CHAPTER 23: THE LAZARUS EFFECT, PART 8
Arnold Shortman is the Green Eye. They are the same person, but they both hold different lives.
One is a calm and polite young man who lives with his parents and fiancee in a boarding home, with a taste for jazz music and a fan of baseball.
The other is a Spirit Master, a being of great power created and raised by an ancient race of peoples called the Green Eyes, who is the defender of the city of Hillwood from any crime or threats to its people.
Though the two lives are one, and they often meet at opposition with another, both lives share some trouble on this day. The two sharing their thoughts is a rare instance, and what is even more rare is the stance both share. On the mind of Arnold Shortman are the topics of Lila Sawyer, 'Little' Nicky Russotti, and the Freak.
Lila Sawyer is his first love, and one left both unreciprocated in its time, and unresolved as time passed for him and her. He is currently engaged to Helga Pataki, the girl who does love him back, but there is still a sliver of interest of Lila in his mind; something that keeps him thinking about her.
Arnold does not know if this interest is infatuation, lust, or simply morbid curiosity.
'Little' Nicky Russotti is the crime boss of Hillwood; returning to the city he once dominated following an escape from prison, and currently rebuilding his criminal empire. His goals are to seek revenge on the death of his son, and he requires a human life to be taken in order to obtain that revenge.
Arnold does not know how to stop him, nor how to quell his need for revenge.
The Freak is the first supervillain of the United States of America, and is just as responsible as he is for the Hillwood Effect; a trend in the country that has seen the rise of both heroes and villains alike. His body count is smaller in comparison to his successors, but his impact is unmatched. Recently, he has realized that he does not perceive reality as it really is, and his origin is false, but he does not care.
Arnold does not know what to even do with him anymore.
Currently, Arnold, dressed in his uniform as the Green Eye save for his mask, tries to find a way to remove these thoughts from his mind. In a small training dojo within the Hillwood Heroes' base, Arnold holds his staff tight and practices his form and stances; allowing the sharpening of the body to quell the mind.
He takes a horse stance, grounding his balance and sense of ground. He follows by moving forward with his staff, thrusting it forward several times in the air, stabbing at an invisible target. He sweeps, knocking this invisible target of his feet. He jumps, spins in the air, and prepares to land his falling strike to the ground.
His move does not meet the nonexistent target. Instead, it meets something that does indeed exist, as evidenced from standing right in front of him and obstructing his strike. The object is the weapon known as the Sonic Fork, and its wielder is, of course, its owner; Gerald Johannsen, known by night as G-Funk. Currently, he, too, is not masked, only dressed in all but his mask.
"Hey Arnold. Need a sparring partner?" Gerald asked.
"Oh, hey, Gerald. Yeah, sure, I could probably use somebody right now." Arnold said.
Drawing his staff from Gerald's Sonic Fork, Arnold stepped back to allow the two to come to a dueling stance. The two gave their weapons a light tap to one another; giving a motion of respect to each member of this spar. They join the fight as friends, and they vow to fight as such.
"Never seen you train that much unless you're whipping some of us into shape. I thought that whole healing power of yours took care of most of your muscle." Gerald said.
"Martial arts helps sharpen the mind as well as the body. Besides, I could always use a little practice." Arnold said.
"Same here."
Gerald swung his Sonic Fork towards his opponent, making a stabbing motion not unlike Arnold was doing beforehand. Gerald's moves were swift and hard, but less than perfect in their coordination. Arnold, however, was perfect in his own coordination, and deflected his shots as each one came with a series of blocking motions from his staff.
"Not bad. You picked up on your form a little." Arnold said.
"You're a good teacher." Gerald said.
"Thank you."
Arnold followed his thanks with a spiraling attack of his staff, swinging it too hard and fast for Gerald to block away with his current position. Taking a step to the side, Gerald pushed his Sonic Fork against Arnold's staff, knocking it to the ground, and followed up by stepping up to his opponent's side.
"You usually don't practice unless you've got something on your mind. What's up?" Gerald asked.
"Why do you ask?" Arnold asked.
"I'm your best friend, man. It's my job to know what you're thinking."
Driving his foot into Gerald's heel, Arnold knocked his opponent on the floor; the blow softened by the padded floor of the dojo. Moving away from Arnold's subsequent stabbing staff attacks, Gerald rolled away from his strikes, propping himself on his feet once again and readying his Sonic Fork.
"C'mon, man, what's goin' on? Is it 'Little' Nicky? We'll get him, you know." Gerald said.
"I know, even if it won't be easy. But there's still a few other things on my mind." Arnold said.
"Like what?"
Arnold ran up to Gerald and jumped up in the air, throwing two kicks at him, both blocked with the deflection of the metal Sonic Fork. Landing back on his feet, Arnold followed his aerial kicks with some grounded ones, throwing sweeps and swings of his staff with each spin into his kicks. Each strike, however, was deflected by Gerald once again, save for a scuff of Arnold's boot across his face.
"Tell me something. Do you remember Lila Sawyer?" Arnold asked.
After wiping his face from the landed kick, giving a scoffing smile out of impression at Arnold's kick, Gerald answered the question.
"Yeah, I remember her. What's up, you see her recently?" Gerald asked.
"Been spending some time with her at a cafe. She's starting up that new Baptist church here in town as the head pastor. She talks religion with me sometimes, I find it interesting." Arnold said.
"I didn't take you for being that religious after that whole Spirit Master thing."
"I didn't, either, but I was still raised Catholic. Something to think about. That's not what really bothers me. I read into her mind a little, got some weird readings."
"What kind?"
Arnold threw a lunge attack with his staff, causing Gerald to sidestep it and swing his Sonic Fork towards his opponent's face. The weapon did not reach its intended target, however; Arnold dropped down to his knees, sliding across the floor, and spun himself around, throwing the other end of his staff towards Gerald, leaving his next attack blocked once again by the Sonic Fork.
"Not too sure. Like some mixture of love and pain all wrapped into one. I've only seen it in some cases like child abuse, but this is way different." Arnold said.
"So, you ask her if something came up?" Gerald asked.
"No, that's not something I can ask somebody. Even if she was, I doubt she would answer that question anyway."
"True. So, I heard you ran into some of 'Little' Nicky's guys at the Freak's hospital. What were you doing there?"
Arnold pushed his staff against Gerald's Sonic Fork, sending to the floor and leaving his target unprotected. Leaving his opponent wide open, Arnold stepped in for a side kick, aiming it straight for Gerald. Releasing a hand from his weapon, Gerald blocked Arnold's foot and pushed it aside, deflecting his kick and sending the both at opposing ends again.
"I went to pay a visit to Curly." Arnold said.
"What?! Why?" Gerald asked.
"I threw him off a roof and crippled him. That's not exactly something easy to sleep on."
"Speak for yourself."
"I thought we were over that. In any case, I don't think I'll be paying him a visit again. I've done all I can with him, and all that can be done's being done."
"In other words, he's just gonna sit there and still be crazy. But, at least he'll be crazy there, away from anyone else and unable to move."
"Fair enough."
This time, Gerald made the first offense, stepping forward with a series of stabbing strikes with his Sonic Fork much like Arnold so fondly delivered previously with his staff. However, while he could just barely to manage deflecting Arnold's shots, Arnold found little difficulty blocking his own shots, knocking all strikes back with his staff.
Gerald pushed forward with a series of sweeps and swings of his Sonic Fork towards Arnold, hoping the sheer size of his weapon and its weight would be enough to land a shot in him. However, what he failed to account for was Arnold's incredible acrobatic skills, allowing him to seamlessly slide and dodge his way through the swings, until he put a stop to them by blocking the Sonic Fork with his staff.
"To be honest with you, Arnold, I got some troubles of my own. It's mainly doing okay, but it's between me and Pheebs." Gerald said.
"Really? You two have a problem? Didn't think I'd live to see the day." Arnold said.
"Tell me about it."
"So, what troubles you on your end?"
"Pheebs wants to move out of the city and start headin' to college. We're still planning it all, but, there's too many things about it I can't get off my mind."
"Like what?"
"Why don't you read my mind and find out?"
"First off, I can't read minds. I can read feelings, and what causes them. Not the same thing."
"Then why don't you do that?"
"Because, second, that's not how help works. I don't just have to know what the deal is, you do too."
Taking their weapons and bashing them together like pugil sticks, the two seemed to try to push against each other until one or the other was moved back to the other end of the room. Though Arnold had an advantage in stance and footwork, Gerald held just enough size to overcome this; weight being more of a factor in such a fight like this. Pushing against Arnold, Gerald drove him against a wall in the dojo.
"Fine. Thing is, she wants to go to just a regular university if I go, too, but, if I don't, she'll go to some higher-up school. I don't wanna drag her down like that, so, I've been hesitating to give a clear final answer to 'yes' or 'no'. I like being G-Funk, and I could do this superhero stuff for the rest of my life easy. Most importantly, Hillwood's still my home, and you're my best friend. I don't wanna just pack up and leave either." Gerald said.
"Hmm." Arnold said.
Arnold released his grip on his staff, sending his open-palmed hands straight to Gerald's chest, pushing him off. Rather than jump to catch his staff, Arnold instead threw a kick to it, sending it straight towards Gerald's face, bouncing off it, and landing back into his hands. After overcoming the sudden and unorthodox move, Gerald gave a snicker at the move.
"Just tell me one thing. I already know the answer, but I want you to say it. Do you love Phoebe?" Arnold asked.
"Hell, yeah, I do." Gerald said.
"Then wouldn't the obvious choice just to go and move out with her? Head with college and spend some time bettering yourselves?"
"But if I go, she won't go to a better school. If I love her, then I won't drag her down like that. Like I said, I like kickin' some bad guy butts as G-Funk."
"You won't be doing this forever, Gerald, nor would you want to. I intend to put a stop to crime in the city one day so that I can give it a rest and be with Helga. You don't have my powers, so you're liable to get yourself hurt down the road. The kind of hurt you don't get better from, where you might never walk again."
"Yeah, but even so. What about dragging down Phoebe?"
"We all make sacrifices for the people we love. Helga makes sacrifices for me as the Green Eye, I see no reason why Phoebe wouldn't give a sacrifice for you."
"Still, man, I don't think I could really forgive myself if I took that from her."
"That's her choice to make, for better or worse."
"Heh. Not 'til the wedding."
Spinning around in place, G-Funk threw momentum into his next move to throw the end of his Sonic Fork towards Arnold's feet, making a sweeping move. Once again displaying his acrobatic skills, Arnold jumped up into the air, dodging his strike, and landed atop the tip of Gerald's Sonic Fork.
Gerald pushed his Sonic Fork to the side, leaving Arnold to lose his balance and fall to the floor. Landing on his hands, Arnold balanced himself upside-down and threw a kick towards Gerald, flipping himself upright in the process. As he spun around to land on his feet, he also threw another swing of his staff towards him, but only had it land on the floor.
"Oh, planning a wedding, too?" Arnold asked.
"More or less; it's on the list with 'college' and 'moving out'. Still, man, I don't know if I can do it. I've lived here my whole life and had you as my best friend. I can't just drop all that and go without a second thought. It ain't that easy." Gerald said.
"It never is. But I can't hold you back just because I'd miss you. You've still got your own life, and your own way to live it. You've got a chance for bettering yourself, and a chance for a good life ahead of you."
"Even so. I don't think I'll get used to be somewhere different than Hillwood for a good part of my life. Gonna be a hard time, having a whole new life."
"Well, we've all got to grow up sometime."
"Heh. Ain't that the truth."
Continuing to take his stance on the floor, Arnold held his staff close to his chest, extending it out, and began spinning on the floor with several sweeping attacks. Unable to effectively block his attacks or even land any attack himself, Gerald decided to make the last move possible against this approach.
Powering on his Sonic Fork, Gerald fired a soundwave blast towards Arnold, sending him flying across the dojo with a shockwave powerful enough to give him a hard crash into the wall. Though Arnold managed to pick himself onto his feet again, he was out of breath from the sheer intensity of the attack, leaning downward to catch his breath again.
"Whoa, Hey Arnold, you alright? Didn't mean to hit you that hard." Gerald said.
"Cheater." Arnold panted.
Giving a chuckle and a smile, Gerald gave a pat on Arnold's back, giving a physical sign of friendship to make up for the previous and less-than-friendly attack. Upon catching his breath again, Arnold gave out some laughs of his own, bringing some levity after their sparring session.
As a sign of friendship, Arnold extended his fist with his thumb sticking out, inviting a familiar handshake to his friend. The instant upon getting the invitation, Gerald pressed his fist against Arnold's; their thumbs pushing back and forth towards each other, both giving a smile.
The two laugh one last time, as friends.
Meanwhile, as the two friends share a warm moment together as close acquaintances, the unethical experiments against the nature of life itself continue at Membrane Laboratories. Still hard at work at their branch of the megacorporate research and development company, the scientists, led by Dr. Combs, seek out to find the key to raising the dead using the blood of the Green Eye.
Most of the experiments have been met with no success, with the test subjects, a cadaver produced from a recent death, coming back to life only to quickly end again by exploding into a mess of blood and gore; their muscles and organs overgrowing to the point beyond stability. There is one subject who has survived the painful rebirth of the body without ending again, however, and he is under supervision now.
Currently, taking a direct approach with the only living test subject, Dr. Combs interviews this man to see what he knows and remembers about himself.
"What is your full name?" Dr. Combs asked.
Between each question, the resurrected man took a long time to answer, but soon found the answers come to his mouth.
"Frank... Jefferson." The man replied.
"What is your birthday?" Dr. Combs asked.
"...June 23rd... 1977."
"What is your profession?"
"...I'm... a bus driver..."
"What is your most recent memory?"
"...Had a lot of... pressure... in my chest... Think it was a heart attack..."
Along with all their conversation being recorded, Dr. Combs wrote down every piece of information he was given as well, making sure that he had all the notes he needed for the study. Having his very first test subject survive from the formula, there was much to be done with this data.
"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to take this information to the back." Dr. Combs said.
"Wait... I want... to go home. When can I go home?" Frank asked.
"Uh, soon, Mr. Jefferson. Very soon. The events of your... treatment are experimental, and we need to take some notes regarding the effects."
"'Experimental'? What did you do to me?"
"We saved your life, Mr. Jefferson. That's all I can tell you right now. Please, I really have to go. If there's anything you need, simply call and we'll get it for you. Just try to relax and breathe for now."
Exiting an isolated room containing the resurrected Frank Jefferson, Dr. Combs took his information on paper and moved to a computer, seeking to input the data into the study to gain a further understanding. The stress of his work begins to get to his head, making him start to sweat, and crudely wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.
Though he bears much of the burdens of this project, he is not alone on this elevated level of stress. The whole of the scientists on this project are restless and anxious from their work; both with the tall order and the accelerated timeframe, and the moral, ethical, and religious qualms about their work.
Nonetheless, they are still hard at work, and one approached the preoccupied Dr. Combs to inform him that more work is being done.
"Dr. Combs. The next test subject is ready. We've readied the formula with increased dose of what was in Test Subject 3's dose." The scientist said.
"Good. I'll be right there." Dr. Combs said.
Dr. Combs finished the remainder of his typing, placing the last parts of his data into the computer and drawing his conclusions from it to be ready for the next test. Saving his files and subsiding them for later, Dr. Combs sat up from his chair, tucked his lab coat in readiness, and prepared to make his way to the next test subject.
"Dr. Combs, sir? I know you aren't for the idea, but we really can just get someone to help us. Even if you don't trust the local police, we can get the F.B.I. involved. Why keep this up?" The scientist asked.
"Two things. One, Buckley Lloyd scares me shitless. The rich and powerful can get away with anything; dressing up in a metal suit's one thing, and making somebody disappear is another of those things. I'm not going to cross him. Second, just like you, I'm a scientist. It's my job to see this project through to the end." Dr. Combs said.
"Sir, I'm sure the men behind the Manhattan Project said the same thing."
The warning was a dire one, and a relevant example of the misuse of scientific power and discovery, but the warning fell short of its goal. Still instilled of his fear of Buckley Lloyd by his alter-ego, Valiance, Dr. Combs still pushed on to finish the project, seeing that the dead might finally be brought back to life.
"Ready test subject number 4." Dr. Combs said.
At Dr. Combs' command, the team of scientists readied all observing equipment around the room holding the next test subject, an Asian woman in her late 30s. The cadaver sat on the cold table it was placed on, just as inanimate as it was when it expired, and as it will always remain.
Until now.
Taking an altered sample of the Green Eye's blood, following the same alterations used for Frank Jefferson, the third test subject. The dosage of the added chemicals were increased, almost more than a healthy human's blood could tolerate were the subject alive and well.
This subject is not alive, however, and it shall not be well following this experiment.
One scientist walks into the room, and administers the injection of blood into the subject's body. Removing the needle, the scientist quickly walked back out as fast as he entered, not wanting to stay for the events to follow. He rejoined the rest of the team, all huddling behind Dr. Combs, just as he began making his first notes of the test.
"Project Lazarus, Test 3. Injected about 300 milligrams of blood into Test Subject 4, an Asian female that expired in her 30s. Dosage of chemical compounds introduced increased. Waiting for results to come to fruition." Dr. Combs said.
Back inside the base of the Hillwood Heroes...
Arnold and Gerald, best friends as they once were and best friends as they ever will be, share a light chuckle regarding their sparring session of only a few moments ago. Their training was hard and vigorous, as if the two were true opponents in real mortal combat, but the reality is far from the truth, and the two laugh off the battle as if it were merely a game.
"Where'd you think to get the idea to kick the stick to my face?" Gerald asked.
"Luz did it to me one training session. I was surprised at it myself." Arnold said.
"Damn, man. I'm starting to think I might need to talk to your dude and pick up some of your crazy tricks."
"I'm not sure you could keep up with the training."
"Oh, really? Who managed to keep up with you at football all those years?"
"Heh, yeah, I know, I'm just messing with you. But, in all seriousness, it isn't just something we can pass out like that. It's only available to people who were meant to handle this power. Anyone trying to tamper with that could-"
Feeling that same strange and foreign emotion once again, Arnold paused mid-sentence; his eyes going wide and his breath starting to quiver under light grunts and moans. Never witnessing this strange event before from his friend, Gerald looked to Arnold in confusion to his actions.
"Hey Arnold? You alright?" Gerald asked.
Back at Membrane Laboratories...
Resting on the slab motionless, the cadaver of the woman began to gain momentum in its resurrection; its heart began to beat, its breath began to rise, and its muscles slowly began to twitch under the physiological stimulation of the blood. The scientists all watched the body with eagerness, waiting for the inevitable moment which the body would rise.
And, in an instant, it did. Much like its predecessors, its screams were loud and pained, with the body clutching its head in an attempt to make the pain cease. With no one to let its pain out onto, the body beat against the glass, letting out its agonized screams with its efforts.
Unable to reach the observers on the other side, the body instead crawled into a corner, curling up into a fetal position and attempting to cover every part of itself away from those watching it. Its screams continued on; the pain never ceasing, leaving the body to continue pounding against its head.
Dr. Combs notes this reaction, and takes his notes.
"Hmm. No difference in reaction. Dosage of the chemicals must not make a difference." Dr. Combs said.
Back inside the base of the Hillwood Heroes...
Feeling the pain overwhelm his mind once again, Arnold fell straight to the floor, screaming at the flood of pain cutting into his mind. He clutches at his head again, hoping that his hold will bring some relief to the pain, but, just like before, there is no relief that comes yet, nor any signs of this pain lightening early.
Continuing his hold on the floor, Arnold was swiftly held back on his feet by Gerald, trying to help him out of whatever was overcoming him. Seeing his best friend being overwhelmed by a strange sense of pain, without any sign of the cause or any way to assist him, Gerald could only helplessly watch as his friend suffered; unable to do anything to relieve his agony.
"Hey Arnold! You okay, man?! Talk to me, man, what the hell's going on?!" Gerald asked.
Unable to handle this pain on his own, Arnold grabbed onto Gerald, hugging him tightly as if he were the only thing he had left to hold on to in this reality or sense of sanity. Though he still did not understand what became of his best friend, Gerald returned the hug, trying to give whatever comfort he had to Arnold.
"The pain... It's been happening... I don't know why..." Arnold said.
"You just hold on, man, just hold on. I'm gonna get you some-" Gerald began to say.
"No... The pain goes... Just hold on... Need to tough this out..."
Back in Membrane Laboratories...
Though the pain that Arnold is put through is misunderstood by his best friend, he is not alone in the world from anyone understanding. Within a small cell in Membrane Laboratories, Frank Jefferson also feels the pain seep into his mind, bringing him an assault on his inner space.
However, unlike Arnold, he sees the visions of a woman suffering, calling out for anyone to give her relief from her painful rebirth. Frank recognizes this from his own resurrection, and he cannot let anyone suffer this pain alone. He needs to get out of this cell, and he must do it now.
Going to the door to his cell, Frank beats on it, waiting for someone to hear his calls.
"Hey! Somebody! Open the door! Let me out!" Frank shouted.
No one could hear his cries, and it was apparent that no one would help him out of his cell. He knew that was not an acceptable answer, so he saw fit to find a new means of escape. The most obvious seemed to remove the door from his path, a task more easier said than done, but it did not stop him from trying.
The door was mostly normal, but reinforced with a solid metal; making this door one that would take much effort to break through with the right tools. Frank had no such tools or even anything to substitute, leaving this option empty. Busting the door down with nothing but his bare hands seemed impossible, but he soon found himself doing so anyway.
Running up to the door, Frank aimed straight for the center, hoping to break the door off its hinges. His move made a large dent in its metal, but not good enough for his goal. Taking a position on the other side of the room, he pressed himself against the wall, and repeated the action.
He repeats again, hitting the door, leaving another dent.
He repeats again, hitting the door, leaving another dent.
He repeats again, hitting the door, leaving another dent.
Finally, with one last rush, he busted the door off the hinges, sending it flying off the hinges and onto the floor. Stepping out from his room, Frank held his head in agony, trying to hold back the pain as he walked, and found himself stumbling to the ground as he did so.
Nonetheless, he still continued on his way to the lab, making his way to the scientists as they continued their experiment. Not expecting the test subject to appear here, especially not after securely locking him inside a room, none of them knew how to take his sudden appearance.
"What-? How did you get in here?" Dr. Combs asked.
"Where is she?" Frank asked.
"Where is-? How did you know someone was here?"
"WHERE IS SHE?!"
Not wanting to upset the undead man any further, Dr. Combs pointed a shaking finger to the observation room, showing the woman inside.
"In there." Dr. Combs said.
"What are you doing to her?" Frank asked.
"The same thing we did to you. We gave you life."
The words were a strange thing to take in for Frank, but they were not the first thing on his mind. The woman in his visions was the first thing on his mind, and made his approach to the glass as the woman continued her suffering. He felt the woman suffer the pain of rebirth, but the visions were not the same as seeing it in person.
He watched the woman in pain, cowering in the corner and beating against her head. He knows the pain she feels not only from experience, but he can feel it as she does. He wants to make the pain stop and go away, and he believes that, inside himself, there is a way to do so.
He does not know how, but he reaches his mind out to the woman's and touches hers.
Please, stop hurting. Frank thought.
The woman's screaming and beating began to slow to a cease; the voice in her head catching her attention. She recognized this voice not only as a sound, but a presence; feeling it as if it were herself. She feels connected to this presence, and turns to come eye-to-eye with the physical form of the presence.
The two meet eyes, and they feel a connection unlike any other.
It is not love.
It is duality. They are one and the same.
The woman picks herself up from the floor, walking up to the glass separating them from each other. Their eyes are stuck in a tight lock, and they share their sights and emotions as one. They operate on one wavelength, and they are completely in sync; a connection far deeper than anything fallible such as love.
The scientists do not feel this emotion, and they cannot possibly understand what is going on between them.
"Doctor... What is going on?" One scientist asked.
Dr. Combs watched the phenomenon in complete and utter disbelief, not knowing what to say to this strange event.
"I... I do not know." Dr. Combs said.
Back inside the base of the Hillwood Heroes...
The undead man and woman are not the only ones who feel this connection; for a moment, Arnold Shortman feels this connection as well. The taste of this connection is a bliss like none other that he has ever seen, and all that he can think about is indulging in this emotional nirvana for eternity.
However, there is a fact that he learns that prevents him from doing so. Just as the man and woman share their visions, he, too, sees what they see as they see it. Before, he had but glimpses into wherever these sensations were coming from, but, now, he knows where they come from.
Most importantly, he starts to learn what they mean.
Gerald, however, does not share his knowledge of this pain or where it comes from. All he knows now is that Arnold has stopped his pained screaming, and his spontaneous breakdown has come to a swift end. He is happy to see his friend no longer suffering, but he still wishes to know what happened.
"Hey Arnold, what was that all about?" Gerald asked.
Following a few deep breaths, Arnold gave an answer to his best friend, now realizing the truth himself.
"I'm not completely sure, but I know two things. One, someone's trying to make Spirit Masters. Two... they're doing it at Membrane Labs." Arnold said.
Elsewhere, far away from any sign of friendship or tampering of the nature of life and death, there is a place of business, and strictly business is what takes place here. The area is a private dock, out of the sight of the law, but suffering its own neglect with poor maintenance and its foundation rotting.
Nonetheless, it serves the purpose of these two parties in a meeting, discussing a job offer. One is the employer, 'Little' Nicky Russotti. The other is the potential employee, a man who needs no introduction. Therefore, 'Little' Nicky does not waste his time with introductions, leading straight to business.
"You've made quite a résumé for yourself, Mr. Rodriguez. From humble beginnings as a skater youth in Ocean Shores, you spent most of your time as a young man committing virtually every crime and civil offense that this country has a law for. Then, following the Ocean Shores Scandal, you managed to make a name for yourself by moving up into the world of supervillains." 'Little' Nicky said.
"I wasn't quite one of these 'supervillain' types then. People were still just starting to get used to the whole 'Hillwood Effect' crap, and I entered the game just before the whole craze hit. Guess you could say I was an evil prick before it was cool." Lars said.
"Yes, of course. I've been watching your career since then with great interest, going from small crimes like attacking a karaoke bar up to being part of the Silver Sentinel Scandal."
"Hey, I never shot that karaoke joint up. I don't know who that prick was, maybe some copy, but it wasn't me; I was in Ecuador at the time. Probably some kind of copy. I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those fag hangouts."
"Right. What interested me most is your... ability to somehow survive some of the most lethal scenarios, but keep on coming back. This a superpower I should know about?"
"Not that I can tell. I guess I must be just the luckiest son of a bitch alive."
"So it seems. Well, I'm looking for a few good people to join my team. I've got a special kind of excursion planned for tourists like you."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"
"Like a chance to fight the Green Eye."
In the shadows concealing his face, Lars gave an amused smile, chuckling at the presented scenario.
"Is that it? Shit, I was gonna do that anyway. I was looking for a good place to stay, somewhere as little like that suburban shithole Royal Woods as possible. I wanted to rip that little Brown Eye bitch up to make up some of my cred. What's the pay?" Lars asked.
"500,000. You take the money, you're in until it's over. Your job's not to kill the Green Eye, but just fight him when I tell you to fight him." 'Little' Nicky said.
"Aw, I can't kill him? What are you, protecting him?"
"No. He's simply in the way and I want him removed, gently."
"And how long do I have to do this for?"
"Not long. Just until I do what I need to do."
"Which is?"
"Not important to you. I'd say the money's far more important, wouldn't you agree."
"Hmm. Yeah, I guess so."
"Well, then, do we have a deal, Mr. Rodriguez?"
Taking a joint of marijuana out of his pocket, Lars took a lighter and ignited the joint, allowing the herb to begin to burn and vaporize. Putting his lips to the joint, Lars took a deep inhale of the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a good 5 seconds, and slowly exhaled the fumes out.
"Just one thing, big boy. I've been doing a lot of thinking. All these badasses with badass powers all have these badass names. I've been wondering, if I'm one of the first guys part of the Hillwood Effect, technically speaking, then shouldn't I have a badass name, too?" Lars asked.
"I suppose you drive a good point. What, then, should I call you, Mr. Rodriguez?" 'Little' Nicky asked.
"Well, you certainly don't call me 'Mr. Rodriguez'. That's my dad, and he's a total pussywhipped faggot. Call me..."
Lars leaned into the light of the room, allowing his face to be shown. His face, in contrast with the darker skin of his body, was a paler tone, but this was not the most important factor. His face had several patches of flesh of different tones stitched across it, as if he were some kind of Frankenstein's monster.
"...El Cucuy." Lars finished.