"It's your skin, sir. It feels like raw egg whites."
"A genetic gift, now get out there and take Horatio down and take him down hard."
"What does that even mean, sir?"
"I have no idea, agent. Let me just check the rest of the team are in position."
He reached down the side of the car, pulled out a walkie-talkie and switched it on then said, "Agents are you there, over?"
"Agent Susan in location and all escape routes are covered, sir." her voice cackled back.
"Roger that." replied the General.
"She sounds even sexier though a walkie-talkie." whispered Agent Two.
"Agent Fanspastic ready for pursuit, sir." spat the tinny-robotic voice of the old man.
"Roger."
"Agent Julie…uhm…what was I meant to do again, sir?"
"Swing bat at escaping man, Agent Julie." said the General wearily.
"Got it."
Then there was static on the walkie-talkie and he waited for a few seconds then lifted it to his lips once again.
"Agent Multiple-boy, please respond over."
But there was no response.
"We may have a problem!" cried the General into the speaker. "All agents scramble to the location of Multiple-boy, possible agents down. Now! Now! Now!"
Suddenly the walkie-talkie sparked into life and the sound of labored heavy breathing hissed through the portable communicator.
"I am your father, Luke." said the voice.
Then there was a burst of giggles from the other end.
"Fall back, agents," said the General with a heavy sigh. "All agents are accounted for and in positions. Now listen up everyone, it's time to move to Defcon Five."
"Isn't that the lowest state of readiness?" interrupted Agent One with a bemused look on his face.
"No it isn’t, it's the highest." defended the General.
"Pretty sure it's the lowest, sir. Defcon One is maximum readiness."
The General massaged his temples for a moment then sighed once again before speaking back into the walkie-talkie.
"Now listen up everyone, it's time to move to Defcon One. Agent One and Agent Two will shortly be entering the club."
Just then through the speaker came the sounds of Captain Fanspastic laughing hysterically.
"I hate that man." muttered Agent Two.
"Everyone be on the ready, over."
"It's reassuring to know that if Horatio does escape us we have a paraplegic, three irritatingly immature children dressed in superhero costumes, a bat wielding sociopath named Julie and a woman as our last line of attack." remarked Agent One cheerfully.
"You'll have me too, agents. Now I need get into costume."
"There's room in the back, sir."
"A true superhero doesn’t get changed in the back of a vehicle, agent," replied the General opening the car door and gazing at the enclosed phone booth on the other side of the road. "That's where I'll go change."
"Be careful sir, I've just seen a tramp piss in that phone box."
Chapter Twenty One
Electric Pink
"You're walking funny, why are you walking funny?" hissed Agent One.
"I don’t know!" replied Agent Two gritting his teeth through a fake smile as they both walked towards the entrance to Electric Pink.
"Stop wiggling!" snapped Agent One.
Suddenly he felt something clammy and warm in his hand and looked down in horror at Agent Two's hand in his.
"What are you doing?" he gasped.
"Looking the part, now smile because the bouncer's watching us."
The huge man blocking the door stood with his arms crossed over his muscular chest raking his eyes over the approaching agents.
"He's very buff, don’t you think?" whispered Agent Two.
"I'm sorry agent; do you want to kiss him?
"I'm just saying." he replied huffily.
As they neared the bouncer narrowed his eyes suspiciously, scrutinizing them carefully with a deep scowl on his face.
"You boys going to give me any trouble tonight?" growled the bouncer stabbing a finger at them.
"Oh stop it, you horndog!" screeched Agent Two slapping the bouncers hand away playfully. "We're just here for some high-camp and minciness."
Agent One groaned and then winched at the elbow in his ribs.
"Are you on the guest-list?" he said in a gruff, surly voice. "It's a private party."
"Can I just say you look fabulous darling," purred Agent Two running a hand over the man's tight black top. "Look at your muscles all rippling and ready to burst."
The bouncer gave a cocky smile and flexed his biceps to impress.
"I've been working out a lot recently." he said tensing with a grunt.
"I can tell, you’re smoking hot," teased the agent happily looking across at Agent One. "Isn't that right, sweet pea?"
"Sure." he grunted.
"Oh, that's not nearly gay enough, try harder!"
"Massively homoerotic," answered Agent One uncomfortably. "I have a twinge."
"So are you going to let us inside?" asked Agent Two sweetly fluttering his eyelids and flashing a smile.
"You boys look a little overdressed."
"We'll be no trouble," said the agent throwing him a wink. "We just want to dance and slow-grind, want to join us big boy?"
Suddenly Agent Two slowly turned away from Agent Two and began dancing with his back to him.
"What are young doing?" asked his colleague nervously.
Agent Two grabbed his hands and placed them onto his hips from behind and began moving his hips in a circular motion. Gradually he began to lower himself to the ground and put his hands on his knees leaning forward with his backside in the air brushing it up against Agent One.
"You boys have fun tonight." said the bouncer stepping to the side and allowing the agents to step into the club.
"Just kill me now." muttered Agent One miserably.
"We got in didn’t we? Can I just say that you gripped my hips too firmly back there?"
"Don’t talk to me, agent."
Chapter Twenty Two
Behind enemy lines
Agent One stared at Agent Two as he sipped his Pomegranate Martini whilst humming along to the beat on the dance floor.
“Something I should know, agent?” he asked.
“I’m just trying to blend in.”
“I think you've well and truly blended,” answered Agent One. “In fact, I don’t think you could come across as any gayer!”
“Do you think my eyebrows need plucking?”
“I stand corrected," the agent mumbled. "Say, shouldn’t we get around to some work?"
"I am working." replied Agent Two matter-of-factly.
"Really?"
"I'm carrying out tactical surveillance as we speak, scoping out potential threats, taking in the surroundings and trying to identify the target’s location. I'm just giving the appearance that I'm enjoying myself and watching other people dance when in reality my mind is totally focused on the mission."
Agent One stared with a frown at the agent who was nodding his head rhythmically with the music and delicately taking a small mouthful of his drink.
"Really?" he asked again.
"Very convincing, aren’t I?"
"A little too convincing!" remarked Agent One.
"Shhhh…," hissed Agent Two tilting his head to the side and listening intently.
"What is it? What have you heard?" whispered his colleague glancing around the room quickly and excitedly.
"Are they….are they playing Backstreet Boys?"
"Tactical surveillance?" queried Agent One raising his eyebrows.
"Know your enemy." replied Agent Two tapping his head while his leg fidgeting to the sound of the music.
"But you're mouthing the words to the song, I can see it!" cried the agent flapping his arms in exasperation.
"All part of the deception, Agent One."
"Now you're fist
-pumping and biting your lip to the track!"
Suddenly a tall, dark haired man wearing cheekless trousers with his naked torso covered in shiny glitter touched Agent One's arm gently and said, "Do you want to dance, sweetheart?"
"Frankly, I'd rather take a cheese-grater to my scrotum sack and dangle them in a bowl of vinegar. But thanks anyway." he answered politely.
The stranger opened his mouth to say something else but Agent One cut him off and said, "That would be a no, closely followed by a never."
"So rude!" cried the man giving him a catty look.
"My friend doesn’t like Backstreet Boys, maybe later though." interrupted Agent Two with a soothing smile.
"Well honey, I'll be dancing in that booth around there whenever you're ready." he said before turning and walking away with one final glance over his shoulder at them.
"He was only trying to be friendly," snapped Agent Two. "I think it says a lot about you, and not in a good way, when you treat people like that."
"Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we go stop an illegal arms dealer?" replied Agent One curtly. "And by the way you totally checked out that guy's ass."
"Okay, I have a plan but I need you to create a distraction for me. You create the distraction which will attract the bouncers away so I can get into place ready to take down Horatio. He's got a private room on the second floor over my left shoulder."
Agent One slyly peeked above him and nodded his head in understanding.
"What sort of distraction?" he asked rubbing his hands together eagerly.
"This may not seem obvious to you but hear me out. That man that just approached you to dance is the diversion."
Shaking his head the agent began to protest but Agent Two cut him short with a raised finger.
"Before you have heart palpitations just listen to what I've got to say and think of our objective here. That man, who was showing his ass, is now flirting with another man over there by the booth. Go over there and start an argument with the guy who is flirting with your man, make it loud and attract attention and maybe throw in a bit of pushing and shoving. As the bouncers move in I'll make my way upstairs and get our man and the password. Does that sound good?"
Blowing out his cheeks with a sigh Agent One glanced over his shoulder at the stranger who was dancing slowly with another man wearing a cowboy hat and whispering into his ear.
"Are you going to let another man hit on your man?" whispered Agent Two persuasively.
"Can you believe he's flirting with him?" spat Agent One sounding outraged. "Why would he do that to me, the bastard?"
"You need to make a statement, if you don’t the evening is ruined."
"We had a connection." moaned Agent One with tears in his eyes.
"Go get him, go get your man!"
"I will." cried Agent One sounding outraged as he stormed away from his colleague.
With his fists clenched he strode over to the booth, planted his hands on his hips, cleared his throat noisily and began tapping the floor with his foot impatiently.
"Excuse me!" yelled the agent tapping Cowboy man on the shoulder furiously. "He's with me."
The man turned and looked down at him from underneath the brim of his hat and said, "Who is this ghastly man, David?"
"Oh no you didn’t!" shouted Agent One waving his hand in front of the man's face and clicking his fingers rapidly.
"But I just did."
The agent reached out and flicked the man's cowboy hat off his head causing gasps from the couples dancing around them.
With hushed whispers they moved out of the way forming a circle around them.
"Pick it up. That hat is made from Russian felt."
Agent One raised his leg and stood on the cowboy hat grinding his foot into the floor with a smug look on his face.
"Oh, it's on now!" screeched the man holding up his fists and waving them around. "It's definitely on now, bitch!"
Chapter Twenty Three
The takedown
Agent Two rapped his knuckles on the open door and poked his head around the frame into the room with a smile on his face.
"Mr. Shitzkicker?" he asked pleasantly.
The man sat behind the desk looked up from his phone at the sound of his voice and his face immediately fell. He was a well-built stocky man with blond hair and blue eyes and he wore a smart navy suit and a pair of designer glasses perched on his immaculately combed hair.
"Horatio Shitzkicker?" asked Agent Two raising his eyebrows questioningly.
"Ich heiße Horaz Schittekatte." snapped the man in heavily, accented German.
"Come again?" said the agent, looking puzzled.
"I am called Horaz Schittekatte you imbezil."
Looking back over his shoulder Agent Two checked that the coast was still clear then leaned casually against the door frame.
"You sound German."
"Und you sound like a Dummkopf."
"You’re a proper German, aren’t you?" said the agent grinning. "Heil, Hitler!"
"Vee don’t say that anymore you dumm Mutterficker."
"Wait, I think I know what that last word means." muttered Agent Two frowning.
"Und wer are you?" barked Horaz.
"Uhm…my name is…uhm David…David Hasselhoff."
"Wie the Hoff?"
"Yes, yes like the Hoff. So…you like the Hoff, right?" questioned Agent Two feeling some of the tension ease in the room.
"Von of dies greatest pop singers of all time," answered the German frostily. "Horaz like Hoff but Horaz does not like you."
"Ah!" replied the agent closing his mouth and feeling the tension increase in the room.
"Are you neu to Horaz?" asked Horaz drumming his fingers on the tabletop in irritation. "Because ich hate newbies. Zey are what ich call arschkriechers."
"Yes, yes I'm new, just started working for you. I've just been asked to pass you a message from a man called the Count."
"Und vot ist dis message you tell Horaz?"
"The Count said he forgot the password to the bunker and needs to get in so if you can tell me what it is I'll be on my way." said the agent scratching his head and pretending to be mystified.
"But there's ein "forgot your password?" option on die keypad?" said Horaz suspiciously.
The two men stared at each other in silence with the agent nodding his head slowly.
"Awkward," muttered Agent Two. "Very, very awkward."
"You ist a spy!" yelled Horaz. "Und you vill leck mich am arsch, hosenscheiser."
"Honestly, I'm struggling to follow this conversation. It did spark my interest briefly but I'm getting a little overwhelmed by it now and I'm pushed for time, so if you can tell me the password no-one gets hurt."
"Du think da Hoff can threaten Horaz?" the German laughed banging his fist on the table. "You ist a schweinebacke."
"Yes," said the agent defiantly. "We have you surrounded and every exit is covered by agents so tell me the password and I'm just going to walk out of here and I'm never going to see you again. May I also add the whole speaking about yourself in a third-person thing is really, really annoying."
"Horaz surrounded?"
"There you go again but yes, Horaz is surrounded."
"Und who du sie verk für?"
"We are R.A.S.H," said Agent Two proudly. "We operate under a shroud of secrecy funded by classified budgets to protect national security. Our fight is against crime to protect the public. Our agents are the finest in the country, trained for elite combat situations and the only time you will see us is if we allow you to see us and when you do you're already dead."
"You mean dis agent?" asked Horaz as two burly bouncers appeared from behind him and threw Agent One sprawling into the room.
"I've never seen him before in my life." remarked Agent Two as he was shoved hard in the back into the room.
"Idiotisch Englisch," said the German coldly. "Horaz hat ein secret panic button under die table and now you vill die."
"Can I comme
nd you on your bouncers? They're remarkably fast at identifying potential troublemakers." muttered Agent One winching as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the floor.
"May I ask what happened to the distraction?" asked Agent Two to his colleague.
"They came at me from all over like a pack of effeminate wolves." grunted Agent One. "
"Didn’t you use your agent training?"
"I couldn't fight them all off," protested the agent miserably. "It was like an army and they were hitting me with their rainbow stripe bags and strangling me with their multicolored feather boas. It was a new kind of scary to me."
"It's true," said the gruff voice of one of the bouncers behind him. "He was curled into a ball on the floor screaming for help until he blacked out."
"I have no recollection of what happened after that." shuddered Agent One.
"Can I just say for the record it's kind of pathetic being beaten up by a bunch of semi-naked men who dance to Miley Cyrus." said Agent Two unsympathetically.
"It was the hat!" the agent whimpered. "Something snapped inside him. He was like an animal and became very bendy and surprisingly strong."
"Genug! Horaz has heard enough!" roared the German standing to his feet with his eyes blazing. "Now it is time you vill die."
"Do we have to die in this place?" asked Agent Two. "I mean, people will talk if they find our bodies in here, right?"
"Take them in ze back and kill zem, schnell! schnell!"
Agent Two felt rough hands grab him from behind and he was hauled from his feet when suddenly a commanding voice rang out stopping them in their tracks.
"Let my agents go!"
"Wer goes there?" asked Horaz peering around the bouncers with a bemused look.
"It is I, the White Dolphin."
The bouncers parted and spun around and stood there dressed in costume with his legs apart, arms on hips and elbows bent was the General.
"Just what is he wearing?" whispered Agent One.
He wore a one-piece skin-tight white romper suit with arm-bands and a rubber dorsal fin attached to the back.
"He looks…he looks…like a…." stammered Agent Two.
"Superhero?" questioned the General raising an eyebrow.
"I was going to go with pillock," admitted the agent. "Say, is it a floatation and swimming aid all-in-one?"
R.A.S.H (Rent.A.Super.Hero) (Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent Book 2) Page 8
