“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t think it through.” Oculor griped to the bank manager as he sliced into the vault door with his optic laser. “The man has absolutely no sense of protocol! You simply do not just hit someone mid-gloat. You didn’t trip the silent alarm, did you?”
“I, um, I’m afraid I did.” The manager wrung his hands, grinning sheepishly.
“Ah, no matter. So anyway, I have to regroup now, which brings us to my little transaction here. I just need to make a withdrawal to fund my latest scheme. You might wanna stand back.”
Oculor yanked the heavy round door from its melted hinges with his tractor beam, casually folding his hands behind his back as he moved the door out of the way and dropped it, shattering the linoleum floor.
Meanwhile, the bank patrons and tellers were all lying facedown on the floor, patiently waiting until the siege ended. The citizens of Huge City were quite used to being caught in bank robberies, especially ones by supervillains.
“Twice in the same day?” A familiar voice caused Oculor to swing his head around 180 degrees.
Standing in the doorway, his cape blowing in an inexplicable breeze, was Ultimate Man. His suit was red with gold trim, gold boots and a golden cape. Anyone watching the scene from the window of a commercial airliner could get that he was a superhero.
“If you wanted to talk,” Ultimate Man said, “you could’ve just called.”
“Oh, it’s you.” Oculor swung his head back around and resumed collecting the money. “Nice trick, by the way, taking advantage of a blind man. Real heroic.”
“Says the man with the hostages.” Ultimate Man jerked his head toward the tile-hugging patrons.
“I didn’t tell them to do that!” Carrying a sack full of loot, Oculor stomped over to Ultimate Man. “They did that all by themselves! They all could’ve left and made individual police reports if they wanted to! Super villain, remember?” Oculor jammed his thumb into his chest. “As in, can only be defeated by a super hero. I never know what to do with hostages. I always think I should go around and get their contact information.”
“Well, I’m here now, so give me the money and leave while you can still walk.” Ultimate Man held his hand out, as if expecting a wad of chewing gum from a child.
“Or, how about you let me take the money, or I’ll vaporize one of these hostages.”
“I thought you said they weren’t your hostages.”
Oculor shrugged. “Well, they’re here, it’d be a shame to waste them.”
Ultimate Man rolled his eyes. “Look, Ockie, why do we always do this? I’m not one of these other chumps in tights, all right? You’re talkin’ to Ultimate Man. You know I’d rip that dome off of your neck and Frisbee it to the nearest penthouse apartment before you could get one shot off.”
Oculor drew himself up to his full height and folded his arms. “You seem to have also forgotten whom you are dealing wi—is it ‘who’ or ‘whom’? I can never remember.”
“I think it’s ‘whom.’”
“YOU,” Oculor said, restarting, “have also forgotten whom you are dealing with! You’d have to find me in order to knock my block off, Ultimate Man.”
Ultimate Man looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist. “Wow, is it National Crazy Day already? I don’t have to find you, you’re right in front of me.”
“Am I?” Oculor flickered, like a…well, like a hologram.
Ultimate Man looked over at the bank vault and saw the hologram projector. It switched itself off, revealing that Oculor and the money he had already taken was just an illusion.
“He came in an hour ago,” the manager said, still wringing his hands as he tiptoed over to Ultimate Man. “He told us he would still be watching, and that he would vaporize anyone who gave it away.”
“UGH!” Ultimate Man shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. “And there goes the rest of my day.”
To be continued...
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Meeting Crasher
“And that,” Mike said, addressing his board of directors, “is why we don’t need quite so many trees in the rain forest as some ‘experts’—” he made air quotes, “would have you believe. You ask me, that whole place was a little overgrown to start with. What we’re doing is basically, I dunno…” he searched for a word that could sprinkle the right amount of glitter on the manure pile he just laid on the conference table, “…landscaping.”
The hoary-headed directors, agape with astonishment and not a little respect for someone who would actually have a go at positively spinning deforestation, considered what they had just heard. “Uh, Mike,” one of them said, pushing up his glasses, “we’re with you a hundred percent on this—”
“You’d better be,” Mike chuckled. “This company’s called MikeCo. Kinda implies that I run it.”
“Of course. But we are concerned with warming up our public image. Our customers need to know that MikeCo is a company that cares.”
“Yeah, you have a point there.” Mike tapped his chin for a moment, staring off into space. “Got it. We put something on the labels, like, ‘a portion of the proceeds go to’—you know, some disease. Wilson, find out what new diseases are out there and pick the most popular one.”
Wilson, a weasel-faced man at the far end of the conference table, nodded and jotted down something on his notepad.
“We’re gonna put that on the website, too,” Mike said, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah, I wanna be all about that disease.”
“Mr. Michaelson.” Mike’s assistant spoke over the intercom. “There’s an Oculor here to see you, something about pulverizing you into dust.”
Mike sighed, ran a hand through his blond hair. “Ugh, are you serious? He actually came here. Can you tell him to wait until after my meeting?”
“I did,” the assistant said. “He says you can make time for your arch-nemesis.”
“Enough of this!”
The doors of the conference room burst open, revealing the imposing form of Oculor. He stood seven feet tall, wearing purple armor, a flowing black cape and a giant dome for a head. Where Oculor’s face should be was a trapezoidal grill and a single robotic eye. “I grow weary of these games, Ultimate Man,” he said, pointing at Mike. “Your swift demise awaits!”
“Can it ‘await’ until I’m done here?”
“No. And neither can your friends, apparently.”
Mike took a moment to consider his surroundings, and the empty, spinning chairs around the conference table. He snapped his fingers. “Never should’ve had all those escape exits installed. Now I guess I’ll have to deal with you.”
“Deal? Why don’t you DEAL with this!”
A column of bluish-white energy burst out of Oculor’s eye and impacted with Mike’s torso, sending him crashing through the window behind him and into the window of another building, demolishing a row of filing cabinets and flattening a cubicle, sending a computer and a very disconcerted accountant skittering across the floor.
Oculor shouted at Mike from the window of the MikeCo building. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you just get blasted into another building? IN YOUR FACE! IN YOUR FA—oh crap he’s coming back…” Oculor jumped to one side as Mike flew back across the way and into the conference room, skidding to a stop on the table.
“That window’s coming outta your allowance,” Mike said, jumping down from the table.
“As you can see,” Oculor said, inspecting his nonexistent fingernails, “I’ve improved my optic beam. Now, I have twice the power of a—”
Mike punched Oculor in the eye, shattering the lens.
“HEY!” Oculor clapped a hand over his face, making a loud clang sound. “Do you know how long that upgrade took?”
“I don’t. And in related news, I don’t care either.”
Oculor waved his free hand around, reaching for Mike’s face. “You don’t just sucker punch a guy mid-gloat! I could be giving you important information! Isn’t that one of your superhero rules?”
Mike straightened out his singed tie. “No. Oculor, when you come to my office, it is embarrassing and rude. Now get out and don’t come back unless you have an appointment or a plan that goes beyond just shooting at me.”
“All right.” Oculor hung his head, and started to walk away, when he remembered something. “Um, I can’t, you know, see. So, could you, maybe…”
“Oh, sure, pal.” Mike put his hand on Oculor’s shoulder and led him to the window. “The exit’s right this way. Yeah, just keep going straight.”
The hoary-headed directors, agape with astonishment and not a little respect for someone who would actually have a go at positively spinning deforestation, considered what they had just heard. “Uh, Mike,” one of them said, pushing up his glasses, “we’re with you a hundred percent on this—”
“You’d better be,” Mike chuckled. “This company’s called MikeCo. Kinda implies that I run it.”
“Of course. But we are concerned with warming up our public image. Our customers need to know that MikeCo is a company that cares.”
“Yeah, you have a point there.” Mike tapped his chin for a moment, staring off into space. “Got it. We put something on the labels, like, ‘a portion of the proceeds go to’—you know, some disease. Wilson, find out what new diseases are out there and pick the most popular one.”
Wilson, a weasel-faced man at the far end of the conference table, nodded and jotted down something on his notepad.
“We’re gonna put that on the website, too,” Mike said, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah, I wanna be all about that disease.”
“Mr. Michaelson.” Mike’s assistant spoke over the intercom. “There’s an Oculor here to see you, something about pulverizing you into dust.”
Mike sighed, ran a hand through his blond hair. “Ugh, are you serious? He actually came here. Can you tell him to wait until after my meeting?”
“I did,” the assistant said. “He says you can make time for your arch-nemesis.”
“Enough of this!”
The doors of the conference room burst open, revealing the imposing form of Oculor. He stood seven feet tall, wearing purple armor, a flowing black cape and a giant dome for a head. Where Oculor’s face should be was a trapezoidal grill and a single robotic eye. “I grow weary of these games, Ultimate Man,” he said, pointing at Mike. “Your swift demise awaits!”
“Can it ‘await’ until I’m done here?”
“No. And neither can your friends, apparently.”
Mike took a moment to consider his surroundings, and the empty, spinning chairs around the conference table. He snapped his fingers. “Never should’ve had all those escape exits installed. Now I guess I’ll have to deal with you.”
“Deal? Why don’t you DEAL with this!”
A column of bluish-white energy burst out of Oculor’s eye and impacted with Mike’s torso, sending him crashing through the window behind him and into the window of another building, demolishing a row of filing cabinets and flattening a cubicle, sending a computer and a very disconcerted accountant skittering across the floor.
Oculor shouted at Mike from the window of the MikeCo building. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you just get blasted into another building? IN YOUR FACE! IN YOUR FA—oh crap he’s coming back…” Oculor jumped to one side as Mike flew back across the way and into the conference room, skidding to a stop on the table.
“That window’s coming outta your allowance,” Mike said, jumping down from the table.
“As you can see,” Oculor said, inspecting his nonexistent fingernails, “I’ve improved my optic beam. Now, I have twice the power of a—”
Mike punched Oculor in the eye, shattering the lens.
“HEY!” Oculor clapped a hand over his face, making a loud clang sound. “Do you know how long that upgrade took?”
“I don’t. And in related news, I don’t care either.”
Oculor waved his free hand around, reaching for Mike’s face. “You don’t just sucker punch a guy mid-gloat! I could be giving you important information! Isn’t that one of your superhero rules?”
Mike straightened out his singed tie. “No. Oculor, when you come to my office, it is embarrassing and rude. Now get out and don’t come back unless you have an appointment or a plan that goes beyond just shooting at me.”
“All right.” Oculor hung his head, and started to walk away, when he remembered something. “Um, I can’t, you know, see. So, could you, maybe…”
“Oh, sure, pal.” Mike put his hand on Oculor’s shoulder and led him to the window. “The exit’s right this way. Yeah, just keep going straight.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back, you know, maybe tomorrow or something, when I have a—‘cause you were right about that plan, it was somewhat lacking in complexity. It’s just that I was so excited about the new beam, and I AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Mike clapped his hands together, listening to the earth-shaking thud of Oculor’s body hitting the pavement, followed by a loud "OW!" and a chorus of agitated car alarms. He pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Miss Davis, call my incredibly brave executives and tell them that we still have a meeting to finish? Thanks.”
To be continued...
Mike clapped his hands together, listening to the earth-shaking thud of Oculor’s body hitting the pavement, followed by a loud "OW!" and a chorus of agitated car alarms. He pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Miss Davis, call my incredibly brave executives and tell them that we still have a meeting to finish? Thanks.”
To be continued...
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Intro to Ultimate Man Studies 101
Dear Sir or Madam:
Congratulations! Whether by accident or on purpose, you have reached my fiction blog. By now, you might be feeling a bit mislead, as this first entry is not fiction at all. But rest assured, mis compadres, the next one most assuredly will be. I'm using this entry to explain myself, and why I have the audacity to name my blog "The Ultimate Man Chronicles."
Ultimate Man is a novel that I wrote and self-published, involving a self-absorbed superhero, i.e. Ultimate Man, and the wacky hijinks that take place in the huge city that he defends, appropriately named Huge City. Ultimate Man's alter ego is billionaire Mike Michaelson, who has little regard for the concept of the "secret identity." He doesn't wear glasses as Mike, he doesn't wear a mask as Ultimate Man. Basically, everyone knows who he is at all times. The way he sees it, the media doesn't hound Mike any less than Ultimate Man, so what's the point?
Sometimes Ultimate Man saves the day in grand heroic fashion, sometimes he screws up with an equally spectacular flair. Either way, he'll make it sound eleven times better than it really was. Adding to the dramatis personae are his overworked butler, Phillips, his arch-nemesis Oculor, and a host of other heroes and villains.
This blog is basically a way to introduce the citizenry of the web to the universe of Ultimate Man. It is a serialized prequel to the book--not in any way necessary to understanding the novel, it is merely a supplement. Hopefully, as these stories progress, you'll become interested enough to keep tuning in AND, of course, to buy the novel, available at BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, and the publishing website, http://www.authorhouse.com/. If you log on to Author House, you can read an excerpt from the novel and a little blurb about yours truly. If you're going the Amazon route, it's best to search for my name (Nathaniel L. Williams) as opposed to the title of the book.
Comments are welcome, criticism of my flagrant self-promotion is also welcome but will fall on deaf ears. If possible, limit your comments to unmitigated praise and adulation.
Until next time,
Nate
Congratulations! Whether by accident or on purpose, you have reached my fiction blog. By now, you might be feeling a bit mislead, as this first entry is not fiction at all. But rest assured, mis compadres, the next one most assuredly will be. I'm using this entry to explain myself, and why I have the audacity to name my blog "The Ultimate Man Chronicles."
Ultimate Man is a novel that I wrote and self-published, involving a self-absorbed superhero, i.e. Ultimate Man, and the wacky hijinks that take place in the huge city that he defends, appropriately named Huge City. Ultimate Man's alter ego is billionaire Mike Michaelson, who has little regard for the concept of the "secret identity." He doesn't wear glasses as Mike, he doesn't wear a mask as Ultimate Man. Basically, everyone knows who he is at all times. The way he sees it, the media doesn't hound Mike any less than Ultimate Man, so what's the point?
Sometimes Ultimate Man saves the day in grand heroic fashion, sometimes he screws up with an equally spectacular flair. Either way, he'll make it sound eleven times better than it really was. Adding to the dramatis personae are his overworked butler, Phillips, his arch-nemesis Oculor, and a host of other heroes and villains.
This blog is basically a way to introduce the citizenry of the web to the universe of Ultimate Man. It is a serialized prequel to the book--not in any way necessary to understanding the novel, it is merely a supplement. Hopefully, as these stories progress, you'll become interested enough to keep tuning in AND, of course, to buy the novel, available at BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, and the publishing website, http://www.authorhouse.com/. If you log on to Author House, you can read an excerpt from the novel and a little blurb about yours truly. If you're going the Amazon route, it's best to search for my name (Nathaniel L. Williams) as opposed to the title of the book.
Comments are welcome, criticism of my flagrant self-promotion is also welcome but will fall on deaf ears. If possible, limit your comments to unmitigated praise and adulation.
Until next time,
Nate
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