The best reason to write

This was the story that reminded me how much fun writing can be. After years at school studying English for comprehension and being forced to read awfully self-indulgent Carol Ann Duffy poetry, I'd lost the joy of storytelling. 

After the first rush of enthusiasm I also had to realise that some things work better as a short story. I built a world and planned out a novel's storyline that began with this as a first chapter. In the end though, it said nothing more than I'd already said, less really was more. Of course, that didn't change how much I enjoyed writing this short story.

Ultimately, this idea was just too much fun to pass up!

Henchmen

“Well… This looks a little… fishy.” I suppressed a small groan. The only thing worse than putting up with the client’s penchant for dangerous marine biology was having to listen to Blunt’s badly thought through one-liners.

Blunt was your typical secret agent; very, very cocky. He wore a smart black suit and an expensive wristwatch, which doubtless held a laser or a remote control. His sneer said he had done this many times before, single-handedly, and saw no reason why this time should be any different. Fortunately for him, it wouldn’t be. We had been careful in our plans.

I raised the gun to aim at him, giving him an evil grin and showing off my ridiculous teeth. Why the client felt the need to embarrass me by forcing me to wear metal-effect, pointy teeth I have no idea, it wasn’t even original.

At least it was consistent, and the setting did suit my purpose. It would make for a fight which would convince muscle-brain over there and give me an easy way out.

We stood at opposite ends of a large round room. A deep water tank was recessed into the floor. Spanning the water was a narrow bridge, and beneath it a number of predatory shapes were waiting expectantly. Across the bridge stood an antique oak desk. It was covered in the normal trappings of office furniture, except for one thing - a large red button. It was labelled. ‘Drop Bridge’; we really have to spell these things out.

Blunt stood by the desk. I stood across the bridge, smirking at him. It’s expected, and besides, annoying him is just too much fun to miss out on.

This confrontation was to play out in a fistfight. It was much less risky this way, and easier for me to control. I grinned wider and tossed the gun into the water, lunging across the metal bridge towards Blunt. He vaulted the desk and ran to meet my charge.

I’m not a fan of violence, but these brawn-not-brain types won’t believe anything unless it knocks them about a few times. Besides, I can’t deny the sense of satisfaction it gives me to come out on top of this fool, even if it can only be for a moment.

I let him hit first, allowing him to draw a little blood to make it just that bit more believable. My first punch hit him in the gut, the second on the side of his face. A kick nearly sent him flying but I caught and lifted him bodily, hurling him across the bridge and back sprawling face down over the desk. I stood waiting on the bridge, still smiling that stupid grin. Come on you idiot, I thought, do it!

His pain addled brain desperately cast about for an easy way out, and, as always, we had given him one: The Button. He spotted it and smacked it with his fist. The bridge split in two and snapped back to the edge of the water. I gave a pantomime look of surprise and my best howl as I dropped into the water.

As I hit the surface, I thumbed a button on my watch, setting off the water jets and releasing red dye into the water. I swam under the jets, and over the glass panel separating me from the sharks below. I looked towards the concealed hole, in the wall below the desk. As an afterthought I turned and spat out those ridiculous teeth, allowing them to be carried up to the surface, buoyed by the foaming water. As I swam through the escape tunnel, I could only imagine the eulogy Blunt was giving me. He would be patting himself on the back for his cleverness and his resourcefulness…

Agent Blunt heroically, with the last of his strength, cast out for a weapon, any weapon. His eyes fell upon a switch, the same switch which he had seen used to kill two of Wakame’s incompetent underlings just hours before. He punched it, and turned to see Sharky tumble screaming into the water. The sharks quickly got to work, obscuring him from view in the frothing water, but his blood was soon visible staining the surface, and then those fearsome teeth rose to the surface. As the water cleared, he could see there was no trace of the fearsome man remaining. “Don’t worry - there’s plenty more fish in the sea,” he said,  allowing himself a chuckle before continuing on to tackle the man behind all this – Ika Wakame…

The client was his now.

He would of course believe what we told him to believe. Stroking his ego by giving him a big scary enemy to defeat would distract him from how easy it was going to be to pick up our “boss”. A well signposted escape route, sabotaged well in advance, should guarantee he’s there for pickup.

All that’s left is to evacuate all our personnel and move on to the next mark.

A job well done.

*******

Evil geniuses and super villains are nothing new. They’ve had the technology to be really threatening for nearly sixty years. Which gives pause for a thought – if they really are evil geniuses or super villains, why do they never succeed? How can they be defeated by a single person with a gun? If you’ve ever asked these questions before, you’re a lot cleverer than the people I normally have to deal with.

There is a very simple answer – us. You might think it’s spies, secret agents or action heroes who keep you safe from this menace. Good. That’s what we want you to think.

We take these men and women and we stop them, well, from destroying the world at least. There’s no profit in that sort of business.

We find potential, and we teach, we teach very carefully. Teach the bad guys all the wrong lessons. Why else would they think that telling a poorly restrained spy all of their secrets and plans is a good idea? Why else do you think these same agents are put in ridiculous, slow operating death traps and left behind to make good their escape? Any villain, with any sense, would just shoot them and be done. Not while we’re here.

You’re welcome, by the way.

To make this sort of operation work, you need a large organisation, tight security, careful planning and to keep a close eye on everyone at once. We found the best way was to pretend to be stupid. Become dumb minions and most people will believe you, particularly self-confident nutcases like our employers.

Of course we don’t do it for free. We’ll help them so long as they’re making money, although anything too high profile and we’ll throw them to the wolves. By leaving them to the spotlight, we remain in the shadows. And of course, the apocalypse is a no-no.

We are the henchmen, and this is how we work.