Don't have an account yet? You can create one. As a registered user you have some advantages like theme manager, comments configuration and post comments with your name.
Joey Alister stood at rigid attention and resisted the urge to adjust his plain gray uniform which felt like it riding up in the back. This was quite possibly the most important day of his life. His destiny was at hand.
In many ways, Joey was a born underachiever. C average time in grade school, a half-finished high school career, and a string of mediocre jobs and minor brushes with the law filled his past. But now, at long last, he'd found (correction: "...been recruited into") a place where he finally fit in.
The Irma Bunt Technical College of Henchling Studies.
Today was the last day. The BIG day. Today he'd find out what all those months of training got him, and maybe, if he was lucky, he'd end up working for someone who'd one day rule the world.
Okay, probably not, but you never know.
He and his fellow recruits stood at attention in the middle of one of the training "fortresses" as one of their instructors, a man who went simply by the name "Pincer" after the metal clamp which served as his right hand and who had assisted the likes of Baron War, Doctor Terror, the Blight, and even the Franken-Fuhrer, addressed them as a group.
"....So in closing," he continued, pacing slightly across the raised platform overlooking the several dozen grey minions-to-be, "remember that today is your final step in your journey. After today, you will be ready to change the world, by following the orders of others who WILL change the world! You may be the ones to bring in a whole new world order without any of the responsibilities of managing it! In short, you will do the great things of others. Make me proud minions, make me proud.
"And now, it's time for your final test. You will be defending this base from attack. You will be scored on technique, use of available resources, and overall performance. Squad A, you will be in charge of exterior defense on the north side. Squad B, you will be first line interior north side. Squad C..."
First line interior, north side... Joey committed it to memory. That was the loading dock, wasn't it? Wasn't there a break room near there? He wondered if it was still stocked.
"...Squad M, roof. All right minions... your final test begins, MOVE OUT!"
----------
Joey was right, there was a break room near the loading dock, which allowed him to snag an unopened box of donut holes and some stale coffee (which was better than no coffee at all).
"Best. Final. Ever." he smiled and popped another donut hole into his mouth before passing the box to the rest of his team.
"You say that now," his friend Sam said sagely, "but you know what's going to happen, right?"
Sam was tall, dark, and built like two linebackers squished together, but lacked the grace or agility for sports, or as it turned out, much of anything else. Over time Joey had learned Sam's great ambition was to write the Great American Novel, but so far he'd had trouble holding any job due to his size and lack of coordination. He'd finally settled on henching because it was relatively uncomplicated and gave decent downtime to work between capers. Besides, no one had written a novel on the experience of "Henching".
"Oh, yeah," sighed Joey. "That part won't be fun. But it should be quick, and it's gotta be easier than Algebra ever was, right?"
The squad laughed.
"So Joey," asked Sam, "After this, where you headed? I hear you got an offer from the Squid."
"Yeah, but I hear he used to hench for Captain Mako," he replied, leaning back against a concrete barrier. "I mean, come on, who wants to be a flunky's flunky?"
"I hear ya', man."
"So, Squid's out, but I hear Doc Hammer is hiring. He's got some decent contacts with the Guild, so that would be good entry level, maybe make a few connections and see who's best to hench for once I'm in the field."
"Good plan."
"How about you Sam?"
"I'm thinking of trying to sign on with the Laugh Master," Sam said.
There was a collective groan from the group.
"Dude, have you seen those uniforms? They look stupid, even for henchwear."
Sam shrugged, "I know. But at least they have masks..."
"Whoo," Joey cheered sarcastically.
"...and a decent 401K," Sam continued, "good benefits package, medical coverage, even dental."
"Whoah, did you say dental?"
Sam nodded. "Laugh Master may be nuts, but he's got a scary good head for finances. You should see his portfolio."
"Laugh Master has a portfolio?"
"Mm-hm."
"So why the hell does he do all those crazy crimes?"
Sam shrugged. "He gets bored easy? He's got a clown fetish? Who knows. What about you Bob?"
Joey suspected Bob had used some hard drugs before he ended up on the henching track. He had a certain emaciated quality to him - every uniform he wore, no matter how supposedly form-fitting it was hung loose on his body - and only a partial connection with reality. His stringy blond hair was always falling in his eyes but he never really seemed to care.
"Gonna try for the Ice Queen."
"More like Ice Βitch," Joey muttered.
"Hey! Don't diss my future boss babe!"
"Bob, you know Ice Queen doesn't hire men," Sam explained calmly. "Just 'Ice Maidens'."
"So?"
"So, she doesn't even like men," Joey added.
"But think, all those chicks, that's why it'd be AWSOME henching there!"
"...You are deeply deluded."
"Thanks!" Bob said brightly.
The other three rolled their eyes.
"How about you Matt?"
Matt was the youngest of the four and just barely the shortest. A high school dropout as well, he'd been in gangs for a few years until he got recruited, which wasn't too uncommon. Lots of flunkies got recruited directly from the larger gangs. By then they already understood hierarchy, taking orders, uniforms, and basic weapons, all good skills for henching. Plus, Matt was generally pretty quiet, an even more important henching skill.
"I'm kinda thinking of Skylord," said Matt.
"Whoah man, no way. Bad plan!"
"Why?"
"Skylord has a FLYING FORTRESS!"
Matt gave him a blank look.
"You NEVER want a flying fortress gig!" Joey explained. "Something goes wrong, and it always does, and then what?" He mimed something in a nose dive. "Eeeeeeaaaaawwwwwwnnn... FOOM!!"
"Um... well, there's supposed to be life boats-"
"On an FLYING fortress?"
"Well-"
"Seriously man," Sam added, "you think they stock enough life pods for all the flunkies? Those things are a real death trap. Almost as bad as underwater fortresses. Nah, give me a warehouse any day. Less glamour, LOTS more survivable."
"Lots more clown makeup," Bob added, grinning. Sam flashed a quick glare at him.
Just then the PA system boomed to life. "ATTENTION! THE ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED AT NORTH ENTRANCE AND IS ADVANCING ON SQUAD A! MINIONS, ELIMITE HIM!!"
"That's our cue," said Sam.
"BOOYAH!! LET'S GO MINIONS!!"
"Shut up Bob."
They scrambled to their positions behind whatever cover the loading dock could offer. Joey checked his weapon, a Heckler & Koch MP5 knockoff which wasn't quite as good as a real MP5, but was still a pretty good sub-machine gun.
That had been an unexpected benefit of Joey's henching education: he'd gained a real eye for weapons, especially cheap ones.
Outside he could hear shouting and gunfire. Squad A must have met the enemy. Those donut holes were now laying like little lumps of lead in Joey's stomach and he was starting to regret his snack break.
This was it, the moment of truth.
"Think Squad A will win?" Matt asked.
"What do you think?"
There was a loud explosion outside. Grenade launcher, thought Joey, M203.
"...Oh," said Matt. He sounded very worried.
"Don't worry kid, you'll do fine," Sam told him.
"Shhh... listen."
They did. The sounds outside had stopped and it was quiet.
Yeah, thought Joey. TOO quiet.
The next moment, the door of the loading dock was torn from its tracks and in rolled one of the large robotic training dummies on large tank-like treads, its wedge-like body painted royal blue with a white shield dead center in the "chest", just like the famous hero of Nouveautropolis.
Joey suddenly remembered the little rhyme Sam had taught him:
Blue and white,
put up a fight.
Black and red,
you are SO dead.
Joey breathed a small sigh of relief - at least their opponent was based on the big blue boyscout, not the dark scary guy. This training bot wouldn't be out to inflict some creative REAL pain.
He aimed his gun right at the shield symbol, just like he'd been taught for situations like this and pulled the trigger as the rest of his team opened fire as well. Bullets rattled off the titanium chest plate, barely denting it, much like they would have done against the real thing.
The dummy rolled inexorably forward as ammo continued to ineffectively ricochet off its metal hide. Joey found himself backing up as he continued to squeeze the trigger down, sending a steady stream of ineffective ammo at the enemy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam and Matt doing the same. As for Bob, he was holding his ground, the idiot, and the training dummy continued to close. It reached out a metal arm and grabbed Bob who failed to dodge fast enough, and threw him against the wall. Joey winced as he saw his fellow henchman-to-be slide down and land in a limp heap on the floor.
Oof, Joey thought, one down already.
He continued to hold the trigger.
click click
Joey cursed, out of ammo already?
No, it was jammed. Stupid knock-offs.
There wasn't time to fix it, so without thinking, he threw the empty weapon at the target, where it bounced off harmlessly.
He pulled out his pistol and fired because there wasn't much else he could do, and the thing still wasn't stopping. He took another step back and felt something roll under his foot and realized too late that it was some of Matt's spent shell casings.
"Oh sh-"
Joey's foot shot forward and he flailed his arms like a mad chicken as he tried to keep his balance. He felt something in his other knee click in a bad way and landed on his butt with all the grace of a sack of garbage.
The next second, the training bot loomed over him.
Oh, this is going to hurt, thought Joey.
It did.
--------------
Joey opened his eyes to the familiar smell of antiseptic and iodine.
Ah yes, the medical lab; a place they'd all gotten to know well over their henching education.
He quietly lay on the cot and stared at the ceiling, feeling very much like he'd been run over by a truck, which, in a sense, he had. He knee felt a little sore, but not twisted, which was a small comfort. Mostly he just felt... run down.
Well, that's over. Wonder how long until-
"Candidate 84?"
Joey snapped out of his thoughts. One of his instructors was standing over him. He quickly clambered to attention and immediately regretted it as his head started to throb.
"How do you feel?"
"Feeling pretty good sir," said Joey. Except for the headache, and I still think I did something to my knee...
"Good good. Sign here please." The man handed Joey a pen and clipboard which he promptly signed, wondering what it was.
The instructor glanced over the clipboard and nodded. "You were the one who threw your gun, correct?"
"..Yessir. It jammed sir."
"Ah. Nice touch by the way. Very classic."
"Thank you sir."
The man pulled the second paper off the stack on the clipboard, bundled it with another sheet, and handed it to Joey. "Congratulations. Well done."
"Thank you," Joey beamed and shook his instructor's hand vigorously.
"Now get out there and make someone look good!"
"Yessir!"
Joey kept smiling for several minutes even after the man left. He'd done it, he'd really done it, and with only minor lacerations too.
He found Sam and the others a few minutes later. They were gathered around Bob's cot and Bob who was sporting a lot of plaster on his face for a broken nose.
"How you feeling Bob?"
"Dot bad," Bob answered sounding like he had a bad head cold. "Dey told be that it bight heal crooked."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You lucky sonovabitch!"
Bob beamed, or tried to. The swelling made it hard.
"They been by here yet?"
Sam nodded. "Got our papers and everything."
"How did you do?"
The big man grinned. "Hit big blue with a pipe. Got it to bend too." He held up a slightly angled metal tube like a trophy. "Pincer said I got bonus points for style. And Matt here hit the alarm before he got thrown through a crate so we got 'alert the base' points too."
"Oh yeah. We rock!"
"I bissed it... did we win?" said Bob looking confused.
Sam sighed and clapped him on the back. "We're professional henchmen. We're not trained to win, just live to see another day. You're still breathing, right?"
"Well, yeah."
"Did you run like a little girl?"
"Hell doe!"
"Then you passed. Besides, if we won sometimes, we'd be out of a job, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah. Right."
"Guys want a beer? I feel like celebrating!"
"Matt here old enough?"
"HEY!"
"Come on, first round's on me!"
Joey felt good. He felt really good, like he take over the world. Or more accurately, helps someone else take over the world, and isn't that what it was all about?
There may be a lot of born leaders out there, but they're nothing without people like us.
Yeah, life was good.
FIN _________________ "Flash, quit heckling the supervillain!" - Green Lantern
The Ether Forge: http://www.stkp.com/POSER/
You cannot post new topics in this forum You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum
Profile
Search
Memberlist
Log in to check your private messages
Usergroups
FAQ & TOS
Log in
