PROLUGUE
The old man chuckled. He wound the blankets tighter around his old, skinny arms and watched. The subject was asleep. Or atleast pretending to be. The old man was no fool. This man did not sleep. He was an insomniac. He was lucky to get two hours of sleep a night.
"Sick bastard." Chuckled the old man, slapping the subject across the face. The eyes snapped open. The subject managed to bring his head up. The old man looked in to the eyes of the 8ft. 6 inch, 675 pound subject and spit in to the face.
The subject threw his massive body up but he was stopped by hard steel straps holding him down. He glared up at the man. The man smiled and sipped some beer, watching happily. He could get used to this.
The subject held out his hand. It quickly morphed in to a long, sleek steel blade. "When I get out of here," growled the subject breathlessly, "I'll cut out every goddamn limb in your body you old piece of shit."
He swiped at the man. The blade cut cleanly through the glass of beer. The glass shattered on the floor, flying about. The subject smiled.
"You stupid sonofa…" The man started. He sighed angrily, looking up. "You know something? If you weren't so important to Mr. Luthor, I'd kill you right now and here."
"That would be a bad idea, Hyde." A voice came from behind. Hyde straightened up, sucking in his huge beer belly. A bald, slender man in his twenties approached.
"Yes, ummm, Mr. Luthor."
"Really bad." The figure said. He pushed the man forward and the subject reached out. His hands morphed in to an axe and he stabbed the man through his gut. The axe ripped apart his stomach going up through his lungs and then heart, slitting through the neck like rubbed, and ripping out his jaw.
Hyde Clanton was literally dead before he could blink an eye. The figure grinned. He morphed back in to a short, 5 ft. 7 man with wavy red/yellow hair and a clear, tanned complexion. He was short and a little chubby. "Nice show, Phelan." He said dryly.
"Get me tha hell out of here or I'll do you like I did him." Sam Phelan snarled.
"Yes, sir." The man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He took out a mini computer. He attached it to the steel cables holding Phelan down and He typed in a few words. The steel cables retracted a little. Phelan tore himself out of them.
"You're late." Phelan said coolly. "Three days late."
"Jesus Christ, is this the thanks I get?"
"Why tha hell are you late, Kevin?"
"I had a little trouble getting back in to the country, o.k.? What's the big deal. You're free aren't you?"
Phelan's blade morphed back in to his hand. His hands were stained with blood. He wiped it on Kevin's Red T-Shirt.
"What tha hell is wrong with you?" Kevin snapped, shocked and angry. "That cost me twenty four bucks you piece of shit."
"Yeah?" Phelan said. "Watch this." His hand morphed in to a sword again. He reared back and stabbed it in to the side of Kevin's head. Kevin groaned. His heart stopped beating and blood flowed freely out of his head but he groaned for a few more seconds. He was dead before he knew it.
Phelan turned. Guards were running in. "Now for you, Clark." Phelan mumbled to himself. Both of his hands morphed in to swords and he rushed in to the oncoming battalion of guards.