"We need a scapegoat," Dark Man blew out the last bit of smoke from the last of his cigarettes, and stamped it out in the ashtray and immediately felt his pockets for a fresh pack of cigarettes. He found a fresh pack of cigarette in his jacket pocket, opened the wrapper and pulled out a cigarette. He flicked his gold-plated lighter and held the flame up to the cigarette.

 "Agreed." Fat Man randomly pulled a piece of fried chicken out of the bucket of chicken, held it up to his mouth and inhaled with a great slurping noise.

 "Must you do that?" Dark Man blew smoke into Fat Man's face.

 "Gentlemen," Gray Man interceeded, "we are NOT a bunch of young men."

 "Speaking of young men," Fat man looked over at the empty seat, "where is our bright young man?"

 "He, of course, is our scapegoat." Dark Man smiled insidiously.

 "Awww." Fat man said before slurping up a slug from his bottle of Ultra-Cola. "He seemed so-o promising."

 "But if you were to take a look at his record, you would notice he previously worked for our rivals." Dark Man stopped to take a drag. "And in fact still does."

 "That bit of information seamlessly inserted by you of course." asked Gray Man.

 "Of course."

 "In what way do you plan to get rid of him?"

 "The only way that I ever deal with spies." Dark Man slid his finger across his neck.

 "Who will we trust enough to do the dirty work?"

 "I have hired a killer for that, and one that will never be traced to us..."

 "Because, officially he was hired by our rivals to terminate him themselves when his mission had come to a conclusion, correct?"

 "Very good."

 "When is his termination going to take place?" Gray Man asked.

 "His head should be falling to the floor in a minute or two."

 After coming to an understanding, she stayed on, and became his personal secretary. Occasionally, to boost his confidence, she would let him play touchy-feely with her, but never funsie-pokie.

 That brought her up to today, she had just finished filing away all of the paperwork for the day, when the door burst open.

 "Um," she looked up at the hulkish figure that easily towered over her by about two feet, "do you have an appointment?"

 "Me got no business with you!" The Hulk pushed his way past.

 "You can't just go in there without an appointment!"

 "Me will take just a minute!" The hulk pulled out an obnoxiously huge gun.

 "Oh GOD!" She reached for one of the swords that decorated the walls.

 It hasn't been working. He's so tense that when someone enters his office, he literally jumps a foot in the air before turning.

 "You! What the cruk are you doing h--"

 There is a wetly organic sound. The sort of sound the head makes when it is no longer attached to the body.

 "AYEE!" Young Man cried out in horror as the head of the Hulk rolled across the floor and came to rest on the paste-on hole in the center of the rug, the hole that just seconds ago he was trying to put a golf ball into.

 The body was still standing, rocking back and forth, then came to rest in a fully erect position. For the moment.

 "Look out!" Mary cried out, as the headless hulk came rocking towards Young Man, and the open window behind him.

 "Help me boost his fall towards the window!" Young Man rushed to Mary's side, stepped back a little and prepared to charge the dead body that was still standing and squirting blood all over the room.

 "Why, he's already gotten the room messy."

 "Just do as I say." Young Man rushed forward, and with a little help from Mary, tumbled the headless, bleeding hulk out the 300th story window of the immense building.

 "How do you like it?" Dark Man asked Gray Man.

 "Ni-i-ice."

 "Just got it from the dealer today, with all of the special add-ons. I have a special servant who'll do NOTHING but keep the car spotless. Nothing's going to touch THIS baby!" Dark Man looked up. "What the cruk?"

 The headless body of the hulk came speeding down at them at a tremendous speed and did a belly-flop on the top of the golden car, crushing it like a trash-compactor was hard at work.

 All Dark Man could do was stand there with his mouth dragging against the sidewalk, and his eyes slowly moving upwards.

 "Feel better?"

 "Of course!"

 "Well, I think we should gather together our personal belongings and get the cruk out of here! Find someplace safe to go, like a whole other planet!"

 "I'm sure we can steal a seat on the next shuttle off of this mud-ball!"

 As soon as the door opened, the smell of blood filled her nostrils, she saw the body sprawled out along the bed, the open unresting eyes staring at the ceiling.

 "Oh my God he's dead!" She reached for her personal com-link unit, flicked a switch and began to cry into it. "Get security up here right away, there's a dead body in room 1313."

 "CRUK! Are you sure it's a dead body?"

 "Just get the cruk up here!"

 "UNGHHHH!" The body -- Jason -- moaned out. "H-help m-me!"

 "Oh, Cruk!" She cursed to herself, before speaking into the link.

 "Wait, he's alive, but barely."

 "Okay, a medic'll be right up," the voice crackled out over the com-link. "And for crukin' God's sake, don't touch a crukin' thing this crukin' time!"

 "Sure!"

 "Listen," Doyle looked a little pissed, "you said you were going to help me find my boyfriend."

 "Excuse me?" Benny placed her expresso down on the tiny table with a thud.

 "You heard me--."

 "What the cruk do you think I was doing for the past three hours, running up a vid-phone bill with the hospitals and regeneration stations for nothing?"

 "Well--." Doyle sighed, then plopped back in her chair. "I'm sorry. It's just the longer thet I go without hearing from him, the more I think he may have crawled into a back alleyway and died."

 "I'll find him for you," Benny assured Doyle, "I promise, and it'll be before I leave this God-forsaken planet."

 "You sure?"

 "Yeah, it may be in the last moment before I board that shuttle off of this overgrown rock-slide, but I will find him."

 "Excellent!" Doyle whispered, as a somewhat sinister smile came to her face, so far, despite the delays, her plans were working perfectly.

 It was well over twelve hours ago that she was chased into the dead-end alleyway, and found her way into a broken window of one of the old-style buildings. Luckily for her, the rafters were just far enough apart for her to (somewhat uncomfortably) slip in and hide between the pipes and the ceiling.

 Above her, she heard all kinds of noises from a man screwing a woman on the floor, to children watching their morning cartoons. She was put to sleep by the sweet aroma of marijuana drifting through the house, and wakened by the smell of bacon sizzling in the frying pan.

 She was tortured by the fact that she couldn't partake of any of the festivities, even the cartoons. Oh, to sit down and watch cartoons and eat bacon like any normal 12 year old made her want to cry, but she couldn't, her tear ducts were cut away from her when she had that body alteration at eight.

 She casually peeked out the window to see if the man who had chased her down there was still there. She knew he didn't want to "play" with her like the other men did, rather she saw something . . . or rather he thought she saw something that she wasn't supposed to. But what?

 Whatever it was, she really didn't see a thing.

 Deciding the man was long gone, she made herself out into the alleyway, lit a cigarette and proceeded to the end. She barely reached the middle of the alleyway, when she saw a man laying on the pavement, rather on top of a pile of garbage. She stopped to look at him.

 His combined oriental features made him look unique, yet famailar, she had seen this man on one or two occasions, but he wasn't one of the ones who "played" with her. It took her a moment to remember . . . he was a famous singer. Had he lost everything, and was now relying on the money in his pockets, and the shirt on his back?

 No, there was something wrong with him, and as she inadvertantly placed her hand on the wound, she realized he was shot.

 "Somebody . . . help! He's been shot! HELP!"

 TO BE CONTINUED . . .