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  An Honest Living

  Maxima City Talent

  Vol. 2

  Ben Mariner

  An Honest Living

  Copyright © 2019, Ben Mariner

  All rights reserved.

  Unauthorized distribution or reproduction is strictly prohibited.

  The following is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and brands are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living, dead, or the living dead, is entirely coincidental or used with permission

  The following work is a satirical parody of comic book superheroes. While the author and editors, have a pretty expansive knowledge of the genre, it is by no means exhaustive. We have done our best to ensure our characters do not infringe upon the rights of others. If you believe that we have inadvertently used a name you hold the rights to, please feel free to contact the author or editor to let us know. We are flexible and willing to make changes and would rather not be sued.

  Maxima City Talent Series Copyright 2016-2019 Christina McMullen. Permission to use and expand upon the existing property is granted to Ben Mariner for this volume with no implied ownership. In other words, Mariner is the sole copyright holder for An Honest Living while Maxima City Talent is the intellectual property of McMullen.

  Cover art, Layout and Design by Christina McMullen with the creative consultation of CB Archer.

  Other books by Ben Mariner

  The Many Lives of Zane Montgomery

  Apocalypse Wow Series

  Apocalypse Wow

  Apocalypse Wow 2: Apocalypse Wower

  Apocalypse Wow 3: Back in the Habit

  Tales of Cubonia

  The Golden Hourglass

  Hero Chronicles

  Hero’s Call

  ONE

  I loved pulling jobs when the weather was nice. It wasn’t often nice. Not in Maxima City. It was usually hotter than Nocturno’s leather clad buttocks. But every once in a while, when the sun was down and the moon was high up over the city, a cool breeze would blow through the streets and make things seem almost bearable. This was the perfect city for ice talents like my sis. Can’t get hot when you can drop your body temp in the blink of an eye. But for big lugs like me, the heat was rough.

  It only got worse when you were assigned to a job headed up by a fire talent. She hadn’t shown up yet, though, so I could enjoy the cool evening breeze. The rest of the crew hadn’t shown either. Leave it to ol’ Lane to be the first one to the scene of a future crime. Maxima City Bank and Trust was looming over the street like a massive ivory and bronze sentry who didn’t seem to care if anyone came or went. In a different life, I could have been an architect, I think. Blueprints and whatnot. Could’ve been fun.

  I took a sip of latte to let the caffeine keep me on my toes. I had gotten plenty of sleep last night, but when you’re on a job you needed to be alert. Some ‘Fig could come along at any minute. If they caught you while you were sleeping, it was bad news. Honestly, the ‘Fig probably wouldn’t do a whole lot. It was the Mals that would be upset. I wouldn’t be caught dead sleeping at my desk at Winfield. I wouldn’t be caught dead on a job for Take.

  Can you be caught dead sleeping? Is that a thing?

  I finished off the coffee and tossed the cup in a nearby dumpster. I could have just tossed it aside, but just because I was a Mal didn’t mean I had to be a litterbug. We all lived on this planet. We could at least keep it clean.

  A small group of people rounded the corner at the end of the block.

  I tensed up and tried to step back into the shadows. Not that it did much good. There weren’t a lot of shadows that could conceal a guy like me. I could barely fit in the alley. A quick peek out showed me that it was the rest of the crew I had been waiting for. I stepped out and greeted them with a wave of my massive hand. A round of greetings went out, but before we could say much more, I felt the cool breeze receding and a wave of heat coming my way.

  Show time.

  I turned around just in time to see the leader of this little heist round the corner. Roller Blaze - real name was Jane Rave, no joke - was a fire talent who had an affinity for roller derby. She was a scrappy little thing in a red plaid skirt, a black tank top with a flaming wheel logo on the chest, elbow and knee pads, and a pair of roller skates that left tracks of flames in her wake. When she was off duty, Blaze had an undercut of red hair, but for now it was hidden under a black helmet with flames painted on the side.

  “Howdy, boys,” she said, grinding to a halt and flicking embers onto my pant leg. She winked at me from behind a pair of thick black framed glasses. “Who’s ready to get rich?”

  I actually liked working with Blaze. She was pretty cool on or off the job due to a penchant for violence and an ambiguous sexuality. You never knew if she was going to punch you in the face for a laugh or kiss you just to see the look on your face. We hooked up once a few years ago, but I think a lot of that was just the adrenaline high of a near death situation...that Blaze put us in. We’d been pretty close ever since, but just as friends which was fine with me.

  “Where do you want us?” I asked, ignoring her question. Assuming some ‘Fig didn’t get involved - fat chance in that happening - the only person who stood to get rich was Blaze. That’s just how it worked. The leader of the heist got the score, and the thugs get their normal hourly rate. If you wanted a cut, you had to get up in the ranks, which wasn’t likely to happen for this guy.

  “You two,” Blaze said, pointing to two masked thugs. “Up on the roof, deal with the security system.” They nodded and ran off across the street to go about their task. “You’re with me. I need someone to carry the bags.” The other henchman nodded and moved to her side. “And you…” Blaze said, poking me in the chest and playfully running her finger down my torso. “You’re on look-out.”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  Lookout again. Came with the territory when your talent was more or less useless.

  Blaze and the thug hurried across the street and I stepped back into the alley. There was a walkie in my pocket, but I wouldn’t need it. MCPD wouldn’t show up. Not for this. Even if they hadn’t been bribed to stay out of it, which they had, the cops didn’t mess around with talent. They were just ill-equipped. If anyone was coming to stop us, it was a ‘Fig. And if a ‘Fig showed up, a radio wasn’t going to help. A fight would break out before I even got the walkie out of my pocket. So I was going to wait.

  Luckily, it didn’t take long. I was just standing there, minding my own business, when the unmistakable sound of a jet engine cut through the quiet night air. I wouldn’t have paid it any mind except it was too loud, too close. Either a plane was crashing in the middle of the city or we were about to be in trouble. I stepped out of the alley and pulled the walkie out of my pocket. I didn’t have time to warn anyone what was coming because, in all honesty, I didn’t know what was coming. It was too big and loud to be a bird, too small to be any kind of aircraft, and too damn dark to be sure of anything. It looked like a robot, which wouldn’t be completely unusual for Maxima City. The figure streaked across the sky, hovered above the bank’s massive dome glass ceiling, and unceremoniously dropped in for a visit.

  “Ah, hell,” I groaned before sprinting across the street and bursting through the front door.

  The sounds of fireballs and gunfire mixed with firing pistons and spinning servos was echoing off the walls of the bank when I got inside. The thug that was supposed to help Blaze carry the bags came crashing through the wall, bags and all. Money spilled out everywhere. I paused for just a moment to stuff a few hundred bucks into my pocket before leaping through the newly made door. A cloud of dust from the damaged masonry was choking the lobb
y, but I could still see what was going on.

  There was a robot in the middle of the room standing at least seven feet tall. Its purple and silver plating was somehow shimmering in the smoky atmosphere and had a decidedly feminine form. I could see two lights in the shape of eyes following Blaze around the room as she zipped back and forth, hurling flames at the shiny chassis to no effect. The bot fired energy blasts from arm cannons, but Blaze was too fast. She’d been around the rink enough to know how to effectively maneuver in a small space like this to avoid taking a debilitating blow.

  “Suck flame, gearhead!” Blaze roared. She managed to get around behind the robot and unleashed a full torrent of flame into its back. The bot turned slowly as if Blaze was nothing more than a pesky gnat and raised its arm cannons. Blaze couldn’t see what was going on due to the size of the flame she was letting out. I had to act fast.

  I didn’t have super speed or super strength. I couldn’t fly or shoot lasers out of my nips. My talent was much more subtle and much less practical in most situations. Except for this one. I ran forward as fast as I could and leapt into the line of fire. Blaze’s heat washed over me as the energy blasts collided with my chest and sent me sailing across the room, crashing into one of the marble pillars. I hit the ground and felt the shattered stone rain down on top of me.

  But I was fine. That was the beauty of it. I barely even felt it. Gotta love that talent.

  When I stood back up, both Blaze and the bot were looking at me expectantly. Blaze knew well enough that I wasn’t hurt, but even the bot’s stoic mask seemed to be concerned about my well-being.

  “Go!” I shouted at Blaze. “I’ll hold it off!”

  Blaze winked, nodded, and tossed one last fireball at the bot before shooting off toward the entrance. The bot watched her go before turning to me.

  “Any chance we can just go our separate ways?” I asked with a shrug.

  It raised its arm cannons in reply.

  That’s how it was going to be. Fine.

  I ducked one shot which was hard enough being my size, but the second shot hit me in the shoulder, spinning me like a top. I stopped turning just in time to see the bot leap off the ground in a high arc and come screaming down through the air with its fist raised. The metal was exactly as hard as it looked when it connected with my jaw and drove me into the ground, leaving a crater in the floor.

  I waved the dust out of my face only to see the bot’s thrusters firing up and taking it back up through the hole it created in the ceiling and disappearing into the night. I hauled myself up to my feet and dusted myself off. Blaze was gone. The other thugs were down. And the mystery robot had wreaked its havoc. Just another day being a Mal.

  I sighed and walked to the front entrance.

  My watched read just after midnight. I could still get a few hours of sleep before work in the morning.

  That was something at least.

  TWO

  “Sales Reptitude,” my boss said as the non-word swooped into frame on the screen behind him.

  Every Friday was our weekly sales meeting. One of those 3-? kind of things. Usually it was just an update on products and services and a review of sales numbers. But every once in a while, some new buzzword would come across someone’s desk and it would create a seemingly never ending rabbit hole of nonsense that would fizzle out within a week or two. Sales Reptitude was one of those very buzzwords.

  I’d explain it to you if I could, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Something about being sleazier but not making it seems so sleazy. No, my mind was on what happened at the bank the night before. I’d tangled with enough ‘Figs at this point in my life to not let something like that bother me. It was the name of the game, after all. Good versus Evil and all that. What bothered me was the who not the how. If any ‘Fig had robots under their control, they were usually much less advanced. It was just too expensive to make an army of mechanical cannon fodder that was so high tech. Which meant it had to be a suit, and it had been at least sixty years since a ‘Fig was spotted wearing battle armor. That guy - Iron Guy...Metal Dude...something like that - was crushed by a battlecruiser outside the city. There had to be a new ‘Fig in town.

  Now, talent was a dime a dozen in this city. New ‘Figs and Mals running around was nothing surprising. So why was I so hung up on this one? Maybe it was because they had chosen a rather inauspicious method of revealing themselves to the world. Maybe it’s because the lousy ‘Fig manhandled me, even though most of them did because all I could really do is stand there and take a pounding. If I’m being honest with myself, it was because I saw it as an opportunity to get a leg up.

  Ever since Magnificent Man turned me and my sis to the dark side - I won’t get into it here, but you can ask Lisa for the deets - I’ve been looking for a way to go from just another henchman to Crash Test, the Coalition of Evil’s most impervious member. But if you wanted to be taken seriously as a Mal you needed someone to be there and fight you. You needed a nemesis. Most of them were already taken, but maybe I could sneak in and claim this one before anyone else got to it.

  But if I was going to make a play for the big time, I needed a good look. I could go with something goofy and modern like my sister or her airhead nemesis The Hotness. That wasn’t really my style though. Besides, spandex can do a lot, but it may have met its match when it came to me. I was thinking something more old school. Maybe I could run it by Lisa and see what she thought.

  “So, in conclusion,” my boss announced, pulling me from my train of thought. “Compliments go a long way, but there’s a fine line between compliment and harassment and the right amount of Sales Reptitude will toe that line perfectly. Now think about how you can achieve a perfect Sales Reptitude this weekend so you can come in and crush it on Monday. Dismissed.”

  There was a clatter of movement as notebooks were closed, chairs were pushed out, and sighs of relief were emanated. I looked at my phone. Damn, it was after six.

  “Bro-ey Tribiani, you coming out for drinks?” Drew, one of the other sales reps, asked me. Drew was one of those super clichéd sales guys who wore gold chains and always had his hair slicked back with so much product he couldn’t stand too close to an open flame lest he combust. “Dave lost this week, so first round’s on him.”

  Some of us sales guys had a running contest going. Whoever made the least amount of sales for the week had to buy the first round Friday night. Not to brag or anything, but I’ve never lost.

  “You know it,” I told him. “Just gotta go talk to my sis real quick. I’ll meet you guys there.”

  “Nice! Smash it, Bro-seph Stalin!” he grunted, putting it up for a high five which I obliged. To his credit he didn’t even wince when he hit what had to feel like a brick wall to him. If I didn’t already know Flame Bro-er’s secret identity, I would have guessed it was Drew. He just loved the word bro and all related puns so much. I gave him a wave and we parted ways.

  I swung by my desk and snatched the comics from the top drawer, then headed for the elevator to pay Lisa a visit. Hopefully she was still there. I know she had plans to go out for drinks, but that always seems to be when some idiot calls in with an issue that pushes her well past closing time and into the realm of excessive.

  I could hear her frantically packing up for the day when I got close. Never fails. She sensed my presence and apparently it startled her because she spilled her purse.

  “Yo, sis,” I greeted her to which she gave me a dirty look.

  “You’re still here?” she asked, shooting me some attitude. “I thought all you sales guys ducked out early on Fridays.”

  I shook my head. “Weekly sales meetings are not the same thing as ducking out early, dear little sister.”

  “They are when you have them at Lucky’s and drinking is involved,” she said, from under the desk. One time we had a sales meeting at Lucky’s and only a few people got drunk. She’s never let it go. “And where did this little sister business come from. I’m older than you, doofus.”
>
  “By six minutes,” I shot back. “And I didn’t say younger, I said little. You’re a pipsqueak, Lisa.”

  That was a little harsh, but I liked to poke fun at her height because I know it got her goat.

  “Five feet nine inches is four inches taller than the national average,” she argued.

  I shrugged. “But Take is way taller than you.”

  Hostile Takeover was the only female member, and leader of the Coalition of Evil. And she was well over six feet tall.

  Lisa scowled at me. “Is there a reason you’re here besides to annoy me?”

  “As a matter of fact...” I pulled a comic out of my pocket and tossed it on her desk. “I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

  “Ace Guy comics? Really?”

  “Yeah look, ignore that bozo,” I replied, waving her off and producing the other book. “Here, another one.”

  I tossed that one on top of the other. Lisa looked down at the comic. It was an old one about a flame talent who went by The Heat. I know, pretty lame, but that was beside the point.

  “Notice anything about the henchmen?” I asked, pointing to the grunts in the book.

  “They’re all white and male,” she came back snidely.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Save that for girl’s night or whatever.”

  “Do you have a death-wish or something?”

  “Whatever, Lisa, you’re just as much of a minion as I am, so don’t get up on your high horse about-”

  “Ah, ah, ah!” she cut me off and gave me an icy glare. “You know better than to use the M word around me. We’re heavies, henchpersons, thugs, if you will.”

  “Henchperson is so dumb. Stop trying to make henchperson happen. We’re henchmen.”