The dryers were all empty. Shutting the last dryer, I couldn’t help but laugh at my problems. My suit would need to be repaired if it was washed, yet I couldn’t even find it to determine how badly damaged it was. I realized I would most likely need a plan B.
Dressed in one of Chet’s sweatshirts and a pair of drawstring gym shorts that were drawn tightly around my much smaller waist, I decided to walk back to Leona’s to wait for her, at which point I would nicely ask where the hell my suit had gone.
I found Wallace and Leona both waiting for me, and Leona got up quickly, an apologetic look on her face already. “Duggan, I’m so sorry, I washed your suit and then forgot about—” She stopped as she got closer to me, sniffing the air. She crossed her arms while an amused smirk formed on her lips. “My, that’s an interesting cologne you’re wearing.”
Feigning innocence, I said, “I’m not wearing cologne.”
“Oh yes you are,” Leona said, and then snorted. “I believe its called Sweaty Chet number five.”
“You kissed him?” Wallace asked.
“No, he did a lot more than kissing, judging from the smell of him. In fact, I’d say he put Chet through his paces to get that much sweat out of him.” Leona went back to her couch. “How was he?”
“Everything I imagined, and then some,” I said. I dropped onto the couch beside her, letting a tired grunt escape upon impact.
I explained how my lucky accident occurred, concluding with, “He even cuddled with me after we were done. I’m sure it was a one-shot deal, but I don’t mind. What I got was more than I had the right to ask for.”
Wallace laughed, getting up to refill his coffee mug.
Leona took my suit out of a basket beside the couch and handed it to me. I didn’t ask her why she washed it, not caring to find out if Chet’s assessment of her motivations was accurate. If she had done it to sabotage me, how could I blame her? If she didn’t, and it was just a mistake, I could hardly yell at her for doing what she had considered a good thing.
Plus, if she hadn’t washed it, I wouldn’t have gone to see Chet dressed in a convincing manner.
I followed Wallace to get myself a cup of coffee, and then I changed out of Chet’s clothes in the kitchen. I smirked at Wallace and Leona, who both made lewd cat calls from the living room.
I folded Chet’s clothes and put them in a bag to give back to him later. I was afraid I might try for a round two if I returned them right away.
“I’m going to the lab to hire some extra help,” I explained as I went back into the living room. “This plan will require extra hands, so I ran an ad in the paper a few days ago. Wallace, do you feel like patrolling, or have you got patients to see?”
“No, I can go on patrol,” Wallace said. I’ve left my schedule clean until next Monday.”
“That means Leona gets the day off,” I said.
I’d meant it as a joke, but Leona shook her head as she stood. “I’ll go out with Wallace.”
“So being a hero was fun for you?” I teased her.
“It isn’t exactly fun, but it sure is more satisfying than robbing the museum for the thousandth time.”
I smiled at that, walking over to kiss her. Leona’s eyes were as big as saucers when I released her. Pleasantly surprised she smiled and asked, “What was that for?”
“For washing my suit. It made a convenient excuse to show up on Chet’s door half naked. Now as for you,” I said and walked to Wallace, hugging him tight. I backed up to look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you be my first real lover. I got worried over doing the right thing instead of doing what felt right, if that makes any sense.”
Wallace nodded and kissed me. “It makes perfect sense to me,” he agreed. “Some day, after you retire, maybe I’ll come visit you. We’ll see what happens then.”
By that point, I had two conflicting emotions brewing inside me. I was elated at all the sudden attention, but it did irritate me when I thought about how that attention didn’t come until I was quitting my job.
Of course, now I realize that I had been under the influence of Workaholic’s Syndrome, so all the attention that had been heaped upon me before was outright ignored.
I wasn’t able to notice any of it until I was sick of work. Go figure.
We all left Leona’s apartment, and I lingered long enough to watch them begin their patrol. Leona leapt to the top of a building and disappeared as she jumped from one rooftop to another. Wallace was gone from my line of sight just a moment later.
I turned to look at Chet’s apartment, wondering if he had seen such an amazing thing; a shrink and a super villainess teaming up to fight crime. I wanted to ask him, but I had other things to take care of that day.
I found the area in front of my lab crowded with men and women of every shape and size. They caught sight of me and surged forward to hand out their resumes. Instead of taking them in, I waved my hands for silence.
“I will begin interviews in ten minutes at the front of the building. Please have your resumes and references in order. If you have neither, spend this time coming up with one good reason for why I should consider you good henchperson material.”
With these instructions given, I went through the back door and into my lab. I took off my broken suit and walked to my apartment nude, almost tempted to look over my shoulder to see if Leona was there.
I showered and dressed quickly, going to the door and opening it to find a crowd on my balcony. “Hey! Go back downstairs, you dumbasses! I will be doing interviews one at a time, so you can fight for places in line down there!”
The day did not get better from there. Two hours and dozens of falsified resumes had given me a headache, mainly because most of these losers thought henchperson meant sidekick. I found myself wishing that I’d just stayed in bed with Chet all day. Briefly, I even considered a daydream where I had, but that fantasy ran in terror from the thing that shuffled through my front door.
The guy—at least I assumed it was male—looked like a mating of Quasimodo and Mr. Snuffaluffagus, with a bulging green eye and another normal-sized one. He was hunch backed, and had tufts of thick brown hair jutting from out of his collar. Honestly, how he had even fit himself into his dress shirt was beyond me, but he was clearly intelligent enough to try and be presentable. I gestured to my couch and watched him sit down stiffly, covering his mouth as he huffed a short nervous cough.
“Name?” I asked curtly, figuring this to be another short interview.
“Morgan,” the thing said and handed me a resume, returning to his very rigid posture.
“While I go over this, why don’t you grab a soda from over there?” I suggested. “You seem so nervous that you have a dry mouth.”
“I—uh, thank you.” Morgan said and got up, walking to the table.
I looked down at his resume, my eyes hitting on an interesting piece of information. “You’re a lab assistant?” I remarked in a hopeful sounding voice.
“Yes. I worked for Burgess LeVeaux before he retired,” Morgan said as he returned to the couch. “Since then, times have been lean for me.”
“Ah, I see. I’m sorry to say this, but the job I’m offering is only temporary. I’m retiring next week, but I’m leaving on one last plot to keep me in everyone’s memory for all time.”
“Okay.” Morgan started to get up.
I held up me hand. “Wait. I didn’t say I couldn’t use you. I’m just letting you know that you can’t expect a long term gig.”
I smiled, not wanting to lose my only good lead of the day. “Will temp labor be all right?”
“Yes, of course.” Morgan sat back down quickly. “It would be an honor to work with a living legend, even if it is short term.”
He was buttering me up and we both knew it, but he did have a lot of qualifications. I actually felt bad that such a brilliant mind had gone unnoticed for this long, and on a whim, I reached for the cell phone on my coffee table.
I dialed a number that had almost faded from my memory, with the intent of calling in an old favor from a friend in New York.
“What?!” The voice on the other end bellowed.
“Bella, calm down. It’s Duggan. You remember me?”
“Oh, oh yes! How could I forget you? Your New Year’s Eve party still gives me flashback hangovers,” Bella joked. “Are you hosting another one, or did one of your parties go badly?”
It’s a bit of an inside joke, which requires an explanation. Bella Monte Carlo felt I was nothing more than a rank amateur, so he called all my plots parties. The New Year’s Eve party he was referring to, I set off a bomb that leveled the bank I was intending to rob. All I wanted was to blast a hole in the back wall.
Instead, the whole building became unstable and exploded. The blast from the bank’s chain reaction blew out every window for a city block. Bella was working in his office when his window burst, killing five of his best henchmen. Miraculously, he was unharmed.
Bella’s plots were works of art compared to mine, and his scientific abilities greatly exceeded my own. I liked to tease him that he seemed more like an angry scientist than a mad one, but he was one of my mentors for the longest time.
I smiled at him teasing me after all these years, giving a short laugh. “No, I was calling to see if you needed a decent lab assistant. I’ve got this guy, Morgan Funeral, and he’s going to need work soon. He’s got good references too, including Burgess LeVeaux.”
“You’re kidding me,” Bella said and laughed. “How soon can you send him here?”
“A few days. I need him for some lab work, but after that he should be free to fly to New York.” I shot a questioning glance toward Morgan, who was already nodding his head.
“That works for me, Toots. Hey, when are you going to come up for a visit?”
“Soon, I’ll try to call later and set something up.”
“Even if you don’t, don’t be a stranger,” Bella chided.
“I won’t. I’ve got to go Bella, but I’ll call you later,” I said and gave Morgan a thumbs up.
“Later, Toots,” Bella said and hung up.
No, I’m not explaining why he calls me that.
“Oh, I can’t thank you enough!” Morgan said.
“Ah, forget about it. I couldn’t let a good lab assistant go to waste. For now, you can go to my lab back through that door and get yourself acquainted with the layout. I’ll be down in a little while to see where we go from there.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said and jogged to the door leading to my lab.
I got up and went to the front door, looking at the line. It was still growing, so I decided to shorten it a bit. “Excuse me! If you are here to apply as my sidekick, please go home. I’ve already got one, if you hadn’t read my comic!”
Quite a few left, but there were still too many to interview in one day. I decided to thin the herd again. “Oh, and all of the jobs are only temporary positions! None of the jobs are going to last longer than three days, while others will only last one!”
Sadly, this left me with only one applicant, a skinny red-headed kid with a slight acne problem and an overbite that was visible even from where I stood upstairs.
I sighed and waved for him to come upstairs. He did so quickly, showing quite a bit of hustle.
I gestured to the sodas and sat on my recliner. “Get something to drink, uh—”
“Wally Monroe,” the kid said and went to the table. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I pointed to the couch. “Have a seat. I take it you don’t have a resume or references.”
“No, sir,” Wally said, winning bonus points for being polite.
“Then you must have come up with a good reason to apply for the job,” I prodded.
Wally shook his head. “I uh…I came to apply as a sidekick just like all the others. But after I saw all of them leaving, I figured being one of your henchmen would still be kinda cool.”
I realized then that Wally was also fairly young looking. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen, sir,” he said and blushed. “I guess it was a stupid reason.”
“No, it’s an honest one, and I like that. I need a gopher at this point, so you and I will head down to the lab so you can meet your only coworker.”
I got up from my recliner, but Wally was up before me. He surprised me by giving me a tight hug.
He stepped back and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away.”
Laughing, I waved me hand. “Don’t worry about it. Today is my lucky day as far as hugs are concerned,” I joked as I led him into my laboratory. “Morgan? Where are you?”
“By the repair bench,” Morgan called.
I found him already looking over my suit and nodded approvingly. “Hard at work already, I see.”
“Yes. This suit looks like some idiot washed it with bleach,” Morgan said.
“It was washed, but I wouldn’t call the person who did it an idiot unless you want to see what your own lungs look like.”
“Ah, thanks for the info.” Morgan gestured at my suit. “The fiber optics are all completely shot, and the neural connectors have residue that would inhibit a proper connection. I can get this up and running, but I can’t find half the tools I’d normally use for a job like this.”
“You should make a list and give it to Wally here. He’s going to be your gopher to insure that you have anything you’re missing. Wally is a neophyte though, so I’d suggest making your parts list as detailed as possible for him.”
“Can do, boss,” Morgan confirmed.
“Excellent. While you two work on that, I’m going to head downtown to visit a friend and ask for a favor.” I walked to my vault, opening it to pull a collar off of the rack.
I hissed at the neural links engaging and shuddered as I shut the vault door. Flying out a window in the lab, I got my bearings then headed straight for LeVeaux Tower, the tallest building in the city.
I didn’t bother with being polite, and I phased through a window instead of taking the elevator.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asked in a snooty voice as I walked up to her desk.
I guess she was unimpressed that I’d just flown in.
“I’m here to see Burgess LeVeaux. Tell him it’s Duggan Masters,” I told her brusquely, already being familiar with her type.
“If you don’t have an appointment, Mr. LeVeaux won’t see you.” the receptionist said without even looking up.
I reached out, putting my finger under her chin and raising her face so that her gaze met mine.
She looked up at me haughtily and opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped as I wagged my finger at her. “The name was Duggan Masters, and if you don’t call him now, you won’t see him either. You won’t because I will rip your pretty green eyes from their sockets with my bare hands. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” the receptionist squeaked as the color drained from her face.
She picked up the phone beside her, dropping it and grabbing it before it hit the desk, as if her life hung by that single cord.
“M-mister LeVeaux? There’s a Duggan Masters here to—” She paused before she gave a short nod and hung up. “Yes, sir. He’s free to see you now.”
“Of course he is,” I said, striding across the lobby to the huge twin oak door of Burgess’ office.
The doors swung open, and I saw Burgess smiling at me from his desk. Crossing the thick-piled plush carpet, I took a seat and smiled at the fact that it was more comfortable than my recliner in my apartment. Briefly I considered stealing one of his chairs, but decided it would definitely make asking for a favor tough.
“Duggan, it’s been a while,” Burgess said amicably. “Have you finally gotten bored with the game?”
Burgess had been the overlord before me. He had named me his successor to the highest seat of power in City, even though he hadn’t known me very long. He told all the long-time ass kissers surrounding him and vying for the job that he liked my style. In private, he told me that he’d rather give me the job over every useless leech in City.
I worked at crime to make it pay, and the others did what they were told, hoping for the day when they could order everyone around. A crime overlord has to be better than that, and Burgess knew it. He told me that I had what it took, and he left the reigns in my hands with only the briefest speech.
When the turf wars began, I quelled them easily. Burgess told me that should I have asked him for advice, he would have given it. The fact that I didn’t need his help proved that I was the right person for the job.
It should go without saying that I felt a great deal of respect for Burgess, but nevertheless, I will. I knew the respect we shared for each other is what would allow me to ask for one huge favor. Which is why I decided to bring him in on my plan, even though he had long since retired from crime to become a media mogul.
I steepled my fingers under my chin and took a deep breath. “I’m retiring next week.”
“I see.” Burgess gave a short nod. “Have you chosen your successor?”
“No, and I’m not going to,” I answered honestly.
I had to. You see, Burgess has one gift, a form of empathy which he can use to know whether someone is lying or not. I was not aware of this ability when I first met Burgess, who asked me if I wanted his job. I told him then that I would take it only if it was given to me. Then as with now, I believe my honesty with him would help affect his decisions.
Burgess looked at me with surprise, though not unpleasantly so. “You realize that not naming a successor will cause the turf wars to be especially bloody. By naming a successor, you allow one person to hold sway over enough of the clans that the dissenters can either be satisfied or—”
“I know the rules of engagement, but this can’t be helped. After my last plot, no successor would hold any authority based on my endorsement.”
“What are you planning? Not another planes from the sky idea, I hope?” Burgess asked as he crossed himself.
“No. It was that plan that’s convinced me to retire. I’m becoming too lethal in my old age.” I said, and then looked down at my lap. “I’m going to publicly bring Miracle Man out of retirement.”
When I looked up Burgess’ eyes were bulged wide. He regained his composure and nodded his agreement. “It makes sense. Miracle Man would halt the flood of super villains, and it would get the locals back in line. I suppose part of your plan works on the premise that his return will lessen the impact of the turf wars.”
“Yes.”
“So what do you need from me to pull this literal miracle off?” Burgess asked.
“I’ll need six cameras, and crews to man them. I’ll be cloaking them, and all the signal feeds should tie in through a main van before the broadcast signal is sent from LeVeaux Tower. My man will be handling the controls in the main van.”
I did not bother with niceties like asking please. Either Burgess would help me or not, and pleading wouldn’t matter either way.
Burgess nodded. “It’s all yours, Duggan.”
Curious about his lack of hesitation, I asked, “You aren’t mad over my intentions?”
Burgess shook his head and smiled. “I’m no longer a criminal, so Miracle Man’s return to work is in my best interest. You can have the equipment and crew with my blessing.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully and stood up, shaking his hand before I left.
The receptionist was quivering as I walked by her desk, and so I stopped, turning to look at her.
“Don’t kill me,” she whimpered.
I walked to her desk, leaning on it. “I won’t, but I will have to punish you horribly if you ever take an attitude with me again.”
“Y-yes M-Mr. Masters,” the receptionist stammered. “I’m very sorry.”
I took the time to use the elevator and walk outside, smiling at the bright blue sky above me. Phase three was complete, and once Morgan had repaired my suit, the day of reckoning would be upon us. It was to me a very good thing, as Wallace had only a few more days before he would quit, and I didn’t think I could pull off my plan without him.
Instead of flying home, I decided to walk and enjoy the remains of the day. All told, it was as near to perfect as one person can get. I had fulfilled a long time fantasy and seduced Miracle Man. I’d discovered that my dear Wallace desired me just as much I did him, and I was walking home with the final puzzle piece of my grand final plot tacked in place with a handshake.
Yes sir, it was an almost perfect day, which of course should have warned me to be on guard. Sadly, that didn’t happen.
I was halfway home when I felt a gun in the small of my back. I had a collar on, so I wasn’t worried. I let the burglar lead me into an alley, not panicking in the slightest.
I planned to tell this loser exactly who he’d held up before I killed him. But first I would figure out who was idiotic enough to mug me.
“Give me your wallet!” the mugger shouted.
“Do you have any idea who you’re messing with?” I asked.
“Yeah, a dead man,” the mugger said. And then he shot me.
I gasped and fell to my knees, dimly aware of the sound of my assailant running away. I looked down at the gaping wound in my stomach where the bullet had exited.
I realized that he’d been packing hollow points.
A lot of things go through your mind after putting your hand inside your own guts. My first thought was that I was wearing my collar, but as the world greyed, I had a revelation.
I had grabbed the collar that Wallace used, and he had most likely blown out the collar’s force field. As much as I wanted to figure out how he could burn up the collars, my mind began to wander as my vision darkened.
Finally, the darkness swallowed me, and that was that.
... I write dark fiction in a variety of genres. My blog contains my rants and rambles, and some short fiction that can only be found here.
I can be pretty fucking offensive, so viewer discretion is advised.
Oh my, talk about a nasty way to ruin your day. And just as everything was going so well.
It’s like they say: a massive gut shot is nature’s way of telling you to lay down.