Admin wrote: Admin wrote: http://balak01.deviantart.com/art/Tough-Job-56963178?q=boost%3Apopular%20henchman&qo=64
HALT! Who goes there! Huh? Oh, hello audience. My name is Rick Jones, otherwise known as "Henchman #675 or more commonly known as, 'you there.'. My job could also be described as a: "goon, scrub, drone small fry, flunkie, pawn, punching bag, mook, grunt, minion, lackey, or an underling." I'm somebody you'd never take a second glance at, the guy the hero rips in half before striking a pose, the guy that people point and laugh at when we stand up to the capes. Yeah, we suck, I suck, but I'll tell you what. Standing up to a super takes balls when you're only weapon is a gun. I am a henchman and this is my story.
Rick held the AK-47 in his hands as he patrolled the dock area with his fellow henchmen. "Anything?" One of them asked.
"Nothing. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and no one will show up."
"Yeah right."
"How's your kid?" Rick asked.
"Good, good. Starting school soon."
"Hey that's great!"
"Yeah...hoping she ends up with a better life then this."
"I'm sure she will man. Just stay positive." Rick said.
"Positive?"
"Positive."
"So what's the boss doing all this for?"
"I don't know, some big machine...I wasn't really paying attention."
"You serious?"
Rick shrugged. "When's the last time a doomsday machine even got the chance to activate?"
"Good point."
"YO! WE GOT INCOMING!"
Rick looked up to see a flying superhero staring down on them. "Ohhhh....great. It's a flier. DUST HIM!" Rick and the others opened fire as one. The bullets pinged off of course, useless against the suprehero. But still, it was important for a henchman to at least make a token effort.
The superhero laughed at them and then flew down at them, tossing the henchmen through the air like ragdolls. Rick caught a blow to his side and felt like he got hit by a car. He was thrown through the air and impacted a shipping container and blacked out.
"....Ick....Rick...Rick! Wake up!"
Rick slowly opened his eyes, his entire body hurt. He didn't want to move and he wasn't even sure if he could anyway. He spit some blood from his mouth. "Ohhh Godddd..."
"Come on man, let's get out of here." Two of his friends helped Rick to his feet and escorted him off the dock. "Did we kill him?"
"Never do."
Rick spit on the ground. "Let's go get wasted...."
At Rick's apartment.....
Rick and his friends were drinking after their most recent loss. Beer as usual and in a small apartment room. "well.....got our a$$es handed to us
again." Snyder sighed. http://dererne.deviantart.com/art/Punk-s-not-dead-206907080?q=boost%3Apopular%20street%20punk&qo=13
"Least we all got out of there this time." Bob pointed out. http://browse.deviantart.com/digitalart/?q=bald+thug#/d18hy1x
"How you feeling there Rick?"
"The beer helps." Rick said as he leaned against the wall and chugged his drink. "Hurts to laugh though."
"Do you think we have a mental problem?" Rick asked.
"Totally." Snyder nodded.
"Good then it's not just me." Rick sat up, wincing at the pain in his body. "Don't you just hate bricks?"
Bob shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it. Henchmen exist to get beat up by heroes."
Rick held the cold beer bottle to his head. "We should change that."
"How?"
"I don't know. I'm gonna go pick up more beer." He said and chugged his down.
"You gonna be okay?"
"Dude it's right down the block." Rick said and grabbed his coat. "I can walk there. BRB guys."
His friends waved and Rick walked out, covering up his costume with the coat. This would be good. It gave him time to think as he headed to the corner store.
Henchmen exist to get beat up by superheroes. Rick replayed that thought in his mind over and over again. As a career henchman himself, he was all too familiar with his place in the world. The question then was, what to do about it? Bullets were never any good on meta's and the ones that you could shoot always sucker punched you from the shadows. Rick made a note to figure this out later. He walked into the store and began looking for his usual six packs when he heard some commotion at the counter. An idiot had pulled out a handgun and was holding up the cashier. Rick silently slid a bottle of vodka off the shelf and hid it behind his back. Judging by the look of the mugger, he was a wannabe gangster. Rick normally didn't bother with them, he was a criminal himself after all, but he knew the cashier and he liked the guy, so maybe just this once, he would play 'hero'.
Rick moved quietly. When the gangster turned, Rick hid behind a row and then started moving again quietly and then broke into a run. Just as he was turning around again, Rick smacked him on the side of his head with the bottle, causing him to scream in pain and fall to the ground from the unexpected attack. Rick then stomped on his gun hand and then kicked it away before kicking the thug in the ribs a couple times before knocking him the hell out with another smack of the bottle. Finished, he searched his pockets, took out his wallet, took the money and then dropped the wallet back on him. Rick put the bottle on the counter.
"Hi. You okay?"
"Yeah....you?"
"Oh. Totally." Rick smiled and whistled to himself as he went and got his six packs and some food. "How much?"
"On the house."
"Thank you. Peace out!"
Rick got all of the stuff in a bag and walked back to the apartment while the cashier called the police.