"It's a little snug and a bit dated, but this costume is iconic in the crime fighting world." snapped the General irritably.
"Are you actually going to actually do something, sir?"
"I'm power-posing," he replied tensing his body. "Power posing can make you feel more powerful."
"Ist dat you, General?" queried the German craning his neck to get a better look.
The General shifted uncomfortably on his feet and shook his head.
"I've never been here before and I don’t know you."
"Ich know wer you are." said Horaz in a high-pitched voice and stabbing a finger in his direction. "You are gut customer. You have VIP access, have you not?"
"I don’t know what he's talking about!" snorted the General looking at the agents innocently.
"Sure, we believe you, sir." Agent Two lied.
"Vot are sie waiting für?" yelled Horaz to the bouncers angrily. "Make them dead."
In an instant the General threw a punch to the first bouncer's solar plexus winding him. As air whooshed from the man's lungs and he doubled up the General gave him a finger-jab in the eyes. Screaming out in agony the bouncer scrabbled for his eyes and as he did so the General pulled his hair in a downward direction and brought his knee up in a sickening crunch to the man's face and he fell to the ground silently in a crumpled heap.
"He's like a ballerina version of Bruce Lee." whispered Agent One in awe.
Suddenly the General ducked under a swinging punch, rolled smoothly to the side and turned to meet his second assailant.
"Vot are sie doing?" shouted the German. "Get him!"
The bouncer made to grab the General but his grasp slipped off his skin easily.
"But his skin is like warm margarine!" the bouncer cried.
Slipping, bobbing and weaving the General threw a fake left punch then followed it up with a thunderous right uppercut which took the man square on the jaw. With a groan he slumped down to one knee and the General brought his arm around the man's neck and put his other hand on the back of his head in a choke hold until the bouncer went limp. Lowering him gently he planted a foot onto his back and smiled heroically at the German and the two agents who were staring back in amazement with their mouths open.
"Bitte! Bitte!" said Horaz holding his hands up in surrender.
"The password?" growled the General menacingly.
"Ze password iz…..'password'"
"Really?" asked Agent Two. "That’s a terrible password. Did he mix it up with any capitals?
"Nein."
"Is it all in lowercase?"
"Ja." said Horaz unhappily.
"Password protocols are a little sloppy around her," commented Agent One. "Couldn’t the Count have afforded to buy a password strength checker? I bet you have security breaches all the time, don't you?"
"Ja." repeated Horaz unhappily.
The General strode forward and reached behind his back and pulled out a pair of furry handcuffs which he tossed to Agent One.
"Cuff him." he ordered.
"Are these yours, sir?" asked the agent gingerly picking them up and examining them.
"Don’t be ridiculous, agent."
"But they are personalized to you, sir."
Ignoring him the General stood before Horaz and looked him up and down.
"Any final words?"
"Your membership iz revoked!" spat the German.
Chapter Twenty Four
The Count
"So, what's the plan, sir?" whispered Agent One as they huddled around the bunker door.
The General's finger hovered over the keypad to the bunker door and he turned to both agents with a slight crease furrowed on his brow.
"What do you mean, Agent One?"
"Well, from a raiding perspective one might suspect that a paranoid person who handles heavy artillery and bombs may himself be armed and dangerous, so I was just wondering what our tactics are."
"You've been trained for this, agents through one of the most rigorous and selective training programs in the country. We enter using our stealth tactics and disarm the Count using our techniques learned in our agent training."
"Stealth tactics, sir?" muttered Agent Two scratching his head with a puzzled look on his face. "That's a new one to me."
"Tell me you read the 'ghost infiltration' training manual I gave you?" asked the General with a disbelieving expression.
"It was incredibly dull sir, but I liked the front cover." answered the agent with a winch.
"You didn’t read the section on shadow-skulking?"
"I did recall I folded the page in the top corner as a bookmark, sir."
"Never mind, agents. I'll lead from the front and you two bring up the rear. When we enter the bunker quickly identify the threats and neutralize them."
"In your opinion what would be the best way to do that, sir?" asked Agent One.
"Get close enough use hand-to-hand combat." snapped the General.
Both agents looked at each other a little unsure and began fidgeting from foot-to-foot nervously.
"Oh come on, agents! Tell me you read the 'art of guerrilla-fighting and close hand combat' training manual I gave you?"
"Of course, sir." lied Agent Two.
The General shook his head in annoyance then turned back to the keypad muttering words under his breath.
"But hypothetically speaking sir, how would one disarm someone who is waving a gun in their face?" questioned Agent One.
"Stealth tactics!" hissed the General over his shoulder. "They'll never see us coming. I cannot emphasize the importance of using enhanced stealth capabilities in there. Failure is not an option. We get in, get the job done and get out hopefully with only minimal losses."
"Brilliant plan, sir but when you say minimal losses can I suggest we use Captain Fanspastic as a token casualty. We could just wheel him right in there as a decoy distraction while we move into position. He's just about dead anyway!"
"The ventilation and humidity down there would play havoc with the Captain's sinuses." replied the General shaking his head.
"I don’t really think that's a justifiable excuse to escape serving ones country, sir."
"Hmmmm…maybe you're right, agent," grumbled the General thoughtfully. "Go fetch the Captain and I'll update the 'Imminent danger pay' list when I get back to HQ."
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" cried Agent One holding up his hands. "We get danger pay?"
"Of course, agent, it's a special allowance as recognition for entering dangerous situations."
"Just remind me, how much is my life worth again, sir?"
"Thirty-five percent."
"I do have a bank overdraft I want to clear." murmured Agent One glancing at Agent Two.
"Let's do this!" replied his colleague with grim determination.
The General grunted then turned back to the keypad then cast a quick angry glance over his shoulder.
"And stop touching my dorsal fin!" he snapped.
"But it's so realistic, sir." mumbled Agent Two pulling his hand back.
He keyed in the password and the heavy-gauge steel door unlocked, but he didn’t open it and turned back to the agents.
"I'm just going to offer you both some final words before we enter agents."
Sensing the motivational and inspirational words that would come from their General both agents stood to attention listening intently.
"Whatever happens in there, if there are any photo opportunities at the end, then I'm the face of the company, understood?"
"Sir." answered both agents in unison.
Nodding his head the General swung the door open slowly which led to some concrete steps going down.
"After you, agents."
"You go first, sir. Remember we'll bring up the rear."
The General muttered something then quietly crept down the stairs followed by the two agents.
At the bottom there was a long, narrow hallway illuminated by fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling with another d
oor located at the end of the corridor. Suddenly without warning the General dropped to his knees and executed a perfect Commando roll before rolling smoothly back to his feet.
"Still got it!" said the General punching the air in delight.
"He's like a miniature Chuck Norris." whispered Agent One in awe.
Padding silently to the end of the hall the General motioned for the agents to quickly move to each side of the door. They crouched at the entrance and the General wiggled his fingers in the air and pointed at the door then flashed a hand movement, palm down sweeping from side to side.
"I have absolutely no idea what that means." muttered Agent Two.
The General rolled his eyes then threw them both a middle-finger.
"I know exactly what that means."
He signaled the agents to be quiet then reached up and grabbed the handle to the door.
"Stealth." whispered Agent One in understanding.
Then without warning the General surged to his feet and burst through the door into the room screaming loudly.
Inside a man shrieked in fear and the agents scrambled after him. Huddled behind the screen of a laptop at a desk was a small bespectacled man wearing an inexpensive rumpled suit and a tin foil hat on his head. He was in his mid-fifties and had a pasty unshaven face and his eyes darted between the three of them nervously.
"Who are you?" he cried.
"Hold on just one second!" said Agent Two pausing him with a raised hand before turning to the General with raised eyebrows. "Stealth tactics you said? You got a little carried away, perhaps?"
"Sorry, I got overly excited and caught up in the moment," replied the General shrugging his shoulders apologetically. "It's been awhile since I was out in the field."
"Who are you people?" yelled the Count shrinking back further behind the laptop screen.
As he did so the tin foil hat slipped from his head and the Count scrabbled for it quickly and perched it back onto his head.
"They're scanning me right now," he whimpered. "My brain isn’t shielded anymore. They have obtained my ultra-secure password and accessed my top secret impenetrable hidden bunker."
"He's kind of weedy looking." muttered Agent One crossing his arms and staring at the Count.
"They have found me! They know where I am!" gasped the Count.
"Your days of selling in the arms trade are over. We're taking you in Count Viscount," said the General in a commanding voice. "We have your associates and enough evidence to put you behind bars for a very long time."
"You have my associates?"
"Well, two of them. We have Horaz Schittekatte and Doctor Deathrape in custody."
"What of Big Butch?" questioned the Count.
"Uhm…unfortunately Big Butch met an unfortunate end during a takedown operation." answered the General.
All heads in the room swiveled and stared at Agent One accusingly, who spread his arms innocently.
"I didn’t touch him it was death by nectarine!" screeched the agent.
"Dead or alive, you're coming with us!"
"If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine." hissed the Count defiantly.
"Steady on, Count Obi-Wan," said Agent Two, "There are three of us and only you in this room."
"But I have something you do not!"
"Would that be the ability to come up with a password that's original and yet still easy to remember?" queried the agent with a smirk.
"No!" yelled the Count pulling out a hand grenade and waving it around. "It's this. Do you know what this is? It's called a Mills bomb. It was the first modern fragmentation grenade used by British Forces and was used extensively during World War One and remained in use during World War Two. This grenade has a central spring-loaded firing-pin and spring-loaded lever locked by a pin and reports say that the British Army used over thirty-three million of these devices during the wars until it was replaced and re-modernized. It was simple, but devastatingly effective and probably the most dominant weapon until it was replaced. Then, just like that it was tossed to the scrapheap, discarded and not wanted anymore. All alone and wondering why it was so lonely with no friends to call his own."
Agent One cleared his throat and said, "Is this story going somewhere?"
The Count blinked rapidly as if waking from a daze then he snarled.
"Yes, one more move and I'll pull the triggering pin and we'll all die down here."
The agents backed up a couple of steps, licking their lips nervously and looked to the General.
"General, there's the small matter of an incendiary bomb held by a lunatic that we need to address quickly." whispered Agent One.
"We cannot let the danger associated with a hand grenade deter us from completing our mission, agent." ordered the General sternly.
"I thought you might say that." muttered Agent One miserably.
"Just out of curiosity Count, how many seconds would someone have to escape before the bomb exploded?" queried Agent Two politely.
"Four seconds." answered the Count with his fingers poised over the pin.
"Excellent, thanks for that!"
"You're quite a dangerous man, aren't you Count?" said the General narrowing his eyes menacingly. "You smuggle weapons and ammunition to the highest bidder on the black market, weapons that fall into the hands of criminal's intent on endangering life. We can't let you go and you will answer the arms trafficking charges brought against you and you will face justice. This operation will be shut down."
"You don’t know quite how dangerous I am, General." whispered the Count with a smirk on his face.
Suddenly they heard the audible click of guns being cocked behind them and slowly the three of them raised their hands in surrender.
"The ambushers have been ambushed," cackled the Count with mirth. "Such poetic justice, don’t you think?"
Agent One felt the barrel of a gun press firmly against the back of his head and he swallowed hard.
"Does a gunshot to the back of the head or a grenade to face constitute as danger pay, sir?" asked Agent Two nervously.
"I may struggle checking out specific conditions on the account of our imminent deaths by hostile fire, agent." replied the General grimly.
"Did you really think I would be down here without backup?" hissed the Count.
The General slowly and deliberately lowered his hands and smiled.
"What are you doing?" yelled the Count. "Put your hands up!"
"Did you really think we'd be down here without backup?" said the General calmly.
Then there was the sound of multiple guns being cocked and the agents turned to see Julie, Susan, the triplets and Captain Fanspastic each with guns pointed at the three men behind them.
"That's a rather pleasant turnaround of events." commented Agent One smiling.
"I would say the ambushers that had ambushed the ambushers have now been ambushed. Is that right?" asked Agent Two frowning deeply.
"We are at an impasse then," said the Count coldly. "You have guns pointed at my men, my men have guns pointed at your men, and I have a grenade which may I also add has a blast radius of fifteen meters."
"This could get messy, sir," remarked Agent One looking over his shoulder uneasily. "Can I just say sir, I'm not entirely comfortable with the fact that Captain Fanspastic has a gun and I have my back turned toward him?"
"He's a R.A.S.H agent and he's got your back, Agent One."
"Can I shoot him once in the leg?" asked the old man.
"Wait, hold on! How did you get down the stairs in your wheelchair?" cried the agent.
"There was a lift, jackass!"
"Whilst we're keeping the conversation flowing on a civil level I just want to know, did you really think my password was easy to crack?" questioned the Count tapping his chin with the grenade thoughtfully.
"Your password?" asked the General. "In the cryptanalysis world your password was what they call…what's the word I'm looking for….?"
&
nbsp; "Shit?" offered Agent Two.
"Yes, thank you agent."
"Hmmmm….I changed it from 123456 as well." muttered the Count.
"You may need to review your security Count because it was rather unprofessional."
"So says the man who runs an agency that hires child soldiers."
"Touché." replied the General raising an eyebrow.
"My arms are hurting," grumbled Agent One. "Can someone tell me what we're going to do down here?"
"Either let me go or I blow us all to hell. I have nothing to lose," sneered the Count. "The work of an international arms dealer is a lonely one. No-one will miss me…no-one. Now I'm going to count down from three and if your agents haven’t lowered their guns when I get to one then I pull the pin and I throw it."
"Wait, wait, wait…are you pulling it on one or on zero?" queried Agent Two in alarm.
The Count narrowed his eyes and gripped hold of the pin firmly between his fingers.
"Three…,"
"He's bluffing." muttered the General nervously.
"Two…,"
"Maybe semi-bluffing." muttered the General, beginning to panic.
"Captain!" hollered Agent One over his shoulder. "You may just want to back that wheelchair up a touch because if the Count pulls that pin I'm either going through you or over you."
Just as the Count was about to mouth the word 'one' he caught the eyes of Susan and he spluttered to silence and just stared at her for a very long time.
"What just happened?" wheezed Agent Two squinting out through one eye.
"I have never seen such beauty!" gasped the Count gazing at her.
Susan smiled sweetly and flicked her long, thick black hair over her shoulder seductively.
"She's single!" whispered Agent One winking.
"Quickly, tell him about the whole bending your legs behind your head thing." hissed the other agent.
"He's right," she said huskily. "I'm very bendy."
The Count licked his lips and laid the grenade gently on the desk.
"I should kill you all," he said. "But I cannot in good conscience harm such beauty. It gets so lonely down here by myself with no companion. I don’t want to be lonely anymore and I will make you a deal that I will hand myself over to you if this woman agrees to marry me immediately."
R.A.S.H (Rent.A.Super.Hero) (Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent Book 2) Page 9
