The Mad Waxxer was, well, mad. That is to say, the threat of territorial usurpation left him angry. Even his scheduled session with the barber for a shave and a haircut couldn’t break the cloud of anger beguiling his mind. But it was the post-haircut shower that finally showed him the way forward, as the bathroom proved again to be the most inspirational and creative of rooms.
He didn’t mind other supervillains. They had been around before he got in the game and they would be around afterward. Other kidnappers would be a problem that could derail his career. But a kidnapper using the same gimmick? This was an affront, a direct and personal challenge even. The Waxxer scoured the newspaper article on the kidnapping for any information about his foe. There wasn’t much there, as the article was primarily the reprinting of a ransom note left at the newspaper and confirmation that Lauren Blanc was indeed kidnapped. The trainer confirmed the kidnapping, and the abilities of this Brazilian fellow, while also providing the scoop that the Mad Waxxer had been beaten to the punch.
If the Mad Waxxer was in the business of revenge, he thought he might go find that trainer and make sure the man’s drapes matched his ripped off carpet. The Waxxer had seen too many people sacrifice good business sense on the altar of revenge. Would it make him money and help his brand in the long run? No, therefore the Waxxer would leave the man be.
And as suspicious as the Waxxer could be, the author of the story didn’t seem a worthwhile target. At first, he wondered why the Brazilian had picked that particular newspaper, or any newspaper. The man could have made a video and uploaded it to Youtube. But then, why not the newspaper? A video is just a video unless the right people see it, but this note is the news. The Waxxer had better things to do than intimidate reporters because he didn’t like a story.
With a kidnapping, time was of the essence. The Mad Waxxer cursed himself for spending too much time wallowing and thinking when action was called for. He needed to get out ahead of the kidnapping. The police had their ways of dealing with these situations, but he could do things they wouldn’t.
The Mad Waxxer grinned to himself as he finished toweling off. It was time to fight fire with fire. Or a kidnapping with a kidnapping.
Lauren Blanc’s boyfriend, Gordon Hart, owns a number of properties all across the country. The apartment Blanc herself had been staying in wasn’t the only such apartment he owned in that building. It was an easy investment, and would make finding someone a nightmare if they were of the mafioso mindset. But the Mad Waxxer’s long and antagonistic association with Connecticut blue bloods and those who associate with them led him to believe Gordon wouldn’t think to go to the mattresses. Why should he? The person meant to pay the ransom isn’t generally in danger of being kidnapped as well.
Gordon was staying in his Danbury condo. The newspaper’s story caused reporters to hunt him down for comment. These types often preferred to handle scandalous problems privately to avoid attention, but now the Waxxer knew where to find him.
It was a beautiful building along Candlewood Lake’s shore and it was being watched by reporters. The influx of unfamiliar people hid the Waxxer’s approach in a van. Most of his kidnappings were not as consensual as Theodora Hunnicutt’s, nor could he simply swing from building to building to escape in every situation.
The Waxxer made his move at dark. Coming around to the side of the condo, he took aim with his whip. It latched onto a stone eave and held firm as the Mad Waxxer hauled himself up the side of the building. He found it helped to walk up the side, though it made him more visible. That’s why he took care to check the windows he passed by. He intended to enter at the top, but the second story window’s curtains weren’t drawn and revealed Gordon Hart in bed with someone other than his kidnapped girlfriend. On the plus side, the Waxxer was now confident he could enter an occupied room without being detected. They were far too busy to look at the window.
He cut the top of the window free, then spread wax and stuck a strip to it. Then, using a diamond-tipped cutter, he carved out a slightly smaller rectangle on the window. With a little effort, the Waxxer lifted it up, pivoting along the top where the strip still held it, and used another wax strip to pin it to the wall. Finally, he swung through, using the sonic oscillators to release his whip’s hold on the building and retracting it upon landing. To his amusement, both the noises and positions of the couple in bed kept them from noticing his grand entrance. He looked around to wear a snifter had been left on a sideboard and helped himself to a quick drink. As expected, it didn’t take Gordon long.
“Was it good for you too, baby?” the wealthy 29 year old retiree asked of the woman straddling him. Before she could lie, a wide paper strip was thrown over her mouth and she was pulled off him, causing Gordon some discomfort as not all of his body parts were soft and outside of her. It took seconds for the Mad Waxxer to affix her to the ground and turn his attention to the naked man in bed.
“Pardon me, Mr. Hart. I’m here to see to the release of your girlfriend. Not this young lady, though I suspect she would enjoy release as well. Come with me now, Mr. Hart. It wouldn’t do for this to become brutish and nasty.”
Gordon turned to the nightstand and pulled the drawer out. He produced a pistol from within, but fumbled and dropped the magazine. He stood to get it and that’s when the wax strip whip smacked against his forehead and pulled, spinning him toward the Mad Waxxer. The Waxxer whirled the whip around Gordon until the man was wrapped in it, taking extra care to wrap up the man’s midsection. That proved useful for when he needed to lift Mr. Hart onto his shoulders to carry him downstairs. He would prefer to drag him, but head injuries are no laughing matter when someone is going to be held against their will. A hostage in need of medical care means the hostage taker must also worry about resolving the crisis in a timely manner, and that is a poor bargaining position to be in.
The Mad Waxxer encountered a small problem when the doorbell rang before he had yet reached the door. He looked around for something to dump Hart on and had to settle for tipping him up against a wall. He got halfway to the door before he heard a thump from the wiggling hostage falling. The Waxxer sighed and continued on, checking the door’s peephole. There stood a man in a suit with a badge, and two regular police officers.
The Waxxer nodded to himself and muttered, “Perfect.” He turned to glance around the entryway, then got to work.
After a few minutes of prep work, he called out, “Come in!” The cops opened the door, then stared at the Waxxer, holding the same tied-up person they came to see. The detective in front pulled his sidearm. “On the ground, now!”
The Waxxer shrugged, tossed Hart on the ground, and laid down. “You got me. Good show.”
The detective nodded to the officers. “Come on.” All three stepped forward into the dwelling, then fell forward onto their faces when their feet didn’t come up again. The detective’s gun and his hands stuck to a set of paper strips on the floor. He tried to pull himself up, but he was stuck fast, as were the other two officers. A glance down at his feet and he saw more wax strips holding their shoes to the floor.
The Mad Waxxer groaned as he hefted the hostage once again upon returning to his feet. “This has been quite a workout, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I leave now. Fortunately, you’ve saved me the trouble of leaving a note. The Mad Waxxer has struck again. I will be in contact with the details of the ransom, but Mr. Hart here will be unable to pay the ransom for Miss Blanc. Tragedy and woe. I suppose there’s nothing left but for the fiend who took her to return her, harmed or unharmed, as the ransom is an utter impossibility now. It’s a shame. Ta ta, gents!”
He smiled as he stepped walked on the detective’s back to freedom right out the front door and into his waiting van. He speed off, a nearby reporter’s car cranking up to follow him. As it turned the corner, it found not a white van, but a large white shell of paper in the street as if the van had shed a coating held on only by some sticky substance.
The Mad Waxxer slipped away while the police were stuck.
The Mad Waxxer felt absolutely tops after his adventure the previous night. It was late news, online only, but the word soon spread that Gordon Hart had been disappeared by the Mad Waxxer. The Brazilian’s victim was worthless to him without someone to pay. It left the Waxxer feeling a joyful sense of having obtained revenge and more than made up for sticking Hart in a diaper and leaving him locked in a soundproofed mobile storage unit.
He felt twice as energetic during his morning swim and could barely lay still during his massage. To put his mind on something and prevent fidgeting, he decided to check his phone while he was on his stomach. When the Mad Waxxer saw the news, he was caught with his pants literally down as a result. He hadn’t yet sent his ransom demands to Gordon Hart’s trust or his father who could authorize the ransom, and now it wouldn’t matter. The Brazilian had kidnapped the man.
Details were sketchy. The elder Hart had been driven to his office in town, stepped out, and was pulled down into the embrace of The Brazilian who had somehow been waiting on a street luge. The Brazilian grabbed the man, held him close, and they disappeared into traffic. From what he’d seen of the man’s powers, the Waxxer was sure he’d latched onto the underside of a car for transport. He realized the younger Hart was now mostly useless to him unless the other villain held onto the model.
He set his jaw and began looking up who would have the power to pay the elder Hart’s ransom, determined to show this wasn’t over. The world would soon learn that the Mad Waxxer cannot be dislodged by just any luger.