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This message Dead Boy #2 was posted by Nats on Tuesday, April 30, 2002 at 18:49.
Dead Boy #2
Contractual Obligations
The helicopter was large, and very very black.
So black, that it was truly darker than the night, with was illuminated slightly by a sliver of moon hanging precariously in the sky.
The young man was seated in the rear cabin of the helicopter. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, black spandex-like pants, and black metal boots which ended just under his knee, but supported by kneepads.
He fitted fingerless black gloves onto his hands, and strapped goggles with red lenses on top of his head, resting them at his hairline.
The helicopter travelled silently through the night, only making a dim humming sound.
The interior of the vehicle was mostly black leather and carpeting, except for the control panels in the cockpit, which were mahogany wood grain.
The pilot descended slightly over Carrington and continued on through the skies.
A caucasian man in a black suit and purple tie sat next to the pilot, and smiled.
The young man remained in the spacious back cabin alone.
The helicopter descended more, over Pierce Heights.
Pierce Heights is described in The Guide to Parodiopolis as a luxurious village where some of the richest people in the world live and work. Donald Trump and Bill Gates have summer homes there that they rarely frequent. The former mansion of Mark Hopkins, also known as spiffy, who happens to be mayor of pretty much every city in America, is located there, but no one has gone near it in years, for fear of the beavers. There is also the McKinley home, which has since been abandoned, on account of all its owners dead or in prison.
The more higher-up businesses are based in Pierce Heights, instead of Carrington, which is the major financial district of Parodiopolis.
Also, the more sophisticated person(read: filthy stinking rich person) may find such places as The Auburn Camel Masseuses, M, a post-modern bar, The Willow Nightclub, or The Fancy Sherpa laundromat very relaxing and enjoyable.
There are also high-society clubs, for the rich, richer, and stinking rich to socialize at, and brag about their wealth. Some of these include The Royal Magistrate Banquet Hall, The Leyland Reed Memorial Country Club, The McAllister Tavern on the Hill, and The Englehart Hunt & Game Club.
However, the most exclusive, secretive, and downright spookiest society has to be The Heckfire Club. Spoken about only in whispers, the Heckfire Club is a seclusive society composed of only a precious few members.
Little is truly known about the Heckfire Club. Going back to the days that Parodiopolis was first founded, the Heckfire Club has been around, and only the oldest and richest families in the city are a part of it. Many believe it to be some kind of cult, or perhaps a group devoted to sex. Still others think it is a secret society that imports foreign taxidermy.
No one is right.
The Heckfire Club is truly an old society, and its members are those of the richest and oldest families in Parodiopolis. Still, no one knows their true origin.
The true sinister secret of the Heckfire Club, is that they are actually other-dimensional beings known as Hero Feeders. They thrive on the energy of super-heroes, devouring it like energy parasites. The current members of the Heckfire Club are not descendants of the original members; they *are* the original members.
Currently, they have a visitor.
Leoff Marlowe was a distinguished lawyer. That is, only if lawyers could be considered distinguished. He lived in one of the ritzier hotels in Carrington, and commuted daily to Pierce Heights, for he represented many rich people there, including the Heckfire Club.
He was currently inside the building, chatting calmly with Simonides Slaughter, the Black Emperor of the Heckfire Club. Leoff, of course, did not know that the Club was composed of cosmic Hero Feeders, but instead thought that it was just a ritzy social group with a penchant for fancy dress. This means that he didn't know about the dungeons underground with kept several lesser-known heroes captive.
Leoff was currently pushing several papers in front of the esteemed Mr. Slaughter for him to sign. These papers involved such matters as the breaking of new ground for a possible new Heckfire compound, and the purchase of a restaurant in Manga Town, all standard procedure, of course.
Little did Leoff currently know, but just as Simonides Slaughter was signing a contract for increased security of his property, a certain pale-skinned living corpse had entered the trophy room.
With the goggles over his eyes, the young man was viewing the room in infra-red, which told him that the cases that covered the walls were protected by heat-sensitive lasers. If these lasers detected enough body heat, they would activate the alarms.
However, having already bypassed the cameras and alarms up to this point, the young man continued to scan the walls until he came upon what it is he came for in the first place.
Leoff was a graduate of Harvard, towards the middle of his class, yet with enough flair to land him the high-paying jobs. As he left the Heckfire Club throne room with a manila envelope under his arm and a wad of cash stuffed in his pocket, he throughly declared to himself that it truly was a good day to be him.
He'd change his mind soon enough.
The young man casually stepped through the heat-sensitive barrier and broke the trophy case open with his fist. The lasers, looking for heat, would find none in his cold dead body.
The prize he had come for dropped into his hands. It was a small gold box, and looked like it would hold jewelry or a few small trinkets. He sniffed, wondering why his employers would want this. Still, it wasn't up to him.
He turned to leave.
Then he saw Leoff Marlowe, attorney, taking a shortcut exit through the trophy room.
The young man rolled his eyes and sighed softly. He didn't figure there was any way to get out of there without the odd redheaded man in the green suit noticing him.
He turned around and looked for another exit.
Yale Lee was lost hopelessly in despair.
You see, Yale was a minor super-hero from China known as the Star. He had the ability to mimic the abilities of animals on the Chinese zodiac. As the rabbit, he could leap high. As the rat, he could move fast. As the dragon, he could unleash powerful force blasts.
Of course, the power-dampener burrowed in one of his left molars disabled his powers. This seriously affected whether or not he would still be imprisoned in order to remain on next Wednesday's menu.
There were others with him, yes: Bus-Stop, Waterfall, Shelf, Unicorn, Ralph...but they all had power-dampeners. There was no chance of an escape.
That is, until Yale saw the pale man wander into the dungeon hall.
He hurriedly picked himself up out of the dirt and dust he was lying in an ran towards the cell gate, banging furiously on it.
The young man turned to look at him. He inspected the lock on the gate.
Yale went to speak, but the young man held a finger up to his lips, urging Yale to be quiet. The young man kicked the gate as hard as he could. It didn't budge.
Then the man pulled a pistol out from his jacket and slipped a silencer on it. Then he shot the lock. Then he kicked it again. It burst open.
Yale ran out and excitedly shook the young man hands.
Then he pointed to the other prisoners.
The young man sighed.
As the pale man with the gun strode over to the other cells, Yale worked on pulling out one of his left molars.
Leoff Marlowe ambled down one of the many hallways, whistling to himself.
He enjoyed his job. He had the good life.
Getting paid more cash than people could even dream of by having rich people sign papers and talking the IRS out of suing them for tax evasion.
Leoff was a fast talker, a smoot walker, and a thoroughly dirty scumbag.
Still, he loved his life.
He stopped loving it shortly after the wall next to him exploded outward, sending him flying across the hallway and into the opposite wall.
Then Yale Lee, the Star, having recently self-removed the power dampener inhibiting his abilites, stepped into the hallway, followed by the rest of the former prisoners.
Leoff gulped. He was suddenly filled with fear, dread, and despair.
Yale grinned. He suddenly felt like he had the good life.
The helicopter picked the young dead man up in the backyard.
The dead man climbed in and sat down, tossing the small gold box to the man in the black suit, who grinned.
"Good work, Dead Boy," he said.
The dead man spoke, and it seemed like he hadn't used his vocal chords in years. "I hate that name," he replied.
"Well, you *do* need a code name, because we really don't have anything else to call you." The man in the suit tossed a small device to the young man.
'Dead Boy' caught it. It was silver, and gun shaped, but had a small syringe filled with a green liquid inside of it. The man pressed the point against his neck and pulled the trigger. The green chemical emptied out of the syringe and flowed into him.
"So why do you need the box?" he asked.
"You'll see," stated the man in the suit. "Your job gets bigger."
Continued...
Nats
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