Tag Archives: Colonel Mortimer

A New Boss in Kingscrow 9

They got Doc and Max. Captured them. They were paying a visit to that rep. Doesn’t matter if they got to him now. Superheroes aren’t exactly spec ops. The whole mess isn’t quiet. Even if he doesn’t talk about it, the news is swarming all over the place. It was an odd choice, but I’m guessing they don’t have much choice now, what with the investigations.

Turns out Max has been messing with some drug testing results. Ridiculous stuff, of course. Horse steroids, deer hormone supplements, recombinant bovine growth hormone, and the usual pregnancy false positives. At the very least, they have to spend time looking over the guys, keeping them in doctor’s offices. The public scrutiny is great.

I wasn’t at the lab at the time this went down, either, doing the very important job of bringing back supplies from the grocery store. The usual. Snacks, drinks, cleaning stuff…tampons for the girls. Probably why I wasn’t in the building when they dragged the girls out and torched it. There would have been more casualties had it been me, but looks like Sam and Holly did ok on their own. Some of the enforcers had to be lifted out in a helicopter. From the looks of things, Sam went a little crazy with her piercing gun. The guy with the microwave connected to his tongue by a chain was easy to diagnose. I’m not sure what happened to the guy holding his crotch. Possibly an involuntary Prince Albert.

Despite the water and hitting me with various things and the jokes behind my back and the taunting, I admit I’ve grown rather fond of them. That’s why the guards with guns to their back wound up with 2 liter bottles breaking across their faces. Holly and Sam took the hint and made a run for safety. I don’t blame them one bit. I have been known to lower the life expectancy of people in my immediate surroundings. A merc in an exoskeleton turned toward them, but I blinded him with a pudding cup to the face. I tried to stop him from raising any more of an alarm by shoving a tampon in his mouth, but word got out anyway. For that, I relocated his nuts a few inches up his body.

The enforcers were forming up, weapons aimed at me, including more PKM soldiers. They were stopped as Col. Mortimer called out, “I want this one personally.” Past the soldiers, I saw bulky machinery rise up, then turn toward me. Mortimer’s face looked out from a bubble cockpit, his lower half protected by armor plating, like a medieval bevor. Fancy term for the part under the visor that protects the mouth and sometimes throat as well. Regardless of what I know about helmets, Mortimer stepped forward in this large piece of machinery and raised the sculpted fist, letting out a burst from the flamethrower on its forearm. “You’re not the only man in a power suit that can take down someone’s base.”

I threw the rest of the box of tampons at his cockpit and hit the stealth.

“You don’t want to show yourself. That’s fine. Let’s just hunt down those girls and throw them on top of the barbecue. There are no rewards for them. We can do whatever we want. Naw, that’s not going to do anything for you. We could level the whole block and it won’t move you. No girlfriend that we’ve ever turned up. No boyfriend either. We’ve already caught the closest things you have to friends. You are a man who leaves nothing but death behind you. The world will be happy when you go.”

Projections of me appeared charging him. He turned, punching, firing the flamethrowers on both arms. I even put one projection on one of his men with the misfortune of standing too close. I didn’t give him very long to play before I dropped them all and hung down where he could see me, looking at him upside down.

He couldn’t see it through my helmet, but I smiled at him as I waved the chicken heads around. I wish he could have looked between the mech’s legs to see all of them running around like explosive chickens with their heads torn off.

I laughed in his face as they went off sending us flying up with the mech’s legs traveling in different directions. At least, I laughed until the mech flipped over, falling head first, my too, too squishable flesh underneath it. I scrambled to climb up the thing and managed to get so far that my boots were under its arms when I landed. As we crashed and the cockpit bubble shattered, I was shaken off and greatly hurt my ass, to use the technical term. I jumped up quickly though and put on a show for the assembled soldiers around despite my aching tailbone.

“Oh yeeeeaaaah, brother, that’s what you call the Super Exploding Fisherman’s Burning Mech Piledriver 95. Who’s next, if you smell what I’m cookin’?”

They turned and ran.

“Hey you cowards, come back here and get your heads ripped off like real men!” I yelled after them. Then I heard a squawking from the downed mech. Sliding down beside the cracked cockpit, I could see the aptly named Mortie had a radio headset on. I slid it on out of there off his head and wiped some of the blood off before tuning in.

“Yeah bossman?”

“Mortimer? This isn’t Mortimer. Who is this? What’s happening?”

“Mortimer is currently indisposed. He’s playing Squash.”

“Put me on with him now or you can find a new job.”

“Please tell me this is Mr. Long.”

“It is. Your ass is in a sling now.”

“Mr. Long, it’s your ass in a slingshot if you don’t give me back my friends. I’d bring up Mortie here to testify to that, but he’s a rather grave man and I think he’d like to rest in peace.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Psycho Gecko. Your enforcers are no longer an issue in our dealings, so I guess all you’ve got left to defend yourself with are those heroes of yours. Your choice, I guess. Can guard the Good Doctor and Mix N’Max, or you can guard yourself. You don’t have the manpower for both at the same time.”

“They’ll be in my office in 30 minutes. I won’t be.”

I tossed aside the headset and went diving into the fire real quick, looking for any of my gear I could savage out of this. I did find one thing.

It was less easy making it to the zoo on time. Because I still don’t trust Bennett Long and because even if the place is empty, I want to wreck it a little bit. I had to run around pretty quick in there blowing locks off the gates. Luckily, I could ride for the next part. I hopped up on a giraffe’s back and wrapped my arms around its neck to steer. The motivation for giraffes, ostriches, and so on to run came from the lions, tigers, bears, and other predators I’d released second. A bushbaby hopped up on me, covering my face for a moment. I slid it around and it held on to my neck in much the same way I was holding the giraffe, except it got to sit to a big black case I’d strapped to me. Storks, starlings, even a kookaburra and a woodhoopoe all flew out ahead of me as I led the rush of animals down the street to the Long Life building.

If you’re worried about the slower animals, I didn’t take everything in the zoo. The penguins have to sit out until I can figure out some sort of ice gun.

As I approached, I realized it was good to have been skeptical. Paveman was waiting by the door, drawing from the asphalt and concrete to increase his bulk. He threw some chunks of it high and managed to startle the giraffe which threw me onto my shoulder, to the panic of the bushbaby riding me. Still, I knew how to deal with a man made of rock.

“Stop!” I said, pointing at him. “Hamerkop!”

Not just the Hamerkops, but a lot of birds landed on Paveman all at once, blinding him and allowing me to grab hold of an ostrich. It didn’t care for that, but it wasn’t going to sit around and argue with me with that tiger right there, so it used that bill to break the glass door and hop inside. I saw the birds scatter off the flailing Paveman as the tiger pounced him instead, probably breaking fangs in the process. Ah well, no accounting for taste.

The ostrich bucked me off when I tried to take it in the elevator, leaving me upside down propped up against the wall. Fucking ostrich. The bushbaby had crawled back on my face, protecting it but giving me an idea what ZZ Top sees when they’re upside down.

I moved it so it was behind me again as the ostrich tried to assault me. I was forced to pimp slap the bird before forcing the doors closed.

I was surprised the elevator was even moving, but I guess a trap is no good if you don’t get someone into it. My best guess is Paveman was panicked by the sight of a zoo coming down on his head. To be fair, that was kind of the point. I felt good though. Plenty of adrenaline. Even felt lighter, which I checked on and found the rocket case had broken free of my back on the elevator.

Well, there goes my big surprise to y’all about how the hell we’re getting out. That charred case is the only one I had left.

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A New Boss in Kingscrow 8

Another day, another building destroyed. With the data from the Mayor’s office, I found a few of those enforcer stations. Some thrown together quickly, some put in buildings designed for something else, and some were still being built. I found a pair of fun targets. One was closer to the lab than I’d prefer. The other was on the opposite side of the city, right near the bridge.

I put a distress call out along some of my contacts, groveling for someone to get me out of that station’s lockup. As a completely unrelated aside, it’d be a shame if anyone put a bounty out on me to unscrupulous supervillains who might attack the place looking to turn me over themselves.

As for the other base, I admit, my approach could have been better. It was near the base of the bridge, along a road that went just under it. You’d be able to see it on your right until you got too close, as near to the bridge as it was. If I had some sort of boat, or a scooter, or a cargo helicopter, this might have turned out differently. As it was, the way I went about it required careful timing. And a truck. And a lot of money. Also, some paper, ink, an envelope, and shipping. These are the details that make it difficult to fill out the “Illegal Income” portion of the tax form. I had to hijack the truck, which wasn’t all that difficult. An old coot swung a bat at me. I guess he had one to spare in his belfry. I threw a joker card in his face.

Then there was clearing out some of the cargo and removing the roof of the trailer. I’ve got a LOT of mayonnaise I have to get rid of now. Max doesn’t have enough freezer space for all of it, what with the zombies in there.

Then there was loading up the bowling balls. Always with the loading up the bowling balls, right? It IS the obvious next step, but it’s work intensive and I don’t have minions. I asked Holly to help, but she beat me with a stick. It hurt my feelings. And my phalanges.

So then, starting across the bridge and all the way across the bay, I accelerated. Got that sucker moving, I know that much. Was a little bit of an issue with other cars in the way, but that’s why I added the cow catcher and the giant grinning clown head with bulging eyes and long fangs. Looking back, I almost feel like calling it Psycho Gecko’s Happy Express.

Right there, close enough and fast enough, I jackknifed on purpose and slid over. I know, dangerous to do in the middle of traffic, but I had my power armor and seatbelt on.

The bowling balls went flying through the air, hundreds of them raining down on the LL enforcers and their station. It was solid brick construction, but these were bowling balls accelerated to 115 mph and flying from way up in the air. It was like a hail of bowling balls banging through the windows and roof, smacking a guy in a powered exoskeleton. I even saw one hit the sidewalk and bounce up between an enforcer’s legs. 7-10 split, know what I mean?

Of course, just when they thought it couldn’t get any worse, the rest of the mayonnaise finally landed. Even worse, weather report says we’re looking at a hot and humid day tomorrow.

Not everyone has been a fan of my initiative, however. I walked in the base later that night and Max sprayed me right in the face with some ice cold liquid. It was like it was freezing every pore on my face. “Ah! What the hell was that?” I asked, covering up.

“Water,” he said, and sprayed me again, this time on the back of the neck, “Bad Gecko, bad bad!”

“Whaaaaat?” I cried out as I tried to escape the onslaught of his cold spray bottle. Alas, the bathroom with its towels did nothing to save me. It was occupied by Holly. When I turned around, I got another faceful of water. “Argh, I’m melting in freezing ice water! What a world, what a world.” I curled up in a ball, holding my coat around me to try and protect myself. “What did I do to deserve such cruelty? Holly, Sam, help me out here!”

“It’s not about the girls this time. You just brought down a hell of a lot of heat on us,” I heard him say over me as he grabbed me by the collar. I sandbagged so he couldn’t yank me up or anything.

“Chill out. Smoke something and calm down. I’m sure you have some Fucital around here somewhere.”

That’s when the door slammed and the Good Doctor stomped in. “Where…” he muttered to himself before seeing me on the ground. When I tried to sandbag him, he stomped on my head. I held the back of it as I raised myself up on my knees, but before I could even get an Ow out, he grabbed my throat and started choking.

I nearly killed him. It happens. When I felt his hands around my throat, for a moment I lost all recognition of who this person was and my mind raced with deadly thoughts. The top of his mask was still on, but the bottom part was open. I could see his sneer, and somehow realized he wasn’t giving me his full strength. Realizing who he was again, my reluctant ally, I did the only reasonable thing I could do to snap him out of this. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my banana, peeled it, and shoved it into his mouth.

It is common knowledge that in the UK military, they train soldiers to deal with an attacker wielding a banana. This is because a man with a banana is a versatile foe who you should never turn your back on. Actually, turning your back on them is one of the safer ways to confront them, unless you slip on the banana.

With banana smooshed in his mouth, Doc was forced to relent. I had to cough a bit, but luckily there wasn’t a lot of damage. At least, there wasn’t until Max sprayed me right on the hair with his arctic spray bottle of doom.

“Ah! Stop that you two. What is the big dealio?”

Doc grabbed the sprayer from Max and threatened me with it. Truly, he has a heart of cold ice water. “Unless you’re in the middle of some plot to take over or destroy the entire city, you stay away from the elected officials,” he said, like it was a rule or something. I saw Sam come out of the den area with a big bucket of water. Her ambush was unnecessary now.

“Except the DAs,” added Max.

“Right, except the District Attorneys,” he reiterated all formal and whatnot.

“What, it’s a problem to assassinate him, unless I had anti-grav devices in the sewer and tried to float us all away?”

“Yes,” they all agreed. Doc, Max, Sam, even Holly from inside the bathroom. Followed by what sounded like a Muck Monster being born. Max raised his arm towards the door and let out a couple of sprays that gave everything a flowery scent.

“Shouldn’t matter,” I told them,” I have stymied his political ambitions. Ended. Finished. Arivaderci. Rubbed out. Maybe even killed.”

“It’s not too hard to see through that. Our feud is a rather public affair,” said Max.

“It’ll get a lot harder to see through when we get that Long Life rep who tried to sick the rest of the guys on us to come forward and testify. Then everyone will be too busy looking at the conspiracy and imagining coverups. I was just going to stop in, order some Chinese for y’all, then put the armor on, but noooooo, you had to drag that devilish bottle and your water freezing concoction into things,” I explained. The word of a villain is, unfortunately, not always trusted in court. Good thing I’m not trying to tell them the truth.

“We will handle the representative. You will be too busy drying off,” Doc said. Max gave Sam a nod. She threw the bucket of water on me.

“Will you people stop that already!”

Doc leaned down, looking me in the eyes. Or he would have, but my hair was draped over them like I was Cousin It cosplaying as Revolver Ocelot. Which, if it wasn’t me, would be a kinda hot image. Of course, Doc’s X-ray vision. He was probably looking into my eyes anyway. He spoke quietly to me, “You changed our conflict from dark villains taking on a corrupt businessman to murderous villains taking on the entire city. If you just attack a city like this then retaliation will come forthwith. You may be suicidal, but the rest of us don’t want to fight the National Guard.”

“Then we must make use of the ancient wisdom of a boy who has been snuck into his girlfriend’s room. Get in, finish quickly, and escape before someone shoots us with a shotgun,” I said. It elicited groans from the group, including Holly in the bathroom.

“That was crap, Gecko,” she yelled out.

“You would know!”

Max was looking over at the TV in his lab. Guy likes his cooking shows when he’s cooking up the devil dust. “If we go that way, and it appears we have been forced into this course of action, then we can avoid fighting them with appropriate foreknowledge.”

The news was talking about the attacks on the enforcers. First it had the station I mentioned that earlier as too close for comfort. The side of the building accessing the holding cells was torn open. The culprits, Rupt and Starnose, were in custody. The former had a light pole wrapped around his hands and neck, while the latter was laying knocked out with his head in a mail drop box. The heroes were there and mostly unharmed. General wear and tear, some marks gouged out of Paveman’s rocky form and Troubleshooter’s sonic dish was half bitten off.

Then it cut to the station I attacked. The station was wrecked and soldiers were walking around. They slipped on Mayo that was beginning to clear. One guy kneeled and cried over a meatball sub, obviously his lunch, which had been absolutely covered in mayo. That Colonel Mortimer was there and looking very unhappy around his black eye, holding a printed off picture of bowling pins I had couriered over in one hand and giving the camera crew a blurred out middle finger with the other.

I looked up at my comrades in arms, “I’ve got the balls if you two do.”

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A New Boss in Kingscrow 4

Despite what I said to you and to them, Tuesday afternoon I did walk the Good Doctor into the Long Life building, looking to all the world like a man in a trench coat turning in my former leather-clad ally. You could actually see the color drain from their skin. Naturally, they had armed guards there in a second with guns trained on us both.

Their uniforms were in urban camouflage, with bulky pads on the chest, thighs, and back. Military-standard for handling superior powered beings, which meant vests under the pads as well. Probably packing armor-piercing rounds as well. A decent setup in force against any supers without adequate armor or defensive abilities.

“Your rent-a-cops here can stand down. I have the situation completely under control and I will be keeping it under control until I get paid,” I told the receptionist nearest me, projecting a wide smile that could have been disarming. Hell if I know. Like I care.

“They’re just here to make sure absolutely nothing could possibly go wrong. Think of them as insurance to make sure you get paid,” she told me, fixing a grin on her face. Now, due to events entirely outside her control that culminated in the unsettling discovery that not only could pizza pockets burn, they could become too hard to eat, I was already in a bad mood. I was tempted to grab that pen she held and jam it straight up into her palette, then move it up and down to make her talk like a puppet. Then I figured maybe I should go the old-fashioned route and shove my arm full-on up her poop-chute. Not like I’m afraid of them adding another charge of Aggravated Anal and Fisting in the 2nd Degree. Before I could complete that thought, she told me to follow the guards and motioned to the nearby elevator.

What none of them knew as I dragged Doc into the elevator with me, four armed guards settling in around us, was that I was wearing my full set of armor. One of them inserted a key into the panel on the elevator and turned it, no doubt to give us all a private and stop-free journey. “I see you stopped wearing the armor that assembles onto you,” Doc said quietly into the comms hidden in his own mask.

“It is just easier to project a hologram that I was unarmored and unarmed,” I told him, my voice completely cut off from the outside at the time except through the link in Doc’s mask. “Speaking of clothing choices, they have vests under those big pads with all the knife room between them, don’t they?”

The Good Doctor’s X-ray vision is not named literally. He can see through various layers of material, but thick enough substances can stop him. A good, thick concrete wall is best if you don’t want him to know where you forgot to armor up at today or just which bones you broke for his own exploitation. He looked them over for a couple of seconds as our elevator climbed the building. “Yes, but standard Kevlar with all its many weaknesses.”

Doc was a kind man like that. I mean, sure he thought all the rest of us were immoral scum-suckers, but it fits with the story of how he joined us at the bottom. But I call him kind because some villains would have referred to Kevlar by its nickname amongst the villain community: TP. It means either tissue paper or toilet paper depending on the whims of the speaker.

The DINGing of the elevator alerted us to a temporary stop. Our little cohort exited the elevator with an extra detail of guards waiting for us before leading us to another elevator that required a key just to call. Another short ride way above the ground later and they sent us to a meeting room along. Nice room too. Thick, red carpeting that matched the cushions of the wood chairs that sat around a mahogany tableIn total, we had eight gun-toting mercenary “peace enforcers” standing around, thinking they’re hard, complete with “I wanna shoot me supervillain” boners.

“I wish you weren’t giving them this chance, Doc. There’s nothing else for us to learn before we crush them before us and hear the lamentations of their women.”

“My daughter is one of those women, Gecko.”

“…ALWAYS the lamentation of their women. Lament, lament, lament. It gives me a headache.”

“Ah, gentlemen, nice to see you. I’m Richard Terryson, and this is Colonel Mortimer,” said some executive patsy across the table from me with glasses and hair that shouldn’t be brushed back like that. So, the big man himself didn’t come down. This meant that not only were we dealing with a double-crossing backstabbing Benedict Arnold of a traitor, but now we knew he couldn’t be trusted either. Ok, what it really meant was he was at least smart enough to not meet us in person.

“Time to cause chaos yet, Doc?”

“We might as well.”

“Nice to meet you, Dick,” I said, where they could hear. I emphasized the Dick part. “Say Dick, I hope you don’t mind if I call you Dick, Dick, but let me ask you, Dick, is it ok, Dick, if you pay me in cash, Dick?”

“Uh, sure, if you’d just finally hand over the Doctor.”

I shoved Doc into a couple of the guards nearby and he fell awkwardly. They bent down to pick him up.

“Dick, that’s fantabulous, Dick. And Dick, by the way? This is gonna hurt.”

The Good Doctor stood up, freed, as the guards picking him up fell down, blood spurting out onto the carpeting. I grabbed a pineapple off my belt and bashed the guard on my left on the head with it hard enough that it flew out of my grip. Now, some of you may be wondering why I used a pineapple. Just go to your nearest grocery store one day and look at the pineapples for a couple of minutes. If the thought “I wonder what it’s like to bash someone over the head with that,” doesn’t cross your mind, then you’re not thinking about fruit right. Anyway, I pineappled one guard. Then I grabbed the chair in front of me and broke it over the head of the man to my right. Then I threw it at Dick, who was scrambling for the door. It hit him in the legs and he tripped. Mortimer drew a gun and fired, the bullet knocking my head to the side as I dropped the illusion that I was my civvies.

I’d have lunged over the table at him, but then the other two soldiers who I hadn’t hit and who weren’t being cut or garroted by the Doctor opened fire on me with submachine guns. I grabbed the staggered soldier nearest me on that side, his armor absorbing shots for me as I advanced. I peeked out over his right shoulder, “Yoohoo, assholes!” Then on the left side of his stomach, “You guys suck at whack-a-mole!” Finally I bent over, calling out from between his legs before I lifted the guard up and threw him over my back.

“Oh shit, you’re in trouble now, aren’t you?” I told the guard closet to me before grabbing his throat, charging up my other glove with energy, and give him a jumping uppercut to the chin. I ended the punch facing away from him, but I could tell by the whimpering of his buddy and the rain of blood and bone that I had just blown his mind. The other guard turned to run through the same door Dick had tried to get to, and the same one Mortimer had retreated through as well. I grabbed this guard by the belt and pulled him towards me.

His whimpering stopped just about the time I began the 63 on his ass. This time, I rotated along the Z axis, I think, then spun around behind me and launched him at the window. Normally, skyscraper windows are resistant to a person’s body weight. In my time, I’ve come to understand that they do not resist tanks, rockets, huge swords, chicken grenades, tank-sized superheroes covered in salsa, a casket full of bikinis, or a mercenary in full gear being thrown by a man in power armor. That last one I discovered just at that time, actually.

Doc snapped the neck of the man he had tied up with a garrote and stepped over to Dick, who had crawled back against the wall, terrified and probably dripping with the unpleasant variety of bodily fluids. The last living soldier in the room, the one I had broken a chair over, grabbed a grenade in his hand because he was a moron, so I pushed him back against the open air where the window used to be. He dropped that grenade in a hurry as he swung his arms out to try and catch his balance. I grabbed him by the collar and helped him back in by swinging him overhead and bringing him down on the center of the solid wood table.

I was hoping to put him through the table, but the cracking noise seemed to come from his neck, so that was a miserable failure.

I joined the Doc by the Dick, who had fainted. I bent down and slapped him on the face. Then I figured I’d try to wake up him. The second time, I slapped him with the hand that was used in the 63. He began to stir. “Dick! Hey, Dick. Dick, listen Dick, how many fists am I going to hit you with?” I asked as I stood up in front of him, both hands balled up in front of me. His eyes went wide. I kicked him in the side of the head, knocking him out again against the floor.

“If you said zero, Dick, then you were right…Dick.”

“Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick-!”

I was stopped by Doc bashing me on the head with the pineapple. He just looked at me, shaking his head. “Are you quite done yet?”

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