Tag Archives: Rupt

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 1

Gecko here. Got my car out of storage for the road trip. Big black beauty of a car sold as the 1951 Hudson Hornet. A very deep black, with my favorite orange coloring running in lines on the grill, the edge of the windows and windshield, and the bumper. I call it Black Sunshine. There’s a very basic unit in the trunk for replicating my nanites, so I’m ok for now. Goodbye Empyreal City.

I thought I had a job lined up in New Hampshire. Some tropical dictator’s son was messed with by a girl with powers. Something about involuntary sex change, so I can see why he’d be upset. Instead, he told me he was going to go another route, something that involved less revenge and more abusing his only son by disowning him unless he marries and bangs whoever the dad picks out for him.

New Hampshire, man. What a fucked up place.

So now I’m in Kingscrow. I’ve got people here. Not friends, not exactly. I think the only reason we hang out with each other is because we are fairly safe around each other. Oh, and we’re somewhat social outcasts on our side of the law.

I pull up some ways from a spot I remember as catering to my ilk. That’s right, I have ilk. Ilk that are catered to. There’s always at least one establishment like that in any major city. In Empyreal, it’s Rothstein’s Sports Bar. In Memphis, it’s the Back Alley Beale Street Voodoo Bar. In Paradise City, there’s the Saenger Café. Here, we have the Low Earthy Bar.

Despite the rain plopping on my windshield, I drove around the corner by the bar. I am not good at parallel parking, and this looked like a tight squeeze. Pulled up next to the forward car, adjusted my side view mirror, and flipped a switch to turn on a rear monitor, and got my rear lined. Then I settled my grip at the standard ten and two and pressed a different button with each hand. The front of my side-view opens and a blue blast blazed at the car in front of the spot I wanted. The car rocked forward as the chassis was dented and scorched. Behind me, the license plate, “CTUL US16”, dropped down and the barrels of a minigun popped out and rotated. The rounds peppered the rear car with holes likewise pushed it back.

In the end, I had plenty of room after all. I did readjust the side-view mirror to the correct spot as I left. It gave me the helpful warning, “Objects in mirror are behind you.”

Tell me if you’ve heard this one. Psycho Gecko walks into bar. The Low Earthy Bar is downstairs below a hippy pottery place. Sister Moonflower Rockefeller was tending the bar when I walked in.

I sidled up to the bar. Which is totally a form of movement I know how to do. Sidling. All the cool kids are doing it these days. “Hey there, Sister. Is Doc or Max in?”

She pulled a dread out of the way and gazed at me from over her glasses for a second before telling me, “Distractions lay between you and your goal. You may yet find what you seek once you learn to look past them all.”

“Thanks, Sissy Poo,” I told her, then slid a gold knick-knack from some Vatican drapery into the clay tip jar nearby. Turning towards the rear of the bar, past the dance floor, I saw Mix N’ Max. A pale goth with long brown hair and a burgundy coat and a ruffled white shirt on. He shared his booth with a pair of girls. One was dressed more his style with purple hair and black clothes on, but the other was more conventionally casual.

As I got close, I heard her insistently ask, “When are you going to get out of this place and go have some fun, Max?”

“You can check out any time you want, but you can never leave,” I said, pulling out the chair on the unboothed part of the table. She looked alarmed and pouty at the same time. The goth girl tensed.

Max just kept on grinning that black lipstick grin of his and leaned forward, “Why Gecko, the Doctor is going to be so happy to see you. What brings you to our dismal playground?”

“Change of scenery. I love dark and stormy nights. Perfect time to put on a hockey mask and go for a jog,” I replied. A doctor’s bag dropped onto the table in front of me with a soft glopping sound. I looked over my shoulder to see a man dressed in black leather surgeon’s scrubs and a helmet in the shape of the whole surgical mask and cap and a clear visor over the eyes, “I see a thunderstorm a day doesn’t keep the Doctor away.”

“Bollocks,” he said, and sat on the very end of the booth on the goth girl’s side.

“Spleen?” asked Max.

“Kidneys,” said Good Doctor, pulling out some cash and passing it over to Max.

“He bet he’d guess wrong?” I queried, poking the Doctor’s bag.

“He bet you died.”

“No, I took your bet that he didn’t.”

“Are we going soon?” That was from the casual girl to the goth girl.

“I think so,” the goth said, staring past us. It was growing kind of loud in that direction.

A furry hand with long claws slammed onto the table next to me. I looked up to see Starnose the Mole. Catching something in my peripheral vision, I turned to see a dusk colored lizard man with frilled ears and a mouth of fangs, dressed in a leather loincloth and chest straps, standing on the other side of me. They were both looking at Max. The Doctor stared up at the lizard man and I noticed him slide one of his surgical knives from his sleeve. The lizard man was too busy calling out Max, “The stuff you sold us stopped working after the first hit! You cheated us.”

Max leaned back without losing his smile and put his arms around the two girls on either side of him, “You changed the deal and only paid me half. Ladies, don’t be afraid, that’s just Rupt.”

Starnose’s claw slammed into the table again as a much a fist as he could make it. He spoke in a nasally voice, “You screwed up, Max. Your little junkie hos are going to have to carry you to the hospital after we break your legs.” The Doctor was quick to his feet, so I made my move as well. I grabbed the furry wrist on the table as I stood and yanked the arm behind Starnose, twisting it around into the middle of his back and upward in a standing hammerlock. He tried to spin to the side, but I hooked my other arm around his throat. Then he went to lift me up by ducking forward. I released the hook and punched him where the spine met the skull. While he was reeling from that, I hooked his throat again and straightened him up.

On the other side of my former seat, the Good Doctor struck quickly with his knife, finding weak points in Rupt’s scaled hide using his X-ray vision. Rupt had dropped down to his knees in pain, even though the wounds looked superficial. Max had reached into his coat at this point and pulled out a small clear packet of a powdery substance that was indigo in color. He asked us, “Doc, Gex, you two good?”

“Yes, these loathsome riff raff deserve it.”

“Yepperdy depperdy.”

Max poured the indigo powder into his hand and blew it over Starnose and Rupt. A coughing fit hit them as I let Starnose go, stepping back and dropping the holographic illusion I had projected from my armor of being out of my armor. “You don’t use the armor that hides on you and then comes together anymore?” asked the Good Doctor.

“Nah, this is just easier,” I said. That’s when Starnose and Rupt stood again.

“Aww man,” Starnose said as he looked over Rupt, “You’re a rubber duck!”

“I’m a rubber duck? You’re a rubber duck!” Rupt told Starnose.
“Come on, man, let’s go find a bath tub,” Starnose said as he and Rupt waddled out of the room.

“Behold the Dark Triad!” hammed up Mix N’ Max, arms outstretched to indicate the Doc and I in the little informal group someone had named us. “No one messes people up like we do!”

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