Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Sergent Sargent's Horse Power:Rise of An Old Breed Day 3


Severn Town, Pennsylvania

Dr.Darren Drake has been practicing medicine in Severn since 1955. As far as
everyone knows he arrived in Severn right out of medical school. Besides his graying hair, Dr.Drake looks remarkably young.

Right now he sits in his office waiting for the day to begin. Every morning he gets
to his office before sunrise and leaves after sunset. His staff credits it to his old
fashion work ethic. His nurse enters his office interrupting this train of thought.

"Dr.Drake, two elderly gentlemen insist on seeing you."

Dr.Drake finds the idea of two old men needing to see him odd. They could not
possibly be patients.

"Send them in."

The two men enter the office. One man is tall and lanky, wearing a suit that might
have been fashionable in the first World War. His partner is a short looking
simpleton. With uncombed red hair and freckles.

"Gentlemen what business do you have with me?"

The tall one speaks quickly.

"Can the act Dracula!!"

Dr.Drake tenses up before appearing to relax.

"I'm sorry sir, you have me confused with someone else."

"Like fun I do. You are the War Criminal known as Dr.Dracula. I'm the Missile
Miser and this man is Gentleman Brute. We did freelance work with your group

Dr.Drake is filled with frustration but he never expresses it.

"Gentlemen allow me to get you a cab back to your rest home. I must
prepare for my day."

He places his hands on the shoulders of the old men and push them out the door.
Outside in the hall, the short red headed man speaks to his partner.

"Golly Miser, maybe that weren't a Dr.Dracula."

"No Brute, that was the Doctor. His grip felt like cold death. The Old Breed does
not need the Doctor to function. There are more names on my list."


Bangkok, Thailand

The two elderly men enter the bar known as the Dragon's Tongue. Despite their
advanced age, the men show no fear at the hostile environment. A young man with
a pink mohawk approaches them with a knife in his hand.

"Don't you know there is a cover charge for tourist?"

The tall elderly man known as the Missile Miser presses a button on his wrist
and fires a rocket at the man with the pink mohawk, knocking him thru the wall.

"Forgot my wallet."

A man in a cheap suit approaches the pair.

"Come with me, the boss is interested in seeing you."

They go into the back room where they see two grotesque bird creatures
guarding a man covered in a veiled bed. The man speaks with a strange high
pitched voice.

"Greetings...Missile Miser....."

"This is Gentleman Brute in his normal form. He's trying to avoid taking the
Brute Serum as long as possible."

"Howdy, ya see, I got the diabeetus and Miser told me...."

The man behind the veil speaks again.

"Yes...yes.....I   understand  being  ravaged  by  disease."

The veil is pulled back and the Silver Talon is exposed. Where once a man existed, now stands a unholy hybrid of man and bird. His skin not quite scale but no longer flesh. Patches of his skin are now coal black. Missile Miser is unfazed by this, but Gentleman Brute grows ill.

"Now what business do you have with the Silver Talon?"


The Island of Ricca

Gentleman Brute after the experience in Thailand, has returned home to
Alabama, promising to return once the recruiting is over.

Missile Miser himself has dreaded this. He worked for Claw once in 1948,
and it was far from a pleasant experience. So he understands why Brute rather
hide at home. Honestly Miser had his doubts he could find him, he was fortunate
that Silver Talon possessed his last known address.

Missile Miser arrives at the address, but he can't believe this
is correct. Instead of a large fortress he finds an apartment complex. He goes up
to apartment 78A and hopes he can find him.

A minute after knocking, the door is opened. Missile Miser is taken back by
the sight before him. Master Claw, referred to as the God of Hate by the
people of Ricca, stands before him in a Hawaiian Shirt and Khaki Shorts.


Missile Miser is starting to sweat. Something the scorching heat of Ricca had
failed to do til now.

"Sir I am putting together a team and you are a vital part of it."


Inside the Missile Miser sees a tiny apartment filled to the brim with several life times of memories. Newspapers with headlines dedicated to his reign of terror. In the center of the room is a massive throne, that sits in front of a fifteen inch television.

The over seven foot Claw sits in the throne and looks sternly at the Missile Miser.


Miser is shocked that the Claw remembers him.


"I am sure you keep up with the news. You see the new age of villainy. It is a disgrace. I want to form a mighty alliance and bring this planet to its knees."


Missile Miser is surprised Claw agreed so quickly.

"I see by the look on your face you are surprised. Since the great battle of Ricca, I've allowed myself to be held back. Allowed this mockery of a truce to exist. I set aside my robes and power, settling for this life of mediocrity. But The Claw is immortal. That is what the fools who attacked me would never understand. I would accept defeat today, for they will be dead tomorrow.

With each passing generation, the fear in the eyes of the children fades away. That will make my return all the sweeter. Miser I will allow you to serve me. Return to the United States and prepare for my arrival."

Missile Miser leaves the apartment happy, afraid and with a nagging thought.

"Allow me to serve him?"


The office of Doctor Darren Drake.

The doctor watches a small television in his office. On it is the latest episode of Captain Battle and The Ultra Battlers. Thinking of the name causes his stomach to burn.

He watches as the man carrying the Battle name battles a vampire robot with comically large fangs. The robot struggles to remove them from a large piece of garlic.

"Sorry Mr.Fang, I guess your bite is worse than your bark."

Dr.Drake stands up.

"You will pay for this a front to Mr.Fang."

Drake places his hand over the hole in his torso.

"Hope you take checks Fang."

Dr.Drake screams and punches a hole thru the television.

No comments:

Post a Comment