"How about I tell a joke?" asked the agent.
"No jokes," whispered Susan sinking into her chair a little more. "Bad idea."
"It'll take away some of the tension in the car. Okay, so what's black and sits at the top of the stairs?"
Captain Fanspastic began rocking back and forth in his wheelchair with his fists clenched and eyes bulging.
"A quadriplegic after a house fire!" said the agent bursting into laughter.
"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" screamed the old man.
"I think he's warming to me," said Agent One turning to Susan. "Do you think?"
Chapter Twelve
Big Butch
Agent One watched on in disgust as Captain Fanspastic squirmed and twisted his body in his wheelchair, not making a sound but with a pre-occupied yet content expression on his face.
"He's doing it again." pointed out the agent to Susan who was walking a few yards upwind of them.
"Stop moaning," she said turning and looking over her shoulder down the street. "Just keep pushing him because we're nearly there according to the GPS tracker."
The agent grimaced as the old man pushed down with his hands on the arm rests of the wheelchair, lifted himself up slightly then slammed his backside back down.
"Have you quite finished?"
"Just spreading the love, agent." said Captain Fanspastic cheerfully.
"You're a sick old man and I hope you get an infection." muttered Agent One shoving the wheelchair.
The old man cackled gleefully as he jumped up and down in his seat spreading the mess in his soiled trousers as the agent pushed him down the pavement towards their destination.
"I thought you were meant to be the smartest brain on the planet?" asked Agent One. "Because what you're doing is pretty dumb if you think about it. Someone has to clean you up remember?"
"I have the highest IQ score on the planet," insisted Captain Fanspastic proudly. "On my last intelligence quotient and psychometric tests I scored an IQ of 198 and I had a bad head-cold that day. You are positively a Neanderthal compared to me."
"Well, if you are the smartest man on the planet, why do you take great enjoyment out of self defecation and demeaning yourself?"
"How ironic that you're self-deprecating about self-defecating," said the old man snootily. "To intentionally shit ones pants is the ultimate act of humoring my situation, plus it feels all squidgy around my gonads."
"I hate you!" hissed Agent One giving the wheelchair a hard push and then simply watched as Captain Fanspastic was propelled forward down the pavement scattering oncoming pedestrians in his path.
"Careful, you could've pushed him into oncoming traffic!" yelled Susan grabbing the handlebars of the wheelchair.
"The thought of a collision with a vehicle during wheelchair propulsion never crossed my mind." replied the agent smiling cruelly as he caught up.
"It appears we're here." called out the old man staring up at a shop front with a sign which read 'Big Butch's Fresh fruit 'n' veg'.
"Right team, let's gather around and get our aliases sorted before we enter," said Agent One in an authoritative voice as they huddled together on the side of the street. "Don’t get up, Captain Fanspastic."
"If you were on fire and I had water, I'd drink it." spat the old man.
"Okay, here goes. You Susan are my wife. We have been happily married for a number of years. You are a highly-sexed individual who finds her husband highly attractive because of his sheer magnetism and good looks, so there should be plenty of random touching. Remember this is role play and we can't give our real identities away before we get to the weapons so if we need to engage in any sexual practices to get into character before we proceed then I'm willing to help you out."
"Okay," said Susan with determination. "I can pull off pretending to be a slutty wife."
"Just out of curiosity Susan, do you need to get into character first?"
"No, no I'm good to go." she replied adamantly.
"Are you sure, this is a high-level mission and it might help you get into your character's head?" insisted the agent.
"I can handle this." insisted Susan.
Looking disappointed Agent One then turned and looked down at Captain Fanspastic with his dissatisfaction turning to revulsion.
"What's my alias?" rasped the old man eagerly.
"You can be the vile, filthy disgusting homeless old creature, which basically means you're already in character, that we plucked off the streets to give you some fresh fruit and vegetables as a random act of kindness."
"I can be vile, filthy and disgusting. What about you?"
Agent One tilted his head and looked skyward dramatically with his hands planted on his hips and said, "I will be Lieutenant-general Kris Maddox, a former Apache pilot and Navy Royal Marine Commando having recently withdrawn from Iraq and having served with distinction on the front line in Afghanistan. Although I don’t like to brag about it, my career highlight is shooting al-Qaeda leader, Osama Bin Laden in 2011. After being awarded an MBE by the Queen it was decided after public pressure to rename The Victoria Cross to the Kris Cross, so that it would forever be linked with my acts of valor and bravery on the field of battle. Having fought for my country I now dedicate myself to running an emergency hostel in London helping the needy and hungry with 'soup runs' and warm blankets, but my long-term vision is to help build orphanages for disadvantaged children in Africa."
Susan and Captain Fanspastic stared at the agent with their mouths open and unblinking.
"What?" asked Agent One looking puzzled.
"You've thought about this a lot haven’t you?" asked Susan.
"Why? Do you think the storyline is too far-fetched?"
"Not at all, Captain America," said the old man sarcastically. "Now, are you ready because it feels like there's a lot of shifting down in my bowels?"
"Let's do this but keep alert. When the moment strikes I'll take him down." muttered the agent turning and reaching for the door to the shop.
"Ahem!" yelled Captain Fanspastic clearing his throat in annoyance.
"What now?" hissed Agent One turning back towards the old man.
"I left my levitating wheelchair back at home so unless you want me to abandon my chair and drag my frail, useless body up that step then perhaps you could help me?"
Muttering under his breath the agent grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, reversed him then tilted him back and maneuvered him over the step as Susan opened the door to the shop.
"That was very kind of you, Mr Maddox." said Captain Fanspastic sarcastically as they stepped into the shop floor.
"I hope your organs fail you before we leave this building," whispered the agent. "Now switch your chair on electric, you saggy faced old hobo."
With a fake smile on his face Agent One looked up and stared around the shop at the beautiful array of fresh fruits and vegetables on the aisles and at the customers picking at the produce.
"We're in the enemies' lair now, old man. What I want you to do is look hungry and miserable."
Captain Fanspastic looked up at the agent through eyes of burning hatred.
"Perfect!" said Agent One. "Now follow me."
The three of them slowly made their way to the shop counter where a huge, burly man with a shaven head and full arm tattoos was just finishing up serving a customer and placing the money in the till.
"Uh…hi, we're…uhm…looking for some fruit and vegetables." stammered the agent looking at the man's thick, corded neck muscles nervously.
"Good luck taking him down, Captain Obvious." mumbled Captain Fanspastic.
"Well you've come to the right place," replied the man in a deep voice. "I'm Big Butch and this is my shop. I've got top quality produce at reasonable prices, all British grown and locally sourced, sir."
"Oh please, don’t call me sir, call me Lieutenant-general Kris Maddox."
"Are you ex-special forces?" asked Big Butch quizzically.
"Navy Royal Marine
Commando." replied Agent One, straightening himself up to his full height before punching the air and adding. "Hoo-ah!"
"Really? Which regiment?"
"Erm…Team 6." said the agent swallowing hard.
"No shit - I served in Team 6 based at Bickleigh Barracks near Plymouth. What a coincidence." cried Big Butch in disbelief.
"An amazing, extraordinary coincidence, let me tell you."
"Iraq was tough." said Big Butch with his voice thick with emotion.
"So tough." agreed the agent.
They faced each other in silence nodding their heads and looking into the distance for a few moments.
"What years did you serve?"
"Its top secret, still classified. Sorry." replied Agent One winching apologetically.
"I understand. So what can I get you, Kris?"
"My wife and I are looking for some five-a-day for our hungry old friend and I hear you have the finest high class fruit and vegetables in London."
Big Butch leaned over the counter and looked down at Captain Fanspastic, sniffed the air and then held his nose.
"Oh my," he said. "Your friend may have…may have…"
"Shit himself. We know. He does that an awful lot. So can you knock us up a fruit and veg box?"
"Sure can, Kris. Fruit and veg boxes are available in three sizes with an organic section if you'd like. I've just got a fresh batch of nectarines and apricots in. What'd you like?" he asked with a pleasant smile.
"You decide, Butch. Surprise us with your selection. Do you have anything a little more……exotic out back?"
The smile instantly vanished on the face of Big Butch and his features hardened.
"There's nothing out back!" he said gruffly.
"Riiiggghhhttt…say, you wouldn’t have a toilet area back there that I could clean up my old friend, would you?"
"You can't go out back," snapped Big Butch firmly. "Now I'll just go make you up a box while the shops not too busy. You three just stay here and no snooping."
With a suspicious glance at all of them he turned his back, gave another look over his shoulder at them and then vanished into the back storeroom. Agent One quickly scanned the shop and hurried over to an elderly hunched woman who was stood in the fruit aisle squeezing a melon.
"Uhm…hello." said the agent tapping her on the shoulder.
"I'm not sure if it's ripe, my dear," she answered in a weak, feeble crackling voice. "You've got to smell them. When they're fragrant they're ripe, but I don’t touch them if they have soft patches."
"It's on the house." hissed Agent One guiding her quickly towards the shop exit.
"But I'm quite partial to grapefruit too!" she croaked. "Can I just have a look at them?"
"Sorry, shops closing."
"But-"
He opened the door, planted his foot on her backside and kicked her out into the street before turning the sign around on the shop door to 'closed' and locking it.
"Agent One!" gasped Susan in horror.
"She's younger than she looks," replied the agent spinning around. "Now it's time to take Big Butch down. Assume attack positions."
Captain Fanspastic held out his weakly clenched fists poised and ready for action.
"What are you doing?" asked Agent One with a frown.
"My position is assumed." said the old man.
Shaking his head the agent turned to Susan and said, "Time to turn on the sluttiness. I'll go hide outside the storeroom, when Bib Butch re-appears you distract him and I'll do the rest. Got it?"
"Got it." she said.
"What do you want me to do?" cried Captain Fanspastic.
"Why don’t you turn off your emergency oxygen supply?" offered Agent One.
"But I could die!"
"You really are the smartest man on the planet, aren’t you?"
"I really, really, really hate you."
Without another word the agent ran over to the counter, vaulted it and ducked out of view by the side of the storeroom door as Susan and Captain Fanspastic waited.
A few minutes later the huge figure of Big Butch walked out of the storeroom holding a large fruit and veg box in his brawny arms. His eyes scanned the two customers then darted around the store.
"Where's the other guy?" he growled.
"Can you tell me how much these large bananas are?" asked Susan running her hand up and down the length of the fruit.
Big Butch stared at her as if mesmerized, when suddenly Agent One rose up behind him and slammed a pineapple down on his thick skull. His eyes glazed over and he dropped the fruit and veg box and sank to the ground silently.
"You killed him with a tropical fruit?" queried Captain Fanspastic.
"He's just unconscious," said the agent standing there and looking down at the man sprawled on the floor. "Right, let's go secure the weapons and call it in. Captain, I'll need you for this. You have a photographic memory, right? I want you to categorize all the weaponry we find back there, understand?"
"I have the ability to perfectly recall anything. Numbers, objects, insults. Oh, I have a very, very long memory."
Just then Big Butch groaned and struggled to his feet groggily making the agent jump back. He opened his mouth to speak but slipped on a fallen nectarine, banged his head on the counter and sank back to the floor wordlessly.
"You saw that!" cried Agent One raising a finger and pointing at the counter. "You're all witnesses; I didn’t lay one finger on him."
"Now I think he's dead." muttered Captain Fanspastic.
The agent gingerly prodded Big Butch with his toe until he was satisfied.
"Let's go get us some weapons."
Chapter Thirteen
Doctor Deathrape
Agent Two walked slowly and deliberately past the man wearing the dark glasses who was sat on the park bench reading the newspaper. He carried on walking up the path for a few more steps then spun around and walked back towards the seated man and lingered over his shoulder for a moment.
"Psssst! The eagle flies at midnight." hissed Agent Two in a sly, secretive manner behind a cupped hand.
The man looked up, ruffled his paper in irritation and resumed reading as the agent walked off in the other direction. After a few more steps he turned around and side-stepped next to the park bench.
"Ca-caw! Ca-caw." yelled the agent flapping his arms.
Sighing loudly the man folded his paper and placed it onto his lap before looking up at him with a scowl on his face.
"Did I get the secret meeting code right?" asked the agent.
"Please don’t do that again," said the man in a bristly voice. "Now take a seat."
Agent Two dutifully sat down next to the man and looked at him. He had neat black hair that was combed perfectly and a thin, pock-marked face but his eyes were hidden by the glasses he wore.
"Your associate set up a meeting to discuss…certain things." said the man quietly.
"I'm here to talk business." replied the agent cocking an imaginary gun with his hand and pulling the trigger.
"Please don’t do that either."
"Are you Doctor Deathrape?"
"I am Doctor Seymour Deathrape," agreed the man. "Just so you know, right at this moment in time I have a have a sniper with his rifle aimed at the back of your head."
Licking his lips nervously Agent Two looked around but couldn’t see the rifleman.
"Relax it's for my own safety."
"I too have my own specialized security team," cried the agent glancing around to locate the triplets and Julie who were queuing impatiently at an ice-cream van in the distance. "They are highly specialized in being inconspicuous."
"Are we here to talk business, or are you wasting my time?" said Doctor Deathrape in a cold voice.
"Is that your real name?" queried Agent Two. "I bet you were bullied a lot at school weren’t you?"
The man jerked as if stung and suddenly his bottom lip quivered and tears welled up in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" asked the ag
ent laying a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.
"I…I…could never understand why the other kids at school made fun of me," wailed Doctor Deathrape with his head bowed. "It was done on a daily basis and they had no anti-bullying policy back then."
"Some children are mean," whispered Agent Two in a soothing voice. "For me, good responsible parenting is the key."
"There were five hundred other children in my school and they chose me!" he cried.
"Name-calling is serious, Doctor. I can see you've been affected by this."
"It led to other more traumatic events in my life," sobbed the man. "I started avoiding people and hanging out in graveyards so I could be on my own where people wouldn’t pick on me. Then when I left school I got a job in a morgue as an assistant, and that's when it begun."
"When what begun?"
"Then…then…I started to have sexual intercourse with the dead bodies in the morgue. Does that make me a bad person?"
"Perfectly normal, everyone does it." said the agent with a wide trustworthy smile.
"Do you do it?" asked the Doctor wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"What?"
"Make love to corpses."
Agent Two gave the man a look of deep thought then said, "Not recently. I can't quite remember the last time I raped the cold decomposing human remains of a dead body within a morgue. May I also say what a tragic coincidence that the very surname that sent you spiraling into depression and loneliness also drove you to Necrophilia."
"It's perverse, don't you think?"
"Terribly so." agreed the agent adding a little bit of space between him and the man on the park bench.
"But now I'm involved in the illegal arms trade and my life is back on track." said Doctor Deathrape happily.
"Presumably you've stopped messing around with dead people?" questioned Agent Two.
"I've tried to give up before – it didn't work! It's a weakness in me. So tell me, who do you work for?"
"Uhm…why do you want to know?"
"My boss likes to know who he's dealing with. So who wants to order some weapons?"
Agent Two thought quickly and blurted out the first name that came to mind.
R.A.S.H (Rent.A.Super.Hero) (Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent Book 2) Page 5
