Where Are They Now (Volume 2)
Hey Weirdos! Sorry for the unforgivably long absence, I really am ashamed of myself. Truth is, the way Imagine Industries ended really demoralized me and I haven’t been myself when it comes to writing/creative stuff/lovemaking/etc. There was a time, when the comic was just taking off in 2011, that I’d have a good idea for a episode everyday (well, at least “good” in my mind) but lately, that just hasn’t been the case. I’d love to tell you I’ve been totally “killing it” on the novel writing side of things but other than a few strong ideas here or there, I haven’t been putting in near the effort I should be.
All that being said, I have something to share with you. I had an idea about a year back (around the same time II was wrapping up) for a book about the most obnoxiously perfect character ever. I know that sounds dumb but hear me out. As an amateur writer, I read a lot of other amateur writer’s work and give them critiques. For the most part I give fairly positive reviews with a few things I would change so they can tell I actually read it but after about the 20th story I read, I noticed a pattern, all their main characters are damn near perfect. The stories almost always starred a person with brains, brawn and great cheek bones to boot, the proverbial ‘Perfect Being’ made flesh. Occasionally, they’d have a scar on their face but really that’s just to sell the “torture soul” and “Bad-ass” angles.
Anyway, as a joke, I started writing my own “extreme” version of what everyone else was already writing and I called it, The Epically Amazing Adventures of Detective Jambalaya Gumbo, MD. Enjoy…
Detective Jambalaya Gumbo MD awoke alone in his Double-Wide California King bed. The minor creaking sound would never have woken a normal man but Jambalaya was in no way normal. Besides his chiseled, Brad Pitt dwarfingly good looks and fit, hairless body; “Jumbo”, as the ladies called him, had trained his senses since he was 7 and a half months old to be the world’s greatest Detective. Nothing got by him and the faint sound of the Assassin’s foot touching his authentic African Mpingo wood floors might as well have been a screeching alarm.
Jambalaya eyes shot open and he quickly debated which of the many weapons in his tastefully decorated room he would use. The twin Desert Eagles under his pillow? Too obvious. The hand carved Trident given to him by the King of Egypt for safely landing his plane without wings or an engine while fighting off 30 members of the League of Evil? Nah, he used that last time. No, Jambalaya would make this battle sporting and, with a flash of his wrist, he ripped out a section of his 3,000 thread count sheets.
As the door swung open, the armed killer was stunned to see the most handsome man he’d ever saw blindfolded and waving him in, inviting his attack.
“Bring it” said Jambalaya with a wicked smile, “I always prefer a fight to the death to my normal morning exercise”.
The Assassin screamed something in Japanese, which most people wouldn’t have understood, but Jumbo understood completely, and began swinging a pair of hand axes wildly at his target. Jambalaya allowed his assault to get close enough for the murderer to not feel like it was hopeless but far enough away not to endanger his perfect teeth and hair.
After a full minute of unrelenting fury, the assassin began to slow ever so slightly, to which, Jambalaya got bored and back flip kicked him unconscious.
Jambalaya sighed, “Don’t tell me that’s it!”
At that moment, no less than a dozen more killers crashed through Jambalaya’s various windows and 50 more stormed up his staircase and into his room.
“Thank God” Jambalaya said, looking to the heavens and then, the fight was on.
After 5 minutes of gunfire, screams of unimaginable pain and no less than 15 security deposit-revoking explosions; the last of the Assassins was sent flying out of Jambalaya’s high rise window, to which he untied his blood stained blindfold, looked around and said, “Breakfast time!” and then walked down the stairs to his well-stocked kitchen.
After thoroughly washing his hands, Jambalaya began preparing his signature White Truffle and Shark Fin Soup that he learned to make from blind Tibetan Monks when he got a video call on his Prototype Iphone X. Jambalaya’s partner, Barry Sangria was looking particularly miffed at him.
“Yes, Barry?” Jambalaya answered.
“Yes, Barry?! That’s all I get? I had to hear from one of my contacts that The League sent a division of hit men to your house.”
Jambalaya smiled, “Sorry Mom, it’s not like I had time to text you in the middle of the siege… well actually, I could have but it would have been rude to the trained killers.”
“Mom?! You dick! I’m just saying I would have like to help you bust a few heads, that’s all. Also, not that I’m ‘mothering you’ or anything but are you hurt?” Barry asked, changing his tone from annoyed to concerned.
Jambalaya considered the brawl and answered, “My knuckles are a little sore but otherwise I’m no worse for wear… in fact, these guys didn’t really seem to be The Leagues best.”
“That makes sense, I had heard from one of my contacts inside The League that any of their operatives in training that didn’t make the cut would be re-purposed as shock troops and sent directly at you to redeem themselves.” Barry explained, hoping that Jambalaya wouldn’t deduce why he had withheld this information until now.
“This is about Lexi, isn’t it?” Jambalaya asked, trying to hid his announce.
Barry took a moment to gather his thoughts but could see that Jambalaya already knew his reason.
“Lexi has been a member of The League on and off on more than a few occasions and you are, let’s say, “chummy with her” from time to time”.
“You think I’d blow your man on the inside’s cover?” grumbled Jambalaya.
Barry stared in silences for a moment and Jambalaya suddenly realized how badly he had walked into this one. Jambalaya let out a single word that both brought a feeling of shame to him and told Barry that he understood completely, “Serbia”.
“That was a long time ago; we were both different people and Lexi…”
Jambalaya interjected, “She’s in my past now. Don’t worry, I learned my lesson in Serbia… don’t trust anyone anymore, not even myself.”
Barry and Jambalaya remained silent for a while and then Barry, as if he had forgotten why he had called, spoke up, “I’ve got word that our old friend, Damien Von Blackheart found his way out of Spacecatraz Prison.”
“Blackheart is a small-time League middleman, how did he get the juice to break out of the inescapable, Centuple-Max penitentiary I designed?” Jambalaya said while pulling up the Prison’s digital blueprints.
Barry gave Jambalaya all the information he had, “I’m not sure but he must have had a lot of help from the inside and out, all 67 fail-safes were knocked out and everyone who could I.D. the culprits are either dead or missing.”
“The League must be behind this… nobody else, besides one of us, could have pulled this off but why would they go through all the trouble? Damien is a real bastard and all but they’re much bigger fish in Spacecatraz and no one even made a play for them.” Jambalaya said, looking over the updated post-attack Prison manifests.
“I’m sorry, Detective Gumbo, I’ve got to let you go. I’m getting called into the President’s Office so I can brief him on the escape.”
Barry always called Jambalaya “Detective Gumbo” when anyone from the US Government was in earshot. Barry didn’t like to let on that he and Jambalaya were friends. Knowing Barry’s background the way Jambalaya did, he didn’t blame him. The people Barry use to work for would take any hint of humanity and use it against their ‘employees’.
“Alright Agent Sangria, I’ll meet you at Spacecatraz in O 1400 hours… assuming I’m converting to Mars Time properly?” Jambalaya smiled, knowing full well that he had converted properly since he was charged with deciding the time zones on all the Planets up to Uranus.
Barry looked at Jambalaya through the view screen for a moment, trying not to role his eyes, “Aye Aye, Sangria out.”
As Jambalaya placed his one-of-a-kind, super phone on his rare, pure white marble kitchen counter, he sensed a slight variation of air pressure in the room.
“Lexi, it’s been too long.” Jambalaya said smiling as he turned around.
Lexi stood in front of Jambalaya, as beautiful as ever; with her golden hair obscuring one of here flawless eyes and stunning figure, perfect for utterly destroying a man… both in and out of the bedroom. She was like an even hotter Scarlett Johansson and in actuality, she made Johansson look like some sort of retched cow-beast-thing.
“Hey, Jumbo.” Lexi said, as if they had last seen each other on much better terms.
Their fit, hairless bodies collided and at first, neither were sure if they were picking up where they left off when he swore he’d kill her if he ever saw her again or picking up from the hotel bedroom from the night before that. Jambalaya quickly got control of Lexi’s wrists, whipped her around and restrained her with a pair of handcuffs he kept in a nearby kitchen drawer.
Lexi pushed free of Jambalaya’s grip and spun to face him, “I wasn’t sure where we stood after Serbia,” and then smiled seductively at her shackles, “and these don’t exactly answer my question.”
“Where we stand is I said I would kill you if I ever saw you again and now you’ve called my bluff.” Jambalaya said, trying not let on how glad he was to see her.
Jambalaya interrupted her, “Don’t bother, I already know why you’re here… it makes perfect sense, really. Part of Blackheart’s plan must have something to do with me, he thinks my weakness for you will get me off my guard and then you’ll either kill me or I’ll kill you, both, of course, working towards his end of keeping me away long enough to pull off some heist or terrorist attack, thus getting back into the good graces of The League and hurting me in the process… stop me when I get something wrong, would you?”
“Blackheart is trying to kill me…” Lexi said plainly.
Jambalaya searched her face but she knew nothing and even she wasn’t a good enough liar to fool him, “Fine. Then his threat on your life is his way of keeping me worried about your safety, instead of investigating his escape and tracking him down. Simple, really.”
“Well, I’m glad that people trying to kill me is just a mere distraction for you.” said Lexi, less than amused with Jambalaya’s cold conclusion.
Jambalaya quickly weighed his options and came to a decision, “How do you like Mars this time of year?”
Thanks for reading Chapter One. If I get the idea people enjoyed it from the comments, I’ll post the next Chapter soon.