Operation “Wake up, cause chaos, have a beer,” has been working out pretty well, except it has been incredibly boring on my end. If this was just me on my own, that wouldn’t have gone over well, but I am a consummate professional on the job, as y’all can no doubt tell. I’ve had some time to heal up, rebuild, and restock, so I’ll just bring y’all up to date on everything.
In the time it took to relay what happened, we’ve been making life pretty hard on ole Benny Long. I won’t go into excruciating detail though.
Let’s start with The Good Doctor. He’s been hunting down some of Long’s doctors, focusing on the disreputable ones since he doesn’t care if we know that he doesn’t like to be like us. At the time, I was sitting around in my boxers only, on a bean bag, eating Cheetos and patching up my armor, so no offense taken. He’s got vision, though. He’s been using it to paralyze these doctors. He knows right where to hit them to keep them alive but unable to show it.
It’s not a perfect plan. After the first few were taken in for autopsy, they picked up on his trick. I suggested he find other uses for them and helped him dress a few up as gnomes to stand them in the botanical gardens. It was all fun and games until the bees came after us, but we were able to swat them away with this other doctor we were carrying.
He still wouldn’t let me use the guy as a butt scratcher though.
Still, there are only so many doctors out there who are complete bastards. For some reason, Doc doesn’t want to go after the ones who just write “recto-cranial inversion,” “faecal encephalopathy,” or “chronic biscuit toxicity” on the charts of difficult or stupid patients. Or obese patients, which is what that last one’s for. I suppose just this once I can understand his restraint. After all, if I was a doctor having to deal with those people, I’d probably be prone to a diagnosis of AMYOYO Syndrome, which was named after Dr. Alright Motherfucker You’re On Your Own.
He’s now resorted to hunting down past recipients of the organs he donated using the information Max has gathered for us.
Max has infiltrated some Long Life interests and given some administrators something to make them much more cooperative. He used that access to peek into Long Life’s database and to play with the legal drugs in those locations. You know, the ones that are deadly and addictive even when not made in a trailer park. The things that you take for pain that can actually cause an overdose.
If I seem biased, it’s because I’m pretty sure marijuana doesn’t cause anal leakage.
Max is funny like that. One hospital, he got real funny. For an entire day, every IV they gave caused an erection to the patient that lasted more than four hours. It was pretty amusing at first, but Max took it a step further and, to make a short story long, the women got them too. The surgery to correct that is pretty well known, but there were some who kept them. In a few cases, the women loved having their own. In others, a couple of women are suing because the hospital staff mistook them for men.
I wish I could say we planned to tie up the legal department too, but it’s just a hilarious coincidence, and I can say that because they’re not suing me.
Please don’t sue me.
Of course, that wasn’t nearly as destructive as when Max hit up one of the private clinics. Went in for a boob job? A few days later, the pair spontaneously lit up like fireworks and then deflated. He even took my advice and made them sound like whoopee cushions when they went flat. Went in to get looked at for an STD? Max’s truth serum will make sure you tell everyone all about how you got it. Botox injections? Maybe if you want the injection sites to turn bright blue, red, or green.
In light of this, and with high society being what it is, the Kingscrow Theatre Society’s Charity Ball was THE place to be this year.
As for me, not much interesting has happened. The guys just wanted me to sit around and work on my equipment. Get better prepared to take on the Long arm of the law. I suspect they knew about my plan with the zoo. Give me a large group of animals in the middle of a city, I’ll give you a show. Not the kind you’ll see in Tijuana, either.
The news has had a field day with Max and Doc, and even wild speculation about where I am.
Why would I agree to sit nice and quiet in the lab and get prepared? Because the media know that I sneak around and kill people in creative, loud, explosive ways. They get nervous when they don’t know where I am. I like it. I can be lazy, sit around, change up my cheeks, brows, chin cleft, and hair color, and work on a couple of plans to kick Benny in the nuts without taking depleted uranium to the cranium.
Also, all the speculation is messing with people and I’m totally shorting Long Life stock.
Like I said with the explosive chicken, reputation means a lot. Bennett Long wanted to swoop in and import a bunch of mercenaries under the guise of finally putting the supervillains down and earning himself political clout. Not everyone’s plot to take over the United States is quick and involves satellites with lasers. He’s off to a bad start. The only good part to the mess was his personal team of superheroes showing up to make their first public appearance. That and the Youtube hits from all the employees on their first floor dancing to Thriller while the police zombie unit runs around thinking it was a serious call at first. But back to the heroes. Troubleshooter, Mechamoto Musashi, Forcelight, and Paveman, who I didn’t see at the building. Everyone’s been crawling all over the new heroes. Paveman’s old news and Troubleshooter has been around a bit, but the real story is Mechamoto and Forcelight. A mysterious superhuman cyber samurai and a flyer with what they called “kinetic light” powers. I suspect they were cobbled together by Long Life.
Ah, and here’s the Mayor.
I said they wanted me to sit it out and I said I did enjoy getting to work some in the lab, but where I am currently is the Mayor’s office.
“Yo, what up, Mr…Addison is it?”
“Mayor Addison. Who are you and what are you doing at my desk?” asks the bald, somewhat overweight man in front of me.
“Just sending dirty emails to your secretary. Good to see you the ones I sent you got you here fast enough this time of night. Also glad to see you have information on the locations of those new Long Life enforcer stations. In light of that, I’m willing to offer you a proposition,” I say as I pull the maps up. My hand is on top of the tower under the desk, melded with it. Chatting with y’all was something to do while I downloaded the data.
“You still haven’t told me who the hell you are. I can have the police here in 5 minutes,” he looks indignant at that and turns to the door.
“My name’s Psycho Gecko, so calling them is just gonna get people killed. I’d rather keep the death toll down this time around, so sit and talk,” I said with a grin, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.
His face is getting red, but he restrains himself from speaking and sits down.
“Good, I’ve come here because a friend has told me your political opponent Bennett Long is trying to work with members of the criminal underworld to take control of the city.”
It’s true. Max’s goth girl walked into the lab earlier today while I was working on some things.
“Hey Thing 1,” I told her.
“The objectification is cute, but my name is Sam Hain. Max wants you to learn it or he’ll turn you into a cod fish. I bet you haven’t even given me or Holly any tags in that blog of yours,” she said.
“Completely untrue,” I told her, knowing she can’t read it in this dimension.
“Uh huh,” she said, then sat down on the nearby couch, “You’ve got Cheetos stains on your chest.”
“Dangit, woman, I’m trying to put a chicken together!” I told her. Blatant lies about the stains, by the way.
I leave all that out here and now as I talk to Mayor Addison. “She told me a representative of Long Life met with various gangs to get some support. The bounty thing isn’t working out since we tore up the towers, so he’s promising cybernetics and jobs as enforcers when he’s mayor. Claims to have higher ambitions.”
“Do you have a recording that would prove this?”
“Nope, but I can get a hold of one that will do a nice job of incriminating him and ending his campaign.”
“Officially we never had this talk, but I think you and I have the same goal in this instance,” he says. He looks much more agreeable. That’s when I get a message I have been waiting for from Max in my helmet. I just nod, hold up the controller and give it a push. The pad under the Mayor’s current seat launches him and the chair into the air with amazing force. And into the ceiling. And the next ceiling up. The one after that as well. Through the roof. And there he is falling onto a war memorial outside dedicated to brave WW2 paratroopers.
Nope, no recording. I had asked Sam about that earlier. She threw a pillow at my face. It was horrible. I nearly suffocated.
Ah well. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a phone call to Bennett Long’s office letting him know in no uncertain terms that the Mayor has been eliminated for him. No uncertain terms, but very easily recorded ones that are about to get leaked out to the press.