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The criminal known to Angel Falls as "Boogeyman" paced the floors of the warehouse, checking his pocket-watch. The beautifully ornate timepiece opened with a click, playing a merry tune as he made note of the time. "The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down". It was almost midnight and almost time. He glanced around as he snapped the watch shut and replaced it. Several of his henchmen were filling the crates with the dolls, the beautiful dolls. Each of them resembled a high quality Cabbage Patch doll from the 1980's, except these had pull strings in the back that allowed them to say several cooing baby noises. Pulling the string also unleashed a colorless, odorless gas from the mouth of the dolls that would cause the children to be stricken with delicious, unspeakable dread and horror. Literally thousands of these "harmless" children's toys would be shipped out in the next 24 hours and find themselves on the shelves of stores right next to their much more benevolent twins. After the first wave of terror, he would make an announcement that he, the Boogeyman had returned and unless the city wanted more dead or catatonic children they would pay his ransom of two-hundred million dollars. Unmarked, non-sequential bills - all twenties - delivered exactly to his specifications. By this time next month he would be sitting on a beach, sipping an exotic drink from a pineapple of a non-extradition country.

One of his goons was tossing the dolls a bit too roughly into the crate in his rush to finish what they all must have considered boring, physical labor. Boogeyman frowned under his steel, skull-shaped mask and crossed the floor to stand next to the ball-capped henchman.

"Careful with those you witless stripling!" he spoke into the voice amplification system built into his mask, making it sound both haunting and supernatural. "Were you to accidentally set one of those off you be a sweating, shrieking shadow of yourself, begging for death to take you from the images assailing your fevered mind. These hallucinogens are not for the faint of heart."

The man met his masked gaze and swallowed hard, nodding. The masked, cloaked man nodded back and carefully re-adjusted the dolls in the crate as the other men watched, making a mental note of his actions. The sheepish looking man in the ball-cap gingerly laid the next doll in the box.

"We have only a few more hours so make the most of them. I want these packed up and ready for delivery before 3 am." The criminal mastermind announced before walking towards the staircase that lead to the upstairs office, his ragged black robes sweeping behind him like a trail of darkness. As he passed the nervous looking gunman on the steps several feet up there was a loud thud on the roof and then the sounds of what could be footsteps. Everyone stopped what they were doing and cut their eyes upwards. Boogeyman's hand reached into the folds of this cloaks and closed around the handle of his custom-designed gas-gun. It was filled with a concentrated dosage of his fear toxin, enough to drive a full grown man into shock and death from fright in a matter of minutes. The henchmen clung to more conventional weaponry in an assortment of firearms. Boogeyman walked swiftly back down the stairs to the warehouse floor.

"Be careful gentlemen, we may have an unexpected gatecrasher...take positions!"

The goons began to scurry around, keeping their eyes glued to the roof and their fingers on their triggers. Their mastermind ducked into a small dark space between two pallets stacked high with crates and cartons, blending into the shadows. There was suddenly a high-pitched sound like sheet metal being torn open seconds before a blur of red, white and blue came crashing down from above.

American Hero leapt down on top of one of his terrified lackeys, twisting his arm sideways until the bones snapped with a wet, crunching sound. His .45 caliber pistol, still gripped in his twitching hand was swung around to face the thug with the ball-cap. Smith used the man's finger to pull the trigger back twice on the semi-automatic, punching both rounds into the man's chest. As he fell backwards to the ground, a lifeless corpse, the amazonian woman reached up and snapped the smaller man's neck with a savage twist of her powerful arm. There was another sickening snap as he dropped like a lifeless rag-doll. The bald henchman with the automatic rifle opened fire, screaming at the top of his baritone voice. The bullets impacted onto Smith with surprising accuracy given that she considered these rabble to be nothing more than petty criminals who played too much "Call of Duty". Almost all of the volley hit her center of mass. Unfortunately, her incredibly dense musculature deflected the bullets with ease, ricocheting them around the room. American Hero rushed the heavy-set man, taking him by the chest and flying straight up. Smith draw her arm back and suddenly thrust the screaming man forward, punching him into the concrete wall. The wall held, but his ribs shattered like glass, puncturing his vitals organs in dozens of places. Smith causally dropped him to his death before turning in mid-air to look at the rest of the assembled goons.

The blonde haired woman dove down at the next criminal like a Stuka dive-bomber, coming up under his chin with a devastating uppercut. The dark-haired man's teeth erupted out of his mouth in a bloody torrent as his head snapped backward. He was thrown several feet up into the air and fell over the side of the railing, crashing down to the floor below. The final henchman stepped over his dead companion, glancing down at his back for only a moment before opening fire at American Hero with his sub-machine gun. Smith turned her head over her shoulder as the small-arms fire danced in sparks off her back. With a smirk she walked over to the desperate thug and stopped a few feet from him. Without a second word she punched him in the throat with all her strength, collapsing his trachea and crushing his windpipe like ground glass. The man's eyes grew wide as he gasped for breath that would never be his. He fell to the floor, clawing and scratching at his fatal wound, flopping like a fish out of water. Smith narrowed her eyes on her target, skulking her from the shadows nearby. The self-proclaimed Boogeyman.

The masked criminal lunged in from her side, his gas-gun in hand. Using her hypersonic speed she caught hold of it before he had a chance to pull the trigger and tossed the fragile weapon away from her. With her free hand she punched the spindly man in his side. It wasn't a blow to kill him, but all the same she felt something pop. Boogeyman left out an agonized shriek and dropped to the floor. Smith watched the cloaked man as he attempted to put distance between himself and his assailant, crawling as quickly as he could despite the white-hot lance of pain in his side. Jane Smith smiled and calmly walked behind him, making sure her footfalls were heavy and echoed in the now quiet warehouse.

"So even the Boogeyman is afraid of me, huh?" she said mockingly in her southern drawl. "I've heard about you. You're the pedophile who gets his kicks by creating terror and horror in small children ain't cha?"

The man didn't answer, continuing to crawl, his breathing heavy and labored.

"Well you sure don't scare me Sugah. In fact with the way you're crawling away, if I didn't know any better I would say you couldn't handle a real woman. Can't get it up unless it per-pubescent and screaming?"

American Hero walked swiftly up alongside the escaping criminal and took a hold of him by his cloaks, lifting him effortlessly off the ground and slamming him into a pile of crates nearby. She could see the panic and fear in his blue eyes as she ripped the skull-like visage from his face and tossed it over her shoulder. He was a slight man, with small cheek-bones and thin lips. He was maybe about thirty-five and trembling like a leaf as he stared back at her. There was a smell of fresh urine that permeated the air and made her chuckle.

"Are you afraid of me Boogeyman? Or should I call you Walter Russo?"

"I...know who you are..." the man began, his stuttering voice barely a whisper, "I know what you did to King Snake and Firebug..."

Smith smiled even wider and tightened her grip on his costume. "And you think I'm here to kill you? Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to put your head on the ground and stomp your brains out the top of your head like jelly you sicko fuck...but sadly I have use for you, or more to the point, your chemical expertise."

Russo blinked several times before stammering out anything else. "Wha...What? You want me to work with you?"

"Work FOR me you prick. I want you to create for me some very specific...emotion enhancers..." she continued, "and if your work is satisfactory then I will decide if you've earned the right to continue breathing. Understood?"

The smaller man nodded, still confused by the situation he was now placed in.

"Good." Smith nodded and dropped the man back down onto the soles of his shoes. "I'll be in touch with you several days from now. Don't change your residence and don't try to go anywhere. I think you're a smart enough, college-liberal-elitist to know I would find you and you would still work for me...you'd just do it without any fucking legs to get away on."

To be continued...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's that tune on his pocket-watch for those curious: [link]

A tremendous thanks to my old friend, the incredibly generous and talented for creating this wonderful piece of artwork! Thank you so much!!!

American Hero, Boogeyman and the story are my creations and property.

This tale takes place in

Description
Continued from:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The criminal known to Angel Falls as "Boogeyman" paced the floors of the warehouse, checking his pocket-watch. The beautifully ornate timepiece opened with a click, playing a merry tune as he made note of the time. "The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down". It was almost midnight and almost time. He glanced around as he snapped the watch shut and replaced it. Several of his henchmen were filling the crates with the dolls, the beautiful dolls. Each of them resembled a high quality Cabbage Patch doll from the 1980's, except these had pull strings in the back that allowed them to say several cooing baby noises. Pulling the string also unleashed a colorless, odorless gas from the mouth of the dolls that would cause the children to be stricken with delicious, unspeakable dread and horror. Literally thousands of these "harmless" children's toys would be shipped out in the next 24 hours and find themselves on the shelves of stores right next to their much more benevolent twins. After the first wave of terror, he would make an announcement that he, the Boogeyman had returned and unless the city wanted more dead or catatonic children they would pay his ransom of two-hundred million dollars. Unmarked, non-sequential bills - all twenties - delivered exactly to his specifications. By this time next month he would be sitting on a beach, sipping an exotic drink from a pineapple of a non-extradition country.

One of his goons was tossing the dolls a bit too roughly into the crate in his rush to finish what they all must have considered boring, physical labor. Boogeyman frowned under his steel, skull-shaped mask and crossed the floor to stand next to the ball-capped henchman.

"Careful with those you witless stripling!" he spoke into the voice amplification system built into his mask, making it sound both haunting and supernatural. "Were you to accidentally set one of those off you be a sweating, shrieking shadow of yourself, begging for death to take you from the images assailing your fevered mind. These hallucinogens are not for the faint of heart."

The man met his masked gaze and swallowed hard, nodding. The masked, cloaked man nodded back and carefully re-adjusted the dolls in the crate as the other men watched, making a mental note of his actions. The sheepish looking man in the ball-cap gingerly laid the next doll in the box.

"We have only a few more hours so make the most of them. I want these packed up and ready for delivery before 3 am." The criminal mastermind announced before walking towards the staircase that lead to the upstairs office, his ragged black robes sweeping behind him like a trail of darkness. As he passed the nervous looking gunman on the steps several feet up there was a loud thud on the roof and then the sounds of what could be footsteps. Everyone stopped what they were doing and cut their eyes upwards. Boogeyman's hand reached into the folds of this cloaks and closed around the handle of his custom-designed gas-gun. It was filled with a concentrated dosage of his fear toxin, enough to drive a full grown man into shock and death from fright in a matter of minutes. The henchmen clung to more conventional weaponry in an assortment of firearms. Boogeyman walked swiftly back down the stairs to the warehouse floor.

"Be careful gentlemen, we may have an unexpected gatecrasher...take positions!"

The goons began to scurry around, keeping their eyes glued to the roof and their fingers on their triggers. Their mastermind ducked into a small dark space between two pallets stacked high with crates and cartons, blending into the shadows. There was suddenly a high-pitched sound like sheet metal being torn open seconds before a blur of red, white and blue came crashing down from above.

American Hero leapt down on top of one of his terrified lackeys, twisting his arm sideways until the bones snapped with a wet, crunching sound. His .45 caliber pistol, still gripped in his twitching hand was swung around to face the thug with the ball-cap. Smith used the man's finger to pull the trigger back twice on the semi-automatic, punching both rounds into the man's chest. As he fell backwards to the ground, a lifeless corpse, the amazonian woman reached up and snapped the smaller man's neck with a savage twist of her powerful arm. There was another sickening snap as he dropped like a lifeless rag-doll. The bald henchman with the automatic rifle opened fire, screaming at the top of his baritone voice. The bullets impacted onto Smith with surprising accuracy given that she considered these rabble to be nothing more than petty criminals who played too much "Call of Duty". Almost all of the volley hit her center of mass. Unfortunately, her incredibly dense musculature deflected the bullets with ease, ricocheting them around the room. American Hero rushed the heavy-set man, taking him by the chest and flying straight up. Smith draw her arm back and suddenly thrust the screaming man forward, punching him into the concrete wall. The wall held, but his ribs shattered like glass, puncturing his vitals organs in dozens of places. Smith causally dropped him to his death before turning in mid-air to look at the rest of the assembled goons.

The blonde haired woman dove down at the next criminal like a Stuka dive-bomber, coming up under his chin with a devastating uppercut. The dark-haired man's teeth erupted out of his mouth in a bloody torrent as his head snapped backward. He was thrown several feet up into the air and fell over the side of the railing, crashing down to the floor below. The final henchman stepped over his dead companion, glancing down at his back for only a moment before opening fire at American Hero with his sub-machine gun. Smith turned her head over her shoulder as the small-arms fire danced in sparks off her back. With a smirk she walked over to the desperate thug and stopped a few feet from him. Without a second word she punched him in the throat with all her strength, collapsing his trachea and crushing his windpipe like ground glass. The man's eyes grew wide as he gasped for breath that would never be his. He fell to the floor, clawing and scratching at his fatal wound, flopping like a fish out of water. Smith narrowed her eyes on her target, skulking her from the shadows nearby. The self-proclaimed Boogeyman.

The masked criminal lunged in from her side, his gas-gun in hand. Using her hypersonic speed she caught hold of it before he had a chance to pull the trigger and tossed the fragile weapon away from her. With her free hand she punched the spindly man in his side. It wasn't a blow to kill him, but all the same she felt something pop. Boogeyman left out an agonized shriek and dropped to the floor. Smith watched the cloaked man as he attempted to put distance between himself and his assailant, crawling as quickly as he could despite the white-hot lance of pain in his side. Jane Smith smiled and calmly walked behind him, making sure her footfalls were heavy and echoed in the now quiet warehouse.

"So even the Boogeyman is afraid of me, huh?" she said mockingly in her southern drawl. "I've heard about you. You're the pedophile who gets his kicks by creating terror and horror in small children ain't cha?"

The man didn't answer, continuing to crawl, his breathing heavy and labored.

"Well you sure don't scare me Sugah. In fact with the way you're crawling away, if I didn't know any better I would say you couldn't handle a real woman. Can't get it up unless it per-pubescent and screaming?"

American Hero walked swiftly up alongside the escaping criminal and took a hold of him by his cloaks, lifting him effortlessly off the ground and slamming him into a pile of crates nearby. She could see the panic and fear in his blue eyes as she ripped the skull-like visage from his face and tossed it over her shoulder. He was a slight man, with small cheek-bones and thin lips. He was maybe about thirty-five and trembling like a leaf as he stared back at her. There was a smell of fresh urine that permeated the air and made her chuckle.

"Are you afraid of me Boogeyman? Or should I call you Walter Russo?"

"I...know who you are..." the man began, his stuttering voice barely a whisper, "I know what you did to King Snake and Firebug..."

Smith smiled even wider and tightened her grip on his costume. "And you think I'm here to kill you? Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to put your head on the ground and stomp your brains out the top of your head like jelly you sicko fuck...but sadly I have use for you, or more to the point, your chemical expertise."

Russo blinked several times before stammering out anything else. "Wha...What? You want me to work with you?"

"Work FOR me you prick. I want you to create for me some very specific...emotion enhancers..." she continued, "and if your work is satisfactory then I will decide if you've earned the right to continue breathing. Understood?"

The smaller man nodded, still confused by the situation he was now placed in.

"Good." Smith nodded and dropped the man back down onto the soles of his shoes. "I'll be in touch with you several days from now. Don't change your residence and don't try to go anywhere. I think you're a smart enough, college-liberal-elitist to know I would find you and you would still work for me...you'd just do it without any fucking legs to get away on."

To be continued...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's that tune on his pocket-watch for those curious: [link]

A tremendous thanks to my old friend, the incredibly generous and talented for creating this wonderful piece of artwork! Thank you so much!!!

American Hero, Boogeyman and the story are my creations and property.

This tale takes place in