian now, can I?”

I got up, left the room and walked over to the hidden dresser where I kept my superhero attire. As I activated the entry, I heard him shout, “It’s a base!”

I smiled to myself. I felt much better now, I wasn’t sure why but finding out that I really wasn’t the same person as yesterday had calmed me down. Perhaps my altered personality was more resilient to emotional shocks now. It didn’t seem all bad. As long as it didn’t change me to the extent that I thought it would acceptable to kill someone for stepping in front of me while I was in line for something though, I could cope.