Chapter 9: Steelport, Here Is The Overlord
Carlon watched Gnarl's curious mirror for a while, and grew impressed over the shenanigans of a particular group of his underlings.
Mud, being the tactically minded minion, seemed to have rubbed off a little strategy from his master more times than Carlon would admit, picking up some tricks as a result. Even though the squad leader was very abrasive to his teammates, he still got the job done at the end of the mission. Mud's main disadvantage was maintaining order and dividing his attention to all of the minions in his squad.
Bill, surprisingly enough, was the designated driver of the squad. How a minion could train himself to drive and operate a vehicle was beyond Carlon's understanding. But even then, there could be some improvement in the minions maneuvering. That and Carlon was certain that there couldn't be a DMV on this planet that would allow a minion, of all sentient things, to drive a truck.
Flames and Bake's personalities were volatile. Anytime they were together and have nothing to do, they would tempt one another to start burning things around themselves. Bake, being the younger red minion, is often the one to start something with Flames when the both of them have free time. Oftentimes involving setting up targets for each other to find out which one is more accurate with their fireballs. Or picking out targets among their fellow minions, which Flames occasionally did, which would then be punished and disciplined by Mud after.
The two green minions were a little different, compared to the two reds. Snake and Rake acted more like siblings with one another, whereas Snake was a little more... abusive to Rake. Such as forcing the lesser green minion to carry double of the loot that the both of them had stolen. Or relaying bad news to Mud and have him receive full punishment. Or told to start attacking only when Snake had made the first strike when sent against the same enemy.
Heals was an oddball. He had probably knocked himself in the head way too many times during his descent above the city of Steelport, which may have resulted in his apparent brain damage. For a blue minion, he dozes off more often than average, with a heavy salaciousness to women. Kind of makes his hat fit him in that sense.
But Coot was way different from his tribe brother. Coot spoke well and had an innate understanding of how a GPS device worked, though Carlon doubted that that wasn't the extent to his mental acuity. Though Coot was not a tactical thinker like Mud was, he was still smarter than the average minion. Carlon would give Coot an audience to see if there would be other applications that a smart minion like him could invest himself into.
Carlon decided to voice his opinion on the whole elite minion squad. "I will admit. They do their jobs well."
Gnarl, clasping his hands together, spoke his as well. "But of course, sire! The five that had been rescued, because of your boundless generosity, enabled them to bask in the ranks of the elite minion squad! However, because of certain restraints due to your... Ahem... 'capture, pilfering of equipment, and subsequent escape', the squad needed some extra minion-power to help cover more ground, increasing from four to eight members. True, the three of the other minions are novices, whereas one is specialized to transport the whole squad, they still display a set of skills and attain certain knowledge about this world that makes them invaluable to the squad as a whole."
Carlon nodded. "And the four extra minions in the squad?"
"Bill has developed a shining admiration to the mechanical and the automotive. Namely, in this case, a vehicle that he has self taught himself to drive, repair, and tune, naming it Trucky! Then there is Bake. He might not seem like it, but he had quite the affinity in watching explosions. So, in my spare time, before the attempted bank heist at Stilwater in fact, I had him study the various nuances of explosive engineering and bomb disposal."
"Bomb disposal?"
"Yes. I can assure you in confidence that the explosive we raided earlier can be safely dismantled, if needed. Now that you know that we have an expert on things that go 'boom', I would bet five rat spleens that you feel more comfortable about having that bomb here!"
"Even though he is a red?"
"I'm aware of the irony, sire." Gnarl said, rolling his yellow eyes. "But now, I shall resume where I left off. Rake, a green minion novice, has the talent to extract information in interrogative instances. Not only that, he specializes in lock picking, pick pocketing, safe cracking, tracking, and detecting hidden traps, hidden doors, and hidden loot."
Carlon raised his eyebrow. "Impressive set of skills for a minion novice!"
"Oh, don't let him hear your praise!" Gnarl huffed in reply. "I would be all day with his cheery smile that makes me want to push him down some stairs. That, and he might try to get your attention and prattle on about this board game he is fascinated with, called 'Dee and Dee', or something silly sounding like that."
"But what about the blue minion? He doesn't seem like the others."
"Well... No. I was hoping that a little rough and tumble on his first mission would harden him up some, but I suppose Coot is just too far gone with his linguistic skills. In all honesty, when it comes to experience, it wasn't my first choice to have a minion with the experience level of a newborn become enrolled in the minion elite. But my hands were tied at the time, and a minion with innate ability to learn quickly could help us with covert information gathering and strategic power plays."
"He does seem smarter than the other minions."
"Being smart is an eccentricity that not many minions are inclined to have, sire! Once a minion lives past a hundred years, they usually become wizened enough to act as an authoritative guide to the other minions, and become a devoted servitor to their current overlord. Usually becoming minion masters, advisors, instructors and the like." Gnarl turned to Carlon. "However, sire, there are the odd cases where a minion is spawned with above average intelligence. Extremely above average intelligence! Prodigal minions are few and far between, rarely spawning within the span of a hundred years or so."
Carlon nodded, but his face then frowned with confusion. "Odd that you bring this up now, but... I suppose this was not the minion factoid that wasn't important, or was an issue to my rule."
"Correct, sire."
"With that being said... Were you spawned as a prodigal minion?"
"... Uh... Well... My mind is a bit fuzzy remembering instances from my past..." Gnarl said, rubbing the back of his scabby head.
Carlon knew from the tell. A simple unconscious gesture was all it took for Carlon to fit the pieces together. "Aaaahhh... So if I were to guess... You too were a minion that was spawned as a prodigy! And if I'm not too far from my estimation... I think you might be jealous of Coot." He teased.
Gnarl shot an angry look at Carlon with a hideous scowl before going off on a rant. "Oh fine! Yes, I'm a little green in the ears! Is it too hard for me to express that I am concerned that there could be a minion that is smarter than me? Coot apparently excels in the thinking department, and I'm over here worried that I might have to give away my role of minion master to a young blue someday!"
"I don't know, Gnarl." Carlon said, leaning back into his throne. "He does seem a little inexperienced. Having him as the new minion master right away might slow everyone down, and I can't have that. But I am curious... What is a rank that is below minion master anyway?"
"Well I'm glad that you won't will for me to be replaced by a new face anytime soon!" Gnarl said, sighing in relief and relaxed. Gnarl then stroked his goatee and contemplated on his master's question. "And as for the rank below mine... I think such a rank would usually be reserved for the elites in the elite minion squad, sire."
Carlon sighed. "Figures. ... Well... How about this." Carlon leaned forward and explained. "If Coot can manage to gain enough experience to be called a raiser of hell, then maybe I can allow you to have him be under your wing, or something? Or if you are uncomfortable about that, then... I guess have him manage one of the minion tribes in your stead?"
Gnarl turned to Carlon again and pondered this new train of thought. "So... Basically have a minion master in training, but to manage only one of the minion tribes?"
Carlon nodded. "Something of the sort."
Gnarl nodded and looked at his feet, then looked back up at The Overlord. "Why would you want for a minion upstart like Coot to work under me?"
"It's simple. You're not exactly the spriest minion in your older years. I'm just making sure that you don't overwork yourself and get a heart attack one day, or something else. That way, if someone decides that you should be forcibly 'retired', like, say, someone thrusting a knife in your neck and makes certain you don't get back up again, you would at least have trained someone to be your replacement. Or at the very least, teach someone to perform your work while you are away or indisposed with something. Think of it like... a manager gaining a co-manager in a business."
"... Hmm! I'll have to ponder on this for a while. But... I suppose that by the time it will take Coot to learn from his missions and become wizened for it... I suppose I will come up with an answer after that time! I'll have to use my old mind to think up a name for this new sub-rank, too." Gnarl said, pondering and walking off in a random direction.
Carlon rose up from his seat. "Alright then. I'm off to see the Brickston forward base." He said, going forth to the netherworld tower's chandelier/claw.
"Hmm?" Gnarl turned around and saw The Overlord approaching the hanging gate. "Oh! You go ahead and do that, sire. I'll have my magic mirror at the ready! Do you have your enchanted earpiece for your substitute persona?"
Carlon reached into his armor and brought out what looked like a hearing aid that was just a semi-looped band of arcanium, showing it to Gnarl.
"Good. Now remember, sire. A little makeup on your skin might hide the flow of your inner mana from prying eyes, or acquiring clothing that can cover much of your skin for the same effect. But it doesn't necessarily make it so that people can't recognize who you are if they are invading your space and inspecting your person. More importantly, your glowing eyes are a dead giveaway. You're better off getting a pair of eyewear that can block out all forms of light."
"So... a pair of sunglasses... Pfuh! Any eyewear with a glass lens is a bitch to see through." Carlon tried wearing a pair of glasses one time, but found out that the light made by his own eyes was reflected back from the glass lens. Made it near impossible to see during the day, let alone during the night where the light from his eyes could be seen from any kind of pair of sunglasses, no matter the brand.
"Please bear with the blindness, sire. In fact, bring several brands of sunglasses with you for Forge Master Giblet to tinker with. I have a little idea on what we can do with them."
Carlon nodded, then went into the hanging netherworld gate. "What I would murder for some specialized custom design contact lenses." Carlon said, gritting his teeth as he left the netherworld.
Once Carlon emerged from the netherworld gate situated in the basement of an apartment, Carlon was set upon several minions moving in and out of the minion gates to appropriate the forward base with minion-based weaponry and equipment, shoving stored furniture and shelves of things aside for more mischievous devices. When some of the minions tried to enter their respective portals when Carlon was present, they instead noticed their overlord's presence and gave him a salute, before continuing with their duties.
Carlon walked forward and turned to face the netherworld gate, with the minion gates just below the main entrance. The carved stalagmite 'fingers' that circled around the gate had little room to maneuver, which resulted in the fingers puncturing straight into the floor above. The blue mist that was released from the mouth of the netherworld gate swirled and fogged the ceiling of the basement. The blue mist was dialed down just to keep it from building up too much in the basement. ... Actually, Carlon didn't know what would happen if too much of the blue mist is pumped into an enclosed room. If anything, the basement might need some kind of air current coming in, or a vent filtration system that vents the blue mist during the day. That way, Carlon won't need to find out what would happen with a netherworld gate in an enclosed room. But at the moment, the blue mist was contained.
But anyway, on to more important things. "Twenty five wolf riders, nine reds and greens, seven blues." By his command, the minions responded by flowing out from the respective minion gates, where the wolves were eventually thrown out of the main gate in a flailing display, only to be jumped and ridden on by the brown minions. Once all the minions had formed behind Carlon, he suddenly realized that he made an error. "... Oh. Uh... Hmm... Actually, return back to the netherworld." ... The minions Carlon had recently summoned paused and looked at one another in confusion. Their master turned around to face them to see their lapse in obeying orders. "Did I stutter? MOVE!"
The minions in his command hurriedly went back to their respective minion gates, while the wolves were pushed back into the main gate. Carlon would have wanted to bring some minions with him, seeing as though they represent the backbone of his power. But sadly, this will have to be a mission where using such a large horde would just attract too much attention. And the last thing Carlon wanted was to scare his enemies away. But even then, there still needed to be a driver to haul his keister to his destinations. "Gnarl, do you think Bill and his... 'Trucky' can pick me up? I am in need of transportation."
"Actually, Bill has been appraising various vehicles and vehicle parts, to be taken apart and reused for his favorite automotive device. Despite my preference to advise you from taking any 'hand-me-down' items for your own use, we mustn't lose time by walking from one place to another either! I shall inform Bill that you need a transport."
Carlon nodded, and walked to the stairway that lead out of the basement.
After exiting the basement levels and finding the entrance of the apartment, Carlon opened the doors and found the city of Steelport greeting him once again. People that were passing by the apartment entrance saw Carlon and gave him a concerned glare. Despite the different make of armor design, he still stuck out like a sore thumb. They gave him a wide birth, but they didn't recognize him as The Saint Killer of Stilwater. Carlon was in luck, but such luck would not last if he were to mingle with these peasants any more than he needed to. Especially if they were to see his eyes.
A truck of a hideous and ramshackle design had skidded to a halt in front of the apartment garage and waited there patiently. Carlon knew that this hideous eyesore was Bill's 'Trucky'. The driver of this vehicle poked his head out and looked toward Carlon. "Ey! Master! Come in passenger side and take seat next to me!"
Carlon sighed and ventured toward the truck and opened the passenger door, only to step into what might as well be his metal coffin. He also made a mental note not to sit too sharply in the upholstery, since his new armor can easily poke holes into the car seat. But even then, there were holes in the leather already. Carlon looked over and reached for the seat belt... of which there wasn't one. "Uh..." Carlon began. "... How do you buckle up in this thing?"
"Mud chewed chair belt off a while ago. But still, Gnarl said you need car that can drive, so I drive master to one that can!"
"You blaming things on Mud, Bill? Mud will give you big punishings after we drop Mastah off!"
Carlon turned around and saw a minion in riot gear sitting between two blue minions. Carlon immediately recognized him, by his third person way of talking and by his appearance. Bill, however, was having none of that. "No one likes a back seat driver, Mud. Yous can sit right there, or share with reds and greens in way-way back!"
Mud then proceeded to sit there, grumbling loudly for everyone to hear. And Carlon proceeded to sit in the passengers seat for dear life as Mud transported his master to a possible vehicle that can be used.
After what seemed like minutes of manic driving, the roller coaster ride on the roadways finally came to a stop. The very second that Bill had finally parked Trucky, Carlon opened the passenger door and hurled himself out and nearly vomited right then and there. Even though Carlon had managed to collect some lifeforce as Bill rammed into whatever pedestrians got in their way during the trip, Carlon had very much decided not to let a minion drive him around ever again. At least not any time soon.
"Did you enjoy the ride, sire?" Gnarl said, unseen to all, but only heard.
"HURGH!... Um... I'm fine. Remind me never to let a minion drive me around." Carlon said, using an axe as a short crutch to get himself off of the ground again. He still felt very uneasy in the stomach. As it turns out, the only thing worse that falling through a plane as it flies toward you is a minion driving you around in a haphazard truck. Who knew?
"Please bear with the elite minion squad, sire. They try to do their best." Gnarl replied. "But here we are! Your new metal chariot awaits!"
Carlon looked up and saw an abandoned vehicle. By his eyes, it looked to be of another four-seater car. What is the brand name of this car again? Zeon? Neutron? ... Oh yeah. Neuron. Carlon thought, approaching the vehicle and getting in. He then jammed his thumb into the ignition and forced it to turn on. After revving the engine a few times, Carlon peered from his window to speak to Bill of the elite minion squad. "So let me get this straight. You take apart these cars so that you can fix your truck?"
Bill nodded excitedly. "Yes yes yes! I also take things from other cars to decorate Trucky with too!"
"Mm. ... Well... I'm going to go to an auto shop to get this vehicle upgraded to my specifications. Feel free to go there when the manager has been enslaved." Carlon said, settling into his new vehicle and driving to the next destination.
Carlon could guess that Bill was elated to know that he could get more truck parts for his Trucky from the car modification shop. And Carlon happen to know just the place to visit.
After visiting a mechanic, oddly owning an establishment named after a sexual double entendre called 'Rim Jobs', Carlon's Neuron was kitted out with the most highest priced modifications at the very low cost of free. His new car was heavily armored in the frame and bumpers, had nitrous for that needed speed boost, speed and torque improvements, and kneecappers that were just spikes that come out of the wheels when Carlon achieved a certain amount of speed. It was colored black and silver with red and gold flames trailing the sides and hood.
Carlon would rather get back his custom bus from Stilwater and drive that around instead of this lackluster vehicle. But sadly, there was no mechanic shops that could support large vehicle customizations in this city. If Carlon really wanted it, he could just take apart his favored vehicle piece by piece, transport the parts through the netherworld gate, and put it back together here in Steelport.
But that will have to wait, since Carlon pulled in front of a store. He hadn't seen this store before in Stilwater.
'Thin Ice Impressions' was read on the top of the store, as Carlon got out of his car and entered the new establishment. A rather unusual name for a store, since Carlon remembered little to why such a store would combine the names of two stores he knows of back in Stilwater.
Truth be told, there was a corporate merging of two store franchises that had eventually created a re-branding of the store's names. The reason why it didn't happen in Stilwater was because much of the building planning was constantly managed and controlled by The Overlord. Within the store, everything looked clean, respectable, posh, and orderly with a mixture of bright and shiny jewelry and extravagant accessories. Everything Carlon hated was in such a store, the gaudy and boring displays making him want to burn everything. But that might as well come later. He began using his evil presence spell on the store owner first, and then perusing the wares and adorning his person with a selection of clothes at his leisure. The thing about enslaved store owners is that they give you all the money they earned and they give you a discount of $0.00 on all purchases. It may be good to be a king, but it's immorally better to be an overlord.
After Carlon was done with his clothes shopping, he was adorned with a business jacket, slacks, a bowler cap, and loafers. He also wore sunglasses that would help to conceal his eyes. But there was the problem of seeing out of the sunglasses as well. The light emitted from his own glowing eyes, predictably, reflected back from the lenses and limited his vision. What he wouldn't give to dial down his glowing eyes and be able to see. He could squint his eyes and reduce the reflected light, but his vision would remain about the same.
There was only one accessory that was required to be equipped. He put on the arcanium 'hearing aid' onto his ear and heard the familiar voice of Gnarl. "You look quite dapper in peasant clothing, sire! Shame that I don't have the face or physique to wear their wares."
"Gnarl. As much as I like to hear your musings, I have came across a problem." Carlon said, flexing in his new clothes.
"Oh dear. What might that be?" Carlon turned and pointed at the empty set of armor on the ground. "Oh... Hmm! I suppose that is a problem! ... Uh... Why is it a problem?"
"Am I supposed to carry my own armor back to the netherworld gate on my own?"
"Ohhh! Yes, I understand completely now! I'm sure that if you, ahem, 'ask' the enslaved clerk to do the dirty work for you, I'm sure he will bring the armor to our forward base at the Brickston apartments. Simple, yes?"
"Mm." Carlon turned and approached the front desk where the cashier awaited patiently. "I command you, slave. Do my bidding."
"I obey, my lord." The cashier droned, bowing to The Overlord.
"Take my armor and transport it to the apartment in Brickston." Carlon said, pointing to the armor he came in the store with. "So much as scratch it, and I will personally shove my fist into your body and start pulling out random organs."
"Yes, my lord. Right away." The cashier said. He abandoned his post to do as he was commanded, getting a large box to gently place Carlon's armor in. After everything was fitted into the large box, the cashier then lifted the box and proceeded to the back of the store, his knees nearly buckling under the weight of the armor.
Carlon sighed in relief and proceeded to the front of the store.
Or would have when several cars of red and black parked in the street.
Carlon's eyes grew wide when he saw a hulking mass of meat get off the back of a truck and barreled through the entrance of the store only to look around wildly. Carlon stood still in shock. Not in fear, but in surprise. "What in the ever loving of evil is that thing?" Despite Gnarl being the minion to say it, Carlon was thinking the same thing.
Men and women in red and black soon followed after the hulking man and pointed their guns in random directions and at Carlon. They too looked around wildly. The hulking man decided to speak his mind. "Where metal man?" He shouted indignantly within the store.
"... Sources say that a man in a suit of armor walked into this store." One of the Morningstar members said.
"Well were is the man in armor?" Another said.
"No idea. Could it be one of those cosplayers from Let's Pretend?"
"No way to tell."
"Where is the teller?"
"Again, no idea. Must be taking a shit or something."
One of them slowly turned and saw someone staring at them in a curious manner. "Hey you. Have you seen a man in a twisted looking medieval armor walk into the store?" She asked Carlon.
... Carlon couldn't believe it! His disguise worked! "Uh... My vision is not as good when I was younger. But I did hear some boots made of metal come through here." Carlon said. That was technically true, since his vision wasn't as impaired when he was a minute or so younger. That and he did hear his own metal boots enter the store. "... Can I, uh... Leave?"
The Morningstar thug sneered at Carlon. "I'm not your damn parole officer. Get out, or get put down."
Carlon had to use every fiber of his being to not pull out his axe and cut down the offender. Instead, he walked away to let them be dumbfounded about not finding their target. That was incredibly close, and at the same time exhilarating. "Oof! I was on pins and needles there!"
"I know! Did you see how big that fella was?" Carlon said in a whisper.
"I am aware of that brute's apparent hugeness, sire! But we came out and got what you needed, and so I think it's now the time to retreat to safer territories! You're basically naked of all defenses without your armor!"
Carlon nodded. "The cashier had better bring it to the apartment." Carlon then proceeded to his car, got in, and drove back to his forward base in Brickston.
There needs to be a lot of information digging to find out about the huge man that Carlon nearly fought today. Even as strong as Carlon was without his armor, being in a fist fight with that... Brute, as Gnarl called it, would have been too much. Even then, he was without his armor. But discretion proved to be a better weapon as he went out of the store unscathed and anonymously.
But in order to exact punishment to The Syndicate, Carlon would need to control more of this miserable city. And that would mean more forward bases.
A/N: Alright. Well... I'm going to put this story on hold and do something different. An idea struck my head and I can't think of anything else to do for Carlon's story because of it. I want to make another story. Sometimes, writing too much on just one subject can make creativity dull.
In any case, please review and critique. Tell me what I did wrong, and what I did right. But overall, thank you for reading my story and giving me praise for it. Remember! Evil always finds a way! 'w'7
