Far Out!

The Note

This round of Overkills angst was inspired by "Love In An Elevator" (Digging Up Shakespeare) by @gray-zelle. #sorrynotsorry

Content alert: angst and lots of hurt feelings

A few minutes after eleven, Herb pulled into the garage and cut the convertible's engine. The sound of his jaunty whistling echoed off the walls. After an evening of scientific lectures and hobnobbing with a group of fellow evil inventors, his head swam with complex mathematical equations and far out gear ideas.

The conference had been a gas, but the night was still young. After grabbing a snack, he looked forward to some late night shows and a cuddle or three with his groovy wife. It had been a long four hours since they'd last seen each other.

Grabbing his briefcase, he exited the car. Before entering the fortress proper, he extended a black-gloved finger and depressed the intercom button that would broadcast his message to every room. Living in a huge castle with dozens of rooms made an efficient communication system an absolute necessity.

"Babe, I'm home."

He waited a moment, but there was no answer. Maybe she was...indisposed.

He pressed the button again and rumbled into the speaker. "Babelicious? Heading to the kitchen. I'll catch you there."

Still whistling, he strolled through the door. A few minutes later, he reached the kitchen, only to discover a darkened room. He flicked on the lights. Empty. Nothing moved except the billowing pink curtains that framed an open window.

Huh. Scarlet must really be indisposed if she wasn't here yet. He hoped she hadn't come down with a cold or her monthly troubles while he'd been gone.

The snack could wait. Best to check on her first. He set his briefcase down on a nearby chair and changed course for the master bedroom.

The bed chamber's soft carpet absorbed his footfalls as he entered. Lights blazed everywhere. The bed was unoccupied and neatly made. The closet door, however, gaped open.

"Scarlet? Babe, you in here?"

He checked the enormous walk-in closet—a room in and of itself, actually, and regally decorated—as well as the bathroom. Both were as empty as the kitchen.

Pursing his lips, he headed for the control room.

From the castle's headquarters, they could oversee essential operations such as the defense system. Herb had also rigged the entire place with cameras. He had installed them mainly as a way to detect potential intruders, but also to monitor villain guests if they engaged in suspicious behavior while on the premises.

They also came in handy if he was trying to locate his wife without walking all over the enormous place.

Herb sat in one of the two purple, high-backed chairs before the console. After flicking a few switches, the cameras came to life. He now had the entire fortress at a glance, including the surrounding grounds.

He diligently checked the camera feeds—all the feeds coming from every screen. As in, every single last one. Mysteriously, there was no sign of Scarlet.

Unless she was perched on the ceiling in a camera's blind spot, his current investigation revealed that his wife wasn't in the fortress.

Then his gaze zeroed in on one screen in particular.

One thing was definitely missing from the fortress, and that was the jet.

Strange. He rubbed his chin. Before he'd left, Scarlet hadn't said anything about leaving. In fact, she'd been dressed in a silky pink robe, her hair adorably mussed, and was busy reviewing design choices for an ad she planned to place in a villain trade magazine. As far as he knew, she was going to be home the rest of the night.