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Thu Aug 10, 2006 at 08:39:37 pm EDT
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Milo Walters, Henchmen for Hire
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Milo Walters, Henchmen for Hire
--------------------------


Milo had a fairly normal childhood, it wasn't until he was a Senior in High School did his life change & become interesting. Over the years since that meeting, Milo has thought about Mr. Jones. What made his High School's Career Councilor suggest that career for him? Was it because Milo was a good follower? Was it because Milo happened to be the sole member of his School's Comic Book Club? Or was it because Mr. Jones happened to be drunk off his rocker & was about to be fired later that day? Milo's never really found out. But, that meeting has been burned into his Memory & his dreams frequently revolve around that:

"What?" The 18 year old Milo said. His voice cracked a bit. Puberty came late to Milo.

"Yes. According the three Career aptitude tests you & the rest of the school took last month, the tests all point to a long & fruitful career in Henching for you, Milo Walters." Mr. Jones said as he threw up at bit in his mouth.

"Henching? You mean being a Henchman?"

The drunken Councilor nodded.

A little shocked, Milo asked: "You mean that's an actual job?"

"Yes. Since the raise of Super Heroyness in the last few years, Super Villainy is on the raise! Those Villainness people have made Henching has become a Million upon Million dollar industry. Right now the playing field is pretty open for you could have a job anywhere in the world." Mr. Jones said as he words began slur together.

"Ok. I guess." Milo said uneasy on the choice. At the point in his life, we didn't question authority very much. That would change.

--------------------------


Parrodipolis, Morning.
A run down tenement building near the Hell's Bathroom section of the city.
The 4th floor one room apartment that, unless he doesn't pay his rent, belongs to Milo Walters.

He's now in his mid 20's & yes, he's had a many jobs all over the world. He's meet some very interesting people on both sides of the law & done some interesting things, some legal & some illegal. How many people can say that they know how to attach lasers to the heads of a somewhat rabid chickens & not get shot in the process? Not a lot!

As the years went by, Milo has changed employers' as they were either killed, sent to jail, reconned, etc. At this point in life: Milo is looking for a job & living off his saving which are quickly dwindling. He needs a job now or he'll be living on the street. He doesn't want to do that again. Four times are enough! All though living on the street's of Toronto was an experience he'll never forget, in a good way.

At that exact moment, Milo was sleeping. Due to him moving around a lot & various Governments needing his belongings for some reason: Milo doesn't have much that he called his own. In his apartment, he has a rug he found, a somewhat functioning TV he found by the side of the street, a mattress, a comforter & a few clothes.

Milo was awoken that morning by the sound of dripping water & the feeling of it dripping on to his face. Milo blearily looked up, the ceiling was come towards him & he was moving. Milo had just enough time to roll out of the way of the downpour of water as it came down from above. His mattress & everything else on the floor was now wet. Milo stood up, whipped off the wet comforter & opened his door to go ask the Landlord if they knew what happened. He never does, but the act of asking makes Milo feel somewhat productive. Once Milo had the door open, a few Paramedics walked by with a stretcher. On the stretcher was a dead, wet middle aged man.

Once they were past Milo's neighbor, Ingrid Molotov, said. "Ah, goad ya up." She was standing in her doorway. She was standing there in very skimpy set of panties & a bra. Milo had to keep telling himself that she may look 20 something, but she's really old enough to be his grandmother. Ingrid got age regressed courtesy of the U.S Government a few years ago.

"What happened?" Milo asked.

"Man from flat above you got fired yesterda, came home, got undressed, got into tub, turned on water & waited for death." She said in her somewhat heavy accent. Milo wasn't sure what it was, sometimes it sounded Russian & other times it sounded German.

"So, the guy drowned himself?"

"Da." She said & nodded at the same time.

"His neighbor called police when she heard the wata dis morning. It apparently had been running all night."

"I know." Milo said as he stood to one side to show her his now wet living space.

"It bound to happen. Look on bright side: you not have much to replace!" She said with a smile.

Milo was about to make a comment but stopped & then asked "Where did he work?"

"Word in hallway, he was SPUD."

"What's a Super Spy doing living in a dump like this?"

Milo's neighbor then slapped him across the face. "Dummkoff! He not spy, he work in office. Accountant I think they said he was."

"ow." Milo said as he rubbed his face. "Why did you slap me?"

"You need to learn lesson: not all who work for SPUD are spies."

"You could have just told me that."

"True. But, you not remember it as well."

"I guess so." Milo said & he continued to rub his face.

Then, Mr. Johnson, the building's landlord, came up the stairs. He notices the water in Milo's apartment.

"Walters!" The balding male barked.

"Yes?"

"You flood your apartment?"

"No. The guy above me flooded his bathroom & the water came down to meet me this morning."

"So, you flooded your apartment?"

"No." Milo said & stopped. He wanted to go at this as slowly as he could. "The man from the apartment above me flooded his bathroom. Ok? So, the shoddy workmanship of this building couldn't hold that water any more, so I got a liquid wake up call!"

Mr. Johnson looked blankly at Milo. Milo looked blankly back at Mr. Johnson. Johnson then said "So, you flood your apartment?"

Milo was about the say his explanation again, but stopped, sighed & then said jokingly "Yes. I flooded the apartment & made a nice hole in the ceiling, too."

"Glad to hear you admit it. The clean up with be charged to you. Speaking of money, rent is due at the end of the week."

The pudgy man then waddled on & up the stairs to the next floor. A few minutes later, he came back down. But not by the stairs, he fell through the hole in Milo's Ceiling. Mr. Johnson landed on the moist mattress.

"Walters!" Johnson barked.

Milo turned around & said "Yes?"

"You make this hole?"

"No. The Water did." Milo said point blank.

"The Water that flooded your apartment?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Maybe you didn't flood your apartment. But, you'll still have to pay for the clean up of this place."

"Ok." Milo said. Mr. Johnson got up & left the apartment.

--------------------------


Across the street. On the rooftop, there was a woman. She was wearing a one piece, black leather cat suit with a various pockets, zippers & patches on it. A few of the patches identified her as being an agent of SPUD. She also had a couple belts around her waist, most of the them were gun belts. The mocha skinned female, with her pitch black hair done up in bun, was responsible for the SPUD Accountants' death. Her mission was to inform the man that you don't steal from SPUD, it's just not done. She being an expert assassin, one of the best SPUD employs, it was easy to make it look like suicide.

"This is Lady Mocha calling Sugar Bear. I repeat this is Lady Mocha calling Sugar Bear." She said into her comm badge.

She waited a few minutes & then repeated the message. She then waited a few more minutes but before she called back again, she got an answer.

"This in Sugar Bear." a gruff voice on the other end replied. "Is the mission finished?"

"Yes. The target been dealt with."

"Good. Return to the Helicarrier for you nest mission." The gruff voice said.

The agent known as Mango Chutney undid her hair bun, shook her head back & forth so her hair could fly freely in the wind. Agent Chutney got onto her SPUD issued Aerocycle & flew off.

--------------------------


Later that day, Milo was down at on of the many Internet Cafés' that dot the Parrodipolis landscape. But, this wasn't just any Café, it was one owned, operated & frequented by the people on the wrong side of the law. All the Heroes & Law Enforcement Officers knew where it was, but didn't come in because they knew the only people came there weren't really threats to anyone but themselves.

Milo came in to use one of their computers, he wanted to check to see if he'd gotten any hits off the resume he posted on Mobster.com, a site for Super Villains & the like who were looking for work. They weren't any.

A few tables away from Milo, in a semicircular booth: there was a heated discussion going on.

"I'd like to do Dancer!" one of them, The Phantom Talker, said.

"It's an do ok, I have a friend of a friend of friend who knew one of her boyfriends. I'd really like to do Lisa, I need someone with experience." another said.

This amongst other topics were frequently discussed by the the men at the booth, most of them are currently looking for jobs or waiting to be called upon by their respective teams. On the table is a complementary bowl on pretzels, most of them are eating from it.

"Hey! Hey Milo!" The Phantom Talker called out & waved Milo over.

"Yeah." Milo said after he had logged out & started to walk over. Milo meet PT at a industry function a couple weeks ago. It was one of the Fokkers' birthdays.

"Which Heroine would you do if you had a chance?" He asked.

Milo through about for a moment & replied "I don't know. Never really thought about it."

"You haven't?" The Phantom Talker said somewhat shocked.

"No."

"Ok." The man said & then followed that comment up with "You do like chicks, right?"

"Yeah. Of Course!"

"All right." He said with a laugh. "Sit down." He said as he moved down & the rest of the people did to.

Milo sat down. He didn't really have anything else to do that day. Plus, it was sort of an honor for a henchman to get to sit at a Super Villain's table.

Cliché, a loner villain who's life revolves around comic book clichés, is reading the Goth Haven Times. He is currently looking at the classified section. The GHT has a section of the classified ads devoted to jobs for Meta Humans. "Hey, here's something!" He said pointing to an ad.

The group turned their attention to him.

"It says 'Wanted: Henchmen or Henchwoman for manual & degrading work. Must be willing to submit to all commands given from their superiors no matter how ridiculous they maybe. Also, must be willing to move to a small european country & cut off at communication to the outside world. Also, they must be willing to be beaten up by assorted super heroes repeatedly on a regular basis.' It doesn't pay much but they do offer full medical & dental coverage." Cliché said. "Let's see what else, Oh.." He said, then his voice just trailed off.

"What?" Wild Card, another villain, said (It sounds like his type of job). Wild Card was playing with a deck of cards, it's a nervous twitch & an extension of his powers.

Milo also wanted to know about the job, too. That job didn't sound any worse then his last one & this job gave you dental coverage!

"You need a degree in Henching & five years experience with an established super villain."

"Oh, that." Wild Card said, then threw an ace of diamonds at the wall. Where it hit, That section of wall turned into JELL-O.

Milo had heard that before, The question if he was a certified Henchman came up in every job interview he'd had lately. Milo had to say no, being certified cost money he didn't have. He could fulfill the experience portion easily!

"Why do they always want henchpeople with experience or a degree, where are the entry level henchmen jobs?" Wild Card asked as the JELL-O wall collapsed under it's own weight & on to the Baresta.

"I don't know." Mr. Xcitement said. He was one of the few people at the table that could pass as hero, but he wasn't (He felt there was more money in Villainy). "I think it's the economy. Because it's in the toilet, most of major Super Villains & Villain groups are cutting back on the hiring of goons. So, the only jobs out there now are for specialized henchperson jobs or being your own boss, which doesn't pay well. I know I don't see a real return on my effort until year three when I got into that fight with Nats over a package. Most people can't wait that long to get into a scuffle with a mid to upper level hero."

As Xcitement was talking, Stratos-Fear came in. He was dressed up in full costume. He looked like a Scarecrow with black metallic wings on his back. As He sat down, he took of his mask & wings. There were scattered greetings.

"What are we talking about?" He asked.

"The Job market & how it sucks!" Wild Card said.

"Getting back to me: I fell sorry for you guys waiting for jobs. I make my own jobs." Mr. Xcitement said.

"Well, your good at that." Wild Card said. "Most of us aren't." He said as he thought back to his own attempts of being a crime lord & why you don't try to muscle in on the Lynchpin's business.

"True." Mr. Xcitement said, a little full of himself.

Then, the conversation fractured off to a couple side conversations.

"I heard the Hooded Hood might be looking for some new henchmen." Cliché said happily.

You could almost see the state of euphoria in Cliché's eyes. Now, everyone at the table would like to work for or with one of the big name super villains, like The Hooded Hood, Thighmaster or HERPES. But, Cliché always seemed to want it more.

"I doubt you can just go up to Herringcap & submit an application to the Hood?" Stratos-Fear said.

"No. I hear he just shows up & tells you that your his new henchman, wether you like it or not." Wild Card said.

"I wouldn't go looking for him." Mr. Xcitement said. "I personally would like to exist tomorrow."

Thoughts of being erased stopped that conversation. Cliché went back to his paper, Wild Card continued to play with his cards, every some offen throwing them at people & things having them change into something else. Milo just sat there, he really didn't have anything to contribute to the conversation.

"Hey." Stratos-Fear said to Milo.

"Yeah?"

"I heard some guy got whacked in your building."

"He wasn't whacked, he just died."

"You don't just fired from SPUD after what he did. Plus, a few minutes after the body was taken away, a few people say they saw a SPUD Aerocycle fly off.

"wow." Milo said.

"Oh how I loath you, Ham-Boy!" Cliché muttered to him as he read an article on the Meaty Might & his team, The Lair Legion Jr.

--------------------------


Later, still at the Internet Café, the others had gone off to do other things. Milo & Stratos-Fear were still there.

"So, I was fighting CrazySugarFreakBoy!.." Stratos-Fear said.

"You did?" Milo asked.

"Yeah, like late last year. I happen to try to rob the bank he had just happened to have an account at. Go Figure!"

"So, what happened?"

"I was getting to that but you interrupted me."

"sorry."

"No Problem. So, we traded some witty banter. His was way better then mine, very pop culture laden. Just as you'd expect from him. He even mocked me about my lame batter, that was so cool! So, the fight seemed to go on for, like, forever. I kept thinking that I can't believe I'm actually fighting a Legionnaire! Now, I couldn't let him see my joy at this fact, so I might have been a little distracted during the fight. I got in a few good blows, he got in many more. I used some of my arsenal, he used some of his. Near the end I thought I finally had him: I shot off one of my wrist rockets at the wall behind him. He said something about my lousy aim. I quipped back 'I wasn't aiming for you, freakboy!' or something like that, I don't remember. Then, the wall came crashing down on him. I felt so happy, I almost cried! That might have been my greatest moment of being a super villain." Stratos-Fear paused & then said. "Then, I made my big mistake."

"What?"

"I started to monologue." Stratos-Fear said with a sigh. "I began to talk to the mound of rumble & hopefully an unconscious CrazySugarFreakBoy! about how better I was then him & other stuff that I knew I could get away with saying & not getting beaten to a bloody pulp. Then.."

"Let me guess.." Milo said interrupting, again. "He jumped up out of the rumble, maybe a little battered & bruised. Then, he beat you to a bloody pulp?"

"Yeah. So, with a few broken ribs & some minor head trauma, I spent the next few month at Phantomhawk strapped to a bed & under the watch of several guards."

"Did you go to jail?"

"No. At my trial, the judge said that because of my good behavior, I didn't have to jail."

"But, you were strapped to a bed for most of it, right?"

"Yeah. But, I wasn't going to question him. They gave me back my gear & let me go home." Stratos-Fear said & then sarcastically said "God bless the American justice system!" As he did, he stood up & saluted the flag.

Stratos then sat back down & asked. "So, what's your greatest moment?"

THE END




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