I was up early and out of my room without any breakfast, since I had entirely forgotten to purchase food the night before. Despite my growling stomach, I had more important things to do this morning. I needed minions and a secret lair to begin my reign of terror, and I wanted to get them nailed down as soon as possible. A month wasn’t long to build up my reputation.

My target this morning was a used clothing store in the seedy part of town, a few blocks from my new apartment. According to my file, this was the closest place where I could pick up some minions, and I also hoped they might have some black tights and body suits. It never hurt to have some backups in case my costume got ripped, and those things could be ridiculously expensive if you purchased them new.

I scanned the storefronts. Grocery store, pie shop, drug dealer...aha! A building I had mistaken to be someone’s house, a crumbling relic from before the days of apartment buildings and skyscrapers, actually had a hand-lettered sign hanging in the window that read Beatrice’s Boutique - Gently Used Clothing.

I climbed the three cracked stone steps and eyed the wooden front door. The peeling blue paint and rusty metal mailbox nailed to it at waist height didn’t fill me with confidence.

The door creaked horribly as I opened it, but a cheerful bell tinkled in contrast, doing its best to drown out the creaking.

“Hello?” I called as I eased the door shut behind me, ignoring its protests.

“Hi there!” A voice called from somewhere within the dimly lit interior. “I’ll be with you in a sec, I’m just in the back room.”

“No rush,” I replied, glad for a chance to scope out the store by myself. A disused fireplace in the corner and a collection of black-and-white family photos on the walls suggested this place had started its life as someone’s home. But instead of furniture, racks of clothing filled the open space and shelves lined the walls, all of them stuffed with clothes. A large wooden desk with a cash register lurked at the back of the room, guarding a doorway hung with a faded red curtain.

I wandered further into the store, wincing as the floorboards squeaked under my feet with every step. The place was quaint. Homey, if you liked that sort of thing. Of course you can’t always trust appearances, but the shop didn’t really scream villainy. I dragged my fingertips along one of the shelves and wrinkled my nose as they came away grey with dust. It didn’t scream good housekeeping either. No wonder there were so many clothes on the shelves – I’d bet I was the first person to visit in at least a couple days.

“Okie dok, what can I help you find?” A woman pushed through the red curtain and graced me with a sparkling smile. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with laugh lines framing her eyes and auburn hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. I took half a step back, surprised. What had made the Rubes single her out as a potential minion? I had expected her to be moody and scowling, forever unhappy with the state of the world.

“Are you alright?” Her smile began slipping away as I did nothing but stare silently.

“Oh! Yes. Yes, I was just, erm, thinking,” I said quickly, trying out a smile of my own. What had been my excuse for coming here? “I was wondering if you had any black tights or bodysuits. For dancing, you know.”

“Oh, you dance? How wonderful! I used to take classes myself, but I haven’t done it in years. Come on through to the dining room and let’s see what I’ve got.” She waved me through an archway in the far wall.

I hurried after her, raising a whole chorus of indignant squeaks from the floor, but stopped dead on the threshold of the next room.

The first thing that caught my eye was the enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling, sparkling in the light that crept through the room’s grimy windows. It sent miniature rainbows dancing across clown wigs and bowler hats, capes and sequined jackets, ball gowns, frilly skirts, cowboy boots, and tights. More tights than I had ever seen in my life – a whole rack was devoted to them, stretching from black at one end of the room to sparkly neon pink at the other.

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It was a supervillain’s paradise. Any costume imaginable could probably be pieced together from what was in this room. Out loud, all I said was “Wow.”

“You like it?” The woman asked, turning around with another brilliant smile. “I collected costumes when I was little, and when I opened up this store, it seemed like the perfect place to put them all. My husband didn’t think it was a good idea - costumes don’t sell as well as normal clothes and all that nonsense, but I convinced him. Of course he’s dead now, so I can fill this room up as much as I want!”

“Oh, I’m, um, so sorry,” I said, surprised by her light tone when she spoke of her husband’s death, particularly to a complete stranger she had met just a few minutes previously. What was I supposed to say in response to that?

“Ah yes, sad, but what can you do?” She shrugged, turning to the rack of tights and busying her hands with flicking through the black section. She cast a glance over her shoulder, eyeing me up, and then went back to her rack, muttering to herself. “Let’s see here, probably about a 30-inch waist, and maybe 32 tall?”

She turned abruptly, holding out two pairs of black tights. “Why don’t you pop into the change room and give these a try? I’ll look into that bodysuit while you do.”

“Alright,” I said, accepting the tights from her as she bustled past.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s the old bathroom, so it’s a little small and the floor is cold, but it’s the best we’ve got in this draughty house.”

I was beginning to see why someone at the Academy might have chosen her as a potential minion. She was like a nicer, more cheerful version of Gran. Together we traipsed through the dining room, through a closet, and into the bathroom, which had a floor length mirror propped against one wall and a fuzzy pink cover on the toilet.

“If you’ve got any questions, my name’s Bea. Just give a holler.” With that she left me to change into the tights, which I did as quickly as I could, feet dancing on the cold tile floor. Both pairs fit pretty well - one was a little baggy at the knees and the other was tight around my waist, but at least they weren’t ripped.

Tights in hand, I returned to the front room. I couldn’t see Bea anywhere, so I set my tights down on the counter and started browsing the racks of clothing here. I needed some everyday clothes, since Gran had only given me the one set. I picked out a faded pair of jeans about the same size as the leggings, and a couple of t-shirts with indistinct logos on them.

“Still here?” Bea called from the back room.

“I’m up front!” I replied.

A few moments later she emerged from behind the curtain. “I’m afraid I didn’t have any bodysuits. Not much demand for those around here. Did you like the tights?”

“Yes, thank you,” I opened up my wallet and began carefully counting out coins as though every dime was a personal injury, when I actually had stacks of bills stuffed into my backpack at that very moment.

“You don’t happen to need an assistant, do you?” I asked Bea as she rang my purchase through the cash register. The question popped out of my mouth without waiting for my brain to catch up and decide if this was a good idea.

Bea looked up at me, frozen in the act of typing in the price of my new jeans. “Um…”

“It’s just that I’m new in town, and I don’t have much money saved up, so I really need to find a place to work.” I could feel heat rising in my cheeks as I babbled. This was what happened when I wandered around without a mask on – Delphi came out with some stupid question and there was no convenient persona to hide behind. My plan had been to check out all the potential minions before making my choice. But the truth was, I liked Bea, with her roomful of costumes and her cheerful bossiness. I wanted her to say yes.

She gave me a sympathetic look, and my heart sank, even as I reminded myself this was a good thing. There were lots of fish in the sea, and I shouldn’t be getting emotionally attached to a potential minion anyway.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but this place doesn’t make much money. I can’t afford to hire an assistant, and even if I could there wouldn’t be anything for you to do. Although...” She paused, biting her bottom lip.

I pasted a hopeful, innocent half-smile on my face. Nothing but a naïve country girl, out on her own in the big city. No supervillains here, that was for sure.

The smile must have worked, because she gave the tiniest nod. “My fiancé does need help moving some boxes today. Our backyard is full of them, and she’s been at it all morning without making a dent. I can’t pay you, but I can promise you a couple of meals at least.”

“That would be great!” I chirped, keeping my smile fixed in place. A few hours of moving boxes wouldn’t set me back too much.

“Alright then, um...” Bea trailed off. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Oh, right.” I hesitated, mind going completely blank. For all the time I had spent coming up with the perfect supervillain name, I’d never once considered my secret identity. The only name that came to mind was my own. It wasn’t a great solution, but it would have to do for now. Bea was already giving me a weird look for taking so long to answer what should have been a simple question.

“It’s Delphi.”