R.A.S.H (Rent.A.Super.Hero) (Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent Book 2)

by Sebastian H. Alive

  "We know your deepest, darkest desires," whispered Agent Two into the Doctor's other ear. "Those obsessive desires want to be heard."

  "W-what desires?" stuttered Doctor Deathrape.

  "Don’t hold back," hissed Agent One. "Don’t deny yourself."

  "Don’t hold back what?" screeched the Doctor nonplussed.

  "You know what carnal desires we're talking about. We know your preferences, you just need a trigger and the time has come to live out your sexual fantasy in an ocean of ecstasy."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Just then there came the low humming sound of an electric motor from down the corridor and the limp, lifeless body of Captain Fanspastic rolled slowly into the room on his motorized wheelchair, and came to a gradual stop before the table.

  The old man was slumped in his chair with his head chin resting on his chest and he was naked except for a paper nappy with tubes protruding from the legs holes, and in his claw-like grasp he held a small tub of baby lotion.

  "Is he…dead?" gasped the Doctor.

  "Sadly his body gave out." answered Agent Two solemnly. "It was his time."

  "What do you want me to do with him?"

  "Think about it," said the soothing voice of Agent One. "You don’t need to check the local obituaries for corpses. By anyone's standards he's prime cadaver but his body is ready for one last journey. See what I've got in my hand, it's the keys to your handcuffs. You can have them."

  "I don’t understand." mumbled Doctor Deathrape staring at the keys bouncing up and down in the palm of the agent.

  "Then let us explain. We will allow you to make love to that dead body if you tell us the location of the Count first."

  The agent let the words sink in to the Doctor who licked his lips and gazed longingly at the motionless body of Captain Fanspastic.

  "But…but it's a criminal act." stammered Doctor Deathrape.

  "We never saw a thing," remarked Agent One turning to his colleague. "Did you see a thing Agent Two?"

  "See what?"

  "But this is wrong." whispered the Doctor.

  "It's so wrong its right."

  "Who needs consent if you're dead?" added Agent Two.

  "That is true," mused Doctor Deathrape. "But he's wearing a children's nappy!"

  "Technically it’s an adult nappy. Think of it as a collection device."

  "He's male too!"

  "A minor detail I'm sure," said Agent One. "Just tell us the location of the Count and you can have your fun with the corpse."

  The Doctor sat there looking forlornly at the old man in the wheelchair then glanced up at the agent.

  "I have been a little lonely recently." he admitted.

  "No-one likes to be lonely, right?" said Agent Two spreading his arms. "Just give us the location."

  After a few moments of deep thinking Doctor Deathrape shook his head angrily.

  "No, no, no I won't," he snapped. "You will not break me and I don’t care how hard you try. Take him away."

  With a sigh Agent One looked across to Agent Two and shrugged his shoulders in defeat and said, "We nearly had him."

  "No you didn’t." yelled the Doctor.

  "But you were thinking about it, you weirdo."

  "No I wasn’t."

  "You were definitely tempted."

  "Just get him out of here!" cried the Doctor angrily.

  "Okay, okay calm down!" replied Agent One walking over to the old man and bending over him. "You can stop pretending now."

  But the old man didn't move.

  "Come on, Captain," he said nudging him. "The Doctor isn’t interested in your wrinkly ass."

  But still the old man didn’t move.

  "What's wrong, agent?" asked Agent Two with a frown.

  Agent One nudged Captain Fanspastic then tried to shake him and the bottle of lotion fell from his grasp onto the floor.

  "Slight problem," he muttered checking the old man's pulse then placing his fingers against his throat. "I believe what has happened is that the Captain has indeed passed away in the last few minutes."

  "Are you sure he isn’t sleeping?" questioned Agent Two looking concerned.

  "I'm not falling for it." yelled Doctor Deathrape shaking his head.

  "No, he's actually dead I'm not joking. Quick help me lay him on the floor."

  "Oh crap." replied his colleague running towards the wheelchair and helping him gently lower the old man to the ground.

  "I think he's in cardiac arrest." cried Agent One frantically.

  "I'm not doing CPR, no way." protested Agent Two.

  "Quick, go get the mobile defibrillator!"

  The agent nodded his head and darted from the interrogation room and returned moments later with a briefcase sized box which he placed on the ground next to the old man.

  Flipping open the box Agent One turned the AED's power on then attached the sticky pads to the exposed skin of Captain Fanspastic, one above his nipple and the other slightly below and to the left of his ribcage.

  "Stand back." he warned to his colleague.

  "Let's hope it works," muttered Agent Two moving away a couple of steps. "Because I really am desperate to revive the man who plans to eventually kill us."

  "Clear!" shouted Agent One pressing the red button on the defibrillator.

  Suddenly the old man's body convulsed and he arched his back violently. Leaning forward on his knees the agent laid his ear against his chest but still there was no sign of breathing.

  "Clear!" he yelled once again pressing the button.

  The shock was delivered and the agent listened for signs of life.

  "Come on, come on, come on, live you miserable old bastard!" he cried.

  "Why don’t you two agents leave the rooms while he's still fresh?" asked Doctor Deathrape.

  "Clear!" he shouted again pressing the button.

  Just then Captain Fanspastic sucked in a breath and his chest started rising up and down and the agent sighed in relief and sank to his haunches.

  "The Kraken lives!" mumbled Agent Two looking thrilled.

  The old man's weak eyes fluttered open and he tried to whisper something but his mouth just opened and closed without any words coming out.

  "What? I can't hear you." said Agent One kneeling over him.

  "I…I…I said, I still hate you." he whispered hoarsely.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The interrogation part 4

  The two agents burst into the interrogation room throwing the door open so gently it caressed the wall startling Doctor Deathrape who was seated and handcuffed to the table.

  They strode over to the prisoner and stood over him with their arms crossed glaring down at him.

  "What now?" smirked the Doctor. "You're both out of ideas, aren’t you?"

  "He's right, it's not working and I'm out of options." said Agent Two hopelessly.

  "We best go tell the General, and I'm not looking forward to that." muttered the other agent.

  They made as if to leave when suddenly Agent Two paused mid-stride and held his finger up into the air.

  "Hold on, there may be one final way." he hesitantly.

  "Really?" asked Agent One.

  Agent Two's eyes widened and a smile broke out onto his face then he shook his head.

  "No…no, we can't do that." he said to himself.

  "Do what?"

  "No…we shouldn’t. But it may work."

  "What is it?"

  "But we really shouldn’t." replied Agent Two sounding unsure.

  "Tell me!" cried Agent One.

  Leaning over he whispered into his ear glancing over at the Doctor as he did so.

  "That may just work." said Agent One with a grin spreading over his face.

  "What are you planning?" asked the Doctor suspiciously.

  Both agents smiled evilly then departed the interrogation room without another word. A few minutes later they returned with the triplets and pushed them into the room.

  "Boys, yo
u remember Doctor Deathrape, don’t you? He's our prisoner and isn’t being very co-operative right at this moment. We want to find out the location of the Count and he won't tell us."

  "You think after everything you've done so far that these boys dressed in those ridiculous outfits will get it out of me?" snorted the Doctor.

  "Doctor, may I present the most annoying, hateable person on the planet, multiplied by three." said Agent Two with a smile.

  "What do you want us to do?" asked the triplets in unison.

  "Oh, just be yourself boys."

  The two agents gave a cheerful wave then left the room locking the door behind them with an audible click.

  Five minutes later his screams could be heard echoing around the building.

  "We broke him." said Agent One dunking his digestive biscuit into his drink.

  "Give me a knuckle-brush." asked Agent Two holding out his fist as he sipped his coffee.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Plan

  "Everything?" asked the General in disbelief. "He told you everything?"

  "We broke him, sir," said Agent One proudly. "He spilled everything."

  "You broke him?" queried the General, looking at one agent then the other.

  "I'd say more like damaged."

  "Definitely long-term damage," agreed Agent Two. "But he told us everything we wanted to know about the Count."

  "I admire your work, agents."

  "Well, when you employ interrogation specialists of our caliber sir, then results will inevitably follow."

  "Cut the crap Agent One, what coercive methods did you use?"

  "We locked him in the room with the triplets, sir." answered the agent.

  "Hmmm…irritating little bastards aren’t they?"

  "Spawns of annoyance, sir. It turns out the triplets do have superpowers after all, to be bothersome to the point of insanity."

  Grunting in acknowledgement the General slid from his office chair and walked around the table and over to the agents staring up at them.

  "Can you stoop a little?" he asked twitching his moustache. "It hurts my neck constantly looking up at you both."

  "Like this, sir?" asked Agent Two bending his knees.

  "That's perfect, agent. Now what do we know about the Count?"

  "The Count is a single male, no dependants, and is holed up in a steel underground bunker in downtown London underneath a gentlemen's club named Platinum Secret. He's incredibly paranoid and the bunker is heavily protected with his own personal guard and fully stocked with enough firepower to level the city."

  "How secure is the bunker?" questioned the General. "Are there any vulnerable entry points?"

  "Its ultra secure, sir. A ballistics proof chamber accessible from the gentlemen's club, with only one way in and one way out, which is through a heavy-gauge steel door which has a password-protected entry system. Only three people other than the Count know the password to get into that bunker."

  "Then let's round these people up immediately." snapped the General.

  "Unfortunately sir, one was Big Butch who is now dead."

  Both the General and the agent swiveled their heads and stared at Agent One accusingly who spread his arms innocently.

  "I didn’t touch him it was death by nectarine!" screeched the agent.

  "Who are the others, agent?"

  "One of the men is currently in our interrogation room and is broken inside and currently sucking on the table."

  "And the last one?"

  "He's the owner of the gentlemen's club, a man by the name of Horatio Shitzkicker, who's a loyal advisor to the Count."

  "Then he is our next target," said the General grimly. "We get to him, extract the password, mount an attack on the bunker and take the Count out for good."

  "Sir, we must assume the Count knows something. His main henchmen are missing so he'll be on guard and very dangerous. May I add that I strongly feel that Agent One and I should personally scope out of the gentlemen's club and reluctantly take some petty cash with us to blend in as paying customers."

  "Dirty little hovels," said Agent One grimacing theatrically. "But sometimes in criminal justice you have to do things you don’t want to do."

  "Corruption and filth," remarked Agent Two in disgust. "It'll be a personal low-point in my career."

  "It cheapens me sir, it really does." added the other agent.

  "Enough!" roared the General with spittle flying from his lips.

  He swiveled on his heels and paced up and down the room for several moments stroking his moustache and nodding his head thoughtfully then he looked back up at the agents with a glint in his eye.

  "You're right, agents. This is dangerous work, but this time you won't be alone."

  "Sir?" the agents said in unison.

  "It's time a new hero joined the team, a crime fighter that struck fear into the criminal underworld many years ago, a respected hero with years of training who has sat back while the criminals have struck terror into the streets of London, a hero who has stopped every top villain out there and remains a symbol of hope for the citizens of this great city. He needs to come out once again."

  "I really don’t like the sound of this." muttered Agent One.

  "Who are you talking about, sir?" asked the other agent mystified.

  The General strode over to them and planted his hands on his hips and said, "It's time for the return of the White Dolphin."

  Both agents shuddered.

  "Are you okay, Agent One?"

  "A little knee-stiffness sir, can I stop bending now?"

  Chapter Twenty

  The stakeout

  "Is this the right location?" asked Agent One covertly peering through his binoculars at the building situated on the opposite side of the main road.

  "GPS says we're right on top of it." replied the General, gazing at the device on his lap then craning his neck around the agent and looking out through the car window.

  "Are you sure the coordinates are right, sir?" queried the agent lowering the binoculars and carefully scanning the building.

  "Co-ordinates are good, agent."

  Agent One stared at the entrance to the gentlemen's club then glanced back at Agent Two in the back seat of the car.

  "Here, pass them to me."

  The agent passed over the binoculars to Agent Two who leaned forward in his seat and raised them to his eyes.

  "I thought it was called Platinum Secret?" he mumbled focusing on the sign above the entrance door. "That sign says Electric Pink."

  "I heard the club had changed its name," mumbled the General shiftily. "I think the new name's good. Clubs in London do it all the time."

  Agent One squinted through the eyepiece, looked briefly at the sign once again then handed the binoculars back.

  "That’s not a gentlemen's bar is it, sir?" he asked after a few minutes silence.

  "Well, it's full of gentlemen agent, and I use the term gentle loosely."

  "Sir, unless there's something wrong with this optical instrument, I've just seen a shirtless man entering the building wearing tight leather shorts and a pink feather boa around his neck."

  "Look! Look!" cried Agent Two stabbing a finger at the car window. "There's another shirtless man with nipple chains and wearing orange Speedos."

  "Technically agents…it's more like an LGBT drinking establishment than a gentlemen's bar with primarily homosexual clientele."

  "So it's not just a name change in as much as a brand change, sir?"

  "Yes, but don’t let that interfere with your mission objective, Agent One."

  "Oh, I can assure you nothing will be interfering with me, sir."

  "I've heard it’s a dance club experience," said the General crossing his arms defensively. "They play some killer tracks you know, Lady Gaga, Kylie Minogue and Beyonce and the like."

  "Heard from whom, sir?"

  "People," he replied uncomfortably. "Now focus, agents. Your mission is to get into that building, find Horatio Shi
tzkicker and get me that password."

  "I think we need to abort until we come up with another plan, sir," commented Agent Two. "We'll stand out like a sore thumb in there and our cover will be blown."

  "It's imperative you don’t get blown in there, agents." snapped the General.

  "Most definitely abort the mission." agreed both agents nodding their heads simultaneously.

  "Am I sensing dissent in the ranks, agents?" asked the General with his eyes flashing angrily. "Who is the authority in this company?"

  "You, sir." they mumbled.

  "Who gives out the orders around here?"

  "You do, sir."

  "And who are my employees?"

  "We are sir." they muttered.

  "Good, I'm glad we re-established the facts, agents."

  "Just a minor observations sir, but the definition of employ is to give work to someone and pay them with a wage for it." remarked Agent One.

  The General blinked a couple of times and stared at the agents in silence for a very long time.

  "Have we quite finished?" he asked.

  "Sir."

  "Excellent, then we can get back to the target. Now, as agents of R.A.S.H you should be masters of disguise and a good agent can blend into any surrounding and adapt to any situation. That building over my shoulder is enemy lines and the only thing standing before us and the Count is the owner of that establishment and the password. Get in there and get it done, maybe gay yourself up a little to blend in. That's an order."

  "Did you just say what I think you just said?" gasped Agent Two.

  "Perhaps you’ll discover talents you didn’t know you had." said the General shrugging his shoulders.

  "That's not in my job description." muttered Agent One.

  The General delved into his pocket and then stuffed some cash into the hand of the agent.

  "A little something from petty cash," he said with a wink. "Remember, it is considered polite to put money in their leather pants."

  Agent One wiped his hand and didn’t hide the disgust on his face as he did so.

  "Problem, agent?" asked the General raising his eyebrows questioningly.