Tony Seeds

Chapter 6 The Mercanary's Cousin

A crick of a slender neck echoes through the parking lot of the Channel 86 news studio. The tall mercenary in a tan blazer and black and white skull T-shirt pulls a folded picture of local newscaster and women's eye candy Lanston Meyers. A chisel chinned, blonde beauty of a man catching the hearts of Portland housewives. He is the new target of Mr. Bizznezz. The mercenary puts his picture back in the inside pocket, takes his kevlar lined white skull mask and wraps it around his head. He takes his two gold plated brass knuckles and wraps them around the fingers of each of his hands. The knuckles on the left are engraved with the word Just, the right engraved with the word Bizz. He hoists his slim fitting blue jeans up, and walks out of the parking lot. He kicks in the door of the studio with his gold toed work boot. 

“I’m looking for a vampire butt horn by the name of Lanston Meyers!” Mr. Bizznezz screams into the lobby. The receptionist looks at the skull masked man in shocked confusion.

“I- I am sorry sir, Mr. Meyers is not a vampire, and is currently in recording for the 5p.m. news.” The receptionist said in a fright.

“Oh yeah? Is that what he told you?” Mr. Bizznezz asked in an angry tone.

“”Um. Y-yes?” the receptionist answered, reaching her right hand under her desk.

“Is that why you are reaching for your scimitar under your desk?” The merc questioned with a smug voice, gripping his golden knuckles in his hands. The Receptionist looked into the black mesh hiding Mr. Bizznezz’s eyes and furled her brow. Unleashing a silver scimitar with a red handle. Her eyes turn red as her false teeth fall out, revealing her filed, vampiric fangs.

“NO ONE WILL DISTURB MR. MEYERS.” The ghoulish, nameless woman screams. Mr. Biznezz, with a flick of his left hand, the receptionist goes flying from her desk, slamming into the wall. The fanged pencil pusher laid out cold on the floor next to the door labeled “Studio floor” with a red light lit above the door frame. 

“Thank you for showing me the way. I’ll take a coffee when you can.” Mr. Bizzness said with a sneer, kicking the cretinous office worker. 

The gold fisted magicary kicks the door in with his other gold toed boot, getting the attention of the entire studio staff. The camera men, the floor managers, the teleprompter typers, the weather man, and the adonis himself, Lanston Meyers. Lanston recognizes the business casual assassin and dashes out of the room, running stage left of the studio. The rest of the staff look at the disruption in anger, eyes slowly turning red, false teeth throughout the room. 

“Huh. A whole staff of leeches.” Mr. Bizznezz insults. The group of grip vampires reaches for hidden scimitars. The teleprompter typer has a hidden blade underneath the teleprompter. The four cameramen each slide their curved blades out of each camera from angles Mr. Bizznezz could not quite see. The floor manager takes his sword from behind the sunset scenery that gave the news studio a certain warm feeling. Finally, the weatherman punches the western coast of oregon on his weather map and thrusts out his serrated blade.

“One, two three four five, six, and… seven. Seven Vampires versus one mercenary. I think This could work. Wanna make it fun, go one on one?” Mr. Bizznezz prompts, waving his gold encompassed fingers to egg them on. The vampires look at each other in confusion, until the first of the camera men charge at him, sword swinging in the air. Mr. Bizznezz pulls his right fist back, and the cinematographer ghoul goes flying towards him. The mercenary punches the undead grip’s jaw with his left hand, sending the grip flying. The cameraman’s scimitar slices through the second camera man’s torso. 

“TWO FOR ONE THAT IS A DEAL!!!” Bizznezz screams. “WHO IS NEXT YOU BLOOD SUCKING F*****S?!?!”

The floor manager jumps over the cameras, diving for an overhead attack. Mr. Bizznezz swipes his right hand to the left, slamming the ghoul to the rafter scaffolding of the studio. The scimitar goes flying from the floor man's hand as he goes flying, and slices the achilles tendon of the fourth cameraman, leaving him immobile. 

Mr. Bizznezz punches both fists forward, causing the two remaining cameramen to repel away from each other, one sent towards the weatherman who has slashed through the ghoul, and the other shooting towards the fallen fourth cameraman, cutting his other achilles tendon. 

“What a waste. You would have made a beautiful vamp with us. Too bad you’re just going to be a dead idiot in a rubber skull mask.” The weatherman taunts. 

“Eh. I always preferred sangria to iron deficient morons. But to each their own.” Bizznezz admits. The weatherman disappears from his weather spot on the set. Bizznezz turns to his left to look for him, then to his right. The masked magicary is unable to see where he went. 

“You want our leader Meyers do you? You want to kill him?” The weatherman taunts from somewhere in the studio.

“Uh… no…” Mr. Bizznezz answers. “I need information from him.”

“Wait… What?”

“Yeah you guys started attacking me, but I’m here to talk to Lanston about the two thousand dollars he owes to a poker friend. I didn’t really bring a stake or holy water to kill you.”

“WHY DID YOU NOT JUST SAY SO?” The Weatherman screams angrily, jumping down from the raptors. 

“Well A) you didn’t ask. B)your receptionist I didn’t catch the name of started swingin’ her blade at me. C) You started swingin’ YOUR scimitars at me and my adrenaline was already spiked. So yeah, if I could just talk to Lanston that would be great.” Bizznezz explains.

“Ugh. Fine. Only if you explain how you sent us flying. We could use magic like that.” the meteorologist requests.

“Magic of Magnetism. Push and pull. Basic magic any idiot can learn it if they have copper blessed by a tibetan monk they find on Craigslist.” 

“Neat. Okay. He’ll be hiding in his dressing room. Wait here let me get him.” The Meteorologist said, walking stage left towards Lanston Meyers dressing room. Mr. Bizznezz walks towards the newscaster desk and sits on it. As he waited his phone began to ring.

“I got BILLS. I GOTTA PAY. SO IMMA WORK WORK WORK EVERY DAY” his phone rings. He looks at the caller I.D and answers. 

“Hey Cuz, whats good? I’m just finishing up this vamp news network thing. Ah well they tried to kill me but most of em are just badly beaten. I’ll most likely get paid that three hundred on this job. They’ll live. Oh You mean The Bar of The Magi? Yeah, I know the Corporal is in the area too, I’ll give her a call and see if she can join. Yeah See ya tonight cuz.”