Agency 13 # 13
Working Girl
From the dank, dark recesses of your gray, fleshy minds, draw forth the image of Mike 013 and Agent Deathmonger in a struggle of life and death with a remarkably muscular woman in what would appear to be a poorly chosen and particularly gaudy super-heroine (or would that be villainess?) costume. She's got Mike in a headlock, and has pinned Agent Deathmonger to the ground, by his neck, with her three inch stiletto heels.
(That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?)
Notice: for those of you that are faint of heart, the following tale is not at all G-rated. It may include foul language, excessive violence, sexual innuendo, and other things that would get this story burned, were it in a printed form, by the more fanatical elements of every religion on earth. In other words, if these things offend you, you may want to stop reading now.
(That should do for a 'disclaimer', shouldn't it?)
***
"I still think this whole thing is stupid."
That was Mike 013.
"Trust me, you need a break. You've been whining ever since we got back from Manhattan. And since this case is sure to be a bust, that'll give us some time to mellow out on a Los Angeles beach or something. Of course, I'll also be able to fill in some holes in my Burt Bacharach CD collection, because you know there's no decent record store within a hundred miles of Rock, buddy. Believe me, I've looked."
That was Agent Deathmonger.
"Whatever, whatever. I'm still worried about Seņor Barnett, though. It's my fault that he's in a coma, after all, and -" Agent Deathmonger then waved his friend and boss silent, shaking his head.
"He knew the risks when he signed up for this job. Besides, he also knew what he was doing when he used his powers to save that girl from Wizardyne servitude. Even if he dies, man, it was worth it. You know that." *
"Still." A silence then descended upon the two compatriots, and they spoke little until they arrived in Los Angeles. Once there, the two investigators picked up a rental car, and pored over their information again, to get the data back in their heads before hitting the field. "So, let me get this straight, D. There's supposedly some vigilante in LA, huh? And you want to see who she is, in case she's really some sort of paranormal?"
Agent Deathmonger nodded. "That's right. I'm sure it's a hoax, probably just some psychotic hooker or jaded actress trying to generate hype for a movie deal. I don't know. But I've got three different reports about her, so I figure it's worth checking out. If I'm right, we should find her by the end of the night, and then we can hit the beaches and record stores. Trust me."
Mike just looked at his compatriot in crime, and shrugged. "Yeah, right."
***
Five hours later, Mike was thoroughly bored. Agent Deathmonger had dragged him the length of East Hollywood, and neither investigator had uncovered a sign of their quarry. Oh, sure, his pal had filled up several holes in his CD collection as they sought out this supposedly super-powered heroine on the streets, but people were more than a little reluctant to talk to the Agency 13 operatives. Almost like they were hiding something.
That was the only reason that he didn't just call it quits and drag Agent Deathmonger back to Rock. After all, usually one would expect people to go on and on about something as interesting as a super-powered interloper, clad in Spandex ™. The flat denials and inherent hostility that the two investigators experienced in their simple questioning of the locals seemed excessive, to say the least. And that piqued Mike 013's curiosity.
Giving up the search for their heroine for a good two hours to have a burger, a heaping plate of fries, and several beers, Agent Deathmonger and Mike 013 went over what little they had in regards to the target of their search. "Wait a minute. You never told me that two of these 'reports' of yours were just tabloid articles. Look at this picture - this is some woman's face pasted onto a clipping from a comic book!"
"Yeah yeah yeah. I know what you're thinking. Sure, the picture sucks, but you expect that from tabloids. But both articles, and this letter one of my former FBI pals sent me, all add up with each other. Mike read the letter intently, believing it to be the only bit of 'evidence' regarding this heroine worth the paper it was printed on.
"Okay. I'll give you till tomorrow morning, Mr. Shaw, but that's it. Period. Then we go home."
"That's all I ask, man. That's all I ask."
That night, while trolling the haunted streets of East Hollywood, dodging prostitutes and would-be window washers, Mike 013 heard a scream issue forth from a darkened alleyway abutting an adult bookstore and a strip joint. Hopping out of the car, Mike and Agent D ran into the dirty, bum-riddled alley, and found two men clutching their groins while screaming in agony. They both drew their weapons reflexively, and looked harder.
They spied a woman in a pink stretch fabric outfit, complete with a crimson cape and one of the biggest blonde beehives they'd ever seen. She initially had her back to the investigators, but then turned around, picked up one of her victims, and tossed him about twenty feet in the air! He flew straight up, and then fell, screaming, onto the dirty concrete surface, making a horrid wet thudding sound upon impact.
That was when she noticed the two Agency men. Mike 013 and Agent Deathmonger then looked at each other, Mike raising an eyebrow. The two then looked back at the woman in Spandex ™, and Agent Deathmonger emptied his magazine into her. Incredulous, Mike looked back at his partner. "What you do that for, man? You killed her! She may've splattered that dude all over the pavement, but we don't know the deal yet!!"
Agent Deathmonger looked at Mike 013, more than a little bit miffed. "You raised the right eyebrow, man. That's the sign to shoot. Don't even yell at me - you told me to wax her!"
"No, I didn't raise the right eyebrow, I raised the left one."
The two began to argue the point, but the dispute tapered off seconds later, when they noticed that they strange woman had wandered off while they yelled at each other. That's when Agent Deathmonger's inherent paranoia set in, and he started to back up. "Okay, Mike, we just shot up someone who is super strong, is a great bullet sponge, and whose plastic surgery I just messed up. I think it's time to go."
"What do you mean, we shot her? Don't even include me in this one. I get your point, though..." With that, Agent Deathmonger and Mike 013 made a controlled retreat from the alley. Essentially, they both ran away, but one did so while looking back all the while, the other clearing a path as he looked forward. They made it back to their car and took off in a huff, not cognizant of the fact that they were being watched all the while.
As they drove away from the site of their little incident, Agent Deathmonger and Mike 013 tried to relax. "Don't worry about it, Mike. I know you're under a lot of stress right now, so I can understand why you'd use the wrong eyebrow and all." Mike glared at his partner, and knew he was right, but didn't want to admit it.
"Whatever, man. So, what're we gonna do about this weirdo you just shot up? I'm sure she isn't gonna let this lie."
Before Agent Deathmonger could retort, a pastel blur passed through the front of their rental car feet first, knocking the engine bloc clean out of the vehicle. As the car spun out and came to a stop, the two investigators observed the strange woman in Spandex ™, and found that they didn't really like the look in her eyes. That's when they hopped out of the car, guns in hand, prepared to defend themselves.
Before they could bring the weapons to bear, however, the target of their search picked up Agent Deathmonger. She then flung him across the street, burying him in a pile of televisions that, until moments ago, were on display in the electronics store he'd just crashed through. Mike tried to train his laser shotgun on the vigilante in pink, but she disarmed him with a flashy karate kick, and punched him in the groin - hard.
Falling down to the ground in a ball of hurt, Mike was helpless to intervene as the woman turned with a flourish, twirling her cape around in a dramatic, comic book fashion. She then calmly walked over to the electronics store and retrieved Agent Deathmonger. "All right, pig, why in the world did you shoot me? I ain't no punk, I ain't no criminal, and I ain't in a mood to get messed with by the Man!"
Coughing as he was pulled from the televisions, Agent Deathmonger tried to respond. "Was an accident. Honest. Mike gave me the wrong signal, and - aughk!" He almost got his explanation out, but the unknown paranormal flung him again, slamming him back into the totaled rental car. He tried to get up, to defend himself, but he was blinded with pain at this point, and couldn't quite think straight.
He definitely couldn't find either of his guns.
Their opponent then calmly walked over to Agent Deathmonger again, and picked him up a third time. "Man, look at what you did to my outfit! How am I supposed to fight crime in this thang?" She looked as though she were going to throw Agent D again, but paused as though she were giving him the chance to respond first. And he did, sort of.
"Wait a minute. Did you just say 'thang'?" She prepared to toss him away, but was stopped short.
By Mike's laser shotgun.
The beam cut into the paranormal's wrist, causing her to drop Agent D, and hard. "Listen, woman. We didn't come here looking for a fight. But if you keep throwing my partner around like a rag doll, you'd better believe that I'm gonna blow the crap out of you." He leveled his shotgun at the transgendered vigilante, and she walked towards Mike.
"Oh, so I should just forget about you two creepin' up on me and shootin' me? I am the Working Girl, baby, and I'm making these streets a safe place to play in again. If I got to break a few heads to do it, that don't bother me a bit. And if I gotta break you G-men, too, so much the better!" Mike tried to shoot the apparent Working Girl again, but she flew up into the air, and bore down on him - hard.
Delivering a shoulder block upon him from on high, Working Girl knocked Mike 013 into the ground, and prepared to stomp on his head. She was stopped only by the sounds of gunfire, coming from behind her. Turning around, she saw the form of Agent Deathmonger, leaning on the remnants of his rental ride and holding his second hand cannon.
"Listen, you rag. You got a problem with me, take it out on me, already!" Pushing Mike to the ground, the Working Girl strode on over to Agent Deathmonger and picked him up, ready to make a third and final, fatal, fling.
"Fine. Kill me, already. Just let Mike go. I'm the one that accidentally shot you, Working Girl - if that's really your name. I'm sure your adoring public'll just love you after reports of you waxing a federal agent show up on television." The Working Girl flexed her muscles, preparing to throw Agent Deathmonger to his doom, paused, flexed again, and let him go.
"Fine, have it your way, G-man. I ever see you in Hollywood again, though, and you're dead meat. Got it?"
"Got it."
As the heroine flew off, Mike 013 crawled up to him to see if he was okay. When he found out that the man was in fact alive, Mike 013 collapsed in exhaustion on the city street. "Some vacation. Why don't we just skip the pretense next time, and do something real stupid, like skydiving. In Tibet. Without parachutes. That ought to be even more of a scream, huh?"
Agent Deathmonger just shrugged. "Shut up."
"And since when were you a federal agent again?"
"I said shut up, man."
***
A couple days later, after the hospital finally let them go, Agent Deathmonger and Mike 013 paid for the damages on their car, and boarded a plane headed back for Rock. Of course, since there's no airport within a hundred miles of it, that meant that it'd be quite a while before they finally got home, but that didn't bother Agent Deathmonger. After all, though the Working Girl beat him to a pulp, he was right about her being what she was.
Besides, several hours on a plane, not moving an inch, was his idea of paradise at that particular point in time. "Now, for future reference, Mike: when you raise the right eyebrow, we shoot. Left is caution, but right is shoot. Got it?" Mike just shrugged, resigned to the fact that he was wrong.
"Fine, fine. So I raised the wrong eyebrow. So shoot me, already. Wait. On second thought, forget about that. Let's just get home, and we'll worry about it later."
* Agent Deathmonger is referring to events that took place last issue (in Agency 13 #12).
***
With that that little detour over with, we can now return you to our regularly scheduled story. Come back next month as we check out what's going on with poor Seņor Barnett and the cyborg girl he rescued from the Wizardyne corporation last issue. Is he going to be okay, or are there some deeper ramifications to his extensive actions last issue that he didn't account for? And why is that girl still hanging out with Agency 13, you ask?
***
Agency 13 # 13 - Working Girl
Copyright 2000, 2005, 2012, 2023 Denny Hill 2
All rights reserved and so forth.
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