CW: Conrad has no filter…

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

“God bless it,” Conrad, top Hero Corp. agent and Rage’s personal manager himself, groaned and scratched at his scruffy five o’clock shadow. “That son-of-a-whore ate all the glazed donuts again!”

A deep chuckle resounded from somewhere by the wall to Conrad’s right. He whipped his head around to face the owner, but nobody was there. 

At least, not anyone visible.

“I swear to God, you invisible fuckwit, I will call HR on you myself if you don’t stop following me around!” Conrad seethed, his blood boiling. “I know where you prefer to lurk and won’t hesitate to expose your true nature to your wife!”

In a flash of white, the Invisible Man materialized as he was walking toward the employee break room exit. The green-suited man frowned. “Geez, Connor,” he said, “your temper puts even Rage to shame.”

“It’s ConRAD, dumbfuck!” he almost spat. “And show some respect! Call me Agent Joseph!” 

“Yeah, yeah, same thing,” Invisible Man waved Conrad off and left the room, leaving Conrad all alone. 

If only he could say it would always stay that way.

Conrad simply yearned to kick it back for a little while in the general break room with a donut and a cup of black coffee but no. The two dinguses he loathed the most likely ate all the donuts despite having plenty to fight over in the hero-specific break room. According to Time Boy, “agent donuts” tasted better. Conrad’s ass they did! Everybody got the same variety from the same place, so what made the informationist sector donuts “better?” Conrad supposed he’d have to go spy on the runner who grabbed all the boxes in the morning sometime.

Upon checking his Hero Corp. watch, Conrad only saw minor alerts that lower-ranked heroes had already been sanctioned for. So, Conrad poured himself what was left of one of the Dunkin coffee gallons and truly did “kick it back” in a chair, turning to face the public television set high up on the right-side wall that was—of course—turned off.

“Seriously?” Conrad groaned. He set the little Dixie cup of his straight black coffee onto the circle-shaped table beside him and stood up, bones creaking as he did so.

The remote was, for some reason, actually underneath the circle table, but he didn’t notice it until someone else entered the break room. Of course, that someone just had to be Agent Milly Faire, the apple of Conrad’s eye.

And she caught him crawling underneath the table for the remote, business suit ruffled and pants falling down to likely expose a part of his underpants. Conrad really should’ve stopped to buy a belt for his too-big pants on the way to work, but he valued his year-long streak of being on time a little too much to part with, so he just decided he would be careful all day. Why couldn’t his fellow cohort’s have the decency to pick up their fallen items?

“Oh, hi, Agent—ow!” Conrad started as he shuffled out from underneath the table, but he miscalculated when he was free to stand and ended up hitting his head on the underside. 

Good going, Conrad! He thought with a wince. Now she probably thinks you’re an idiot!

Agent Faire stared down the perky peak of her nose at him, her cool dark eyes unreadable. “Agent Joseph,” she said and gave him one quick, curt nod. Her hair was pinned back into a tight, military-style bun, so Conrad was denied the swish of her usual ponytail this time. Since she kept her hair au natural, she had to take the time to straighten it to achieve a fluid structure. Either she didn’t have the time that morning, or she actually just wanted to switch things up. Regardless, Conrad thought she looked perfect in every style.

In a matter of seconds, Conrad was back up on his feet and smoothing down his uniform. “H-how are you this morning? The new hairstyle suits you!” He chuckled. Licking his lips then, Conrad held up the newly-obtained remote controller, as if that could dispel the rising tension he felt. “Found it under the table. Whaddaya know?”

The ever-pristine Agent Faire stared at Conrad for two seconds too long, so he began to shuffle his feet. She looked him up and down, her attention attracted to the sudden movement, but then moved on to the reception table. The clack of her six-inch pumps were deafened by the carpeted floor, but Conrad’s hearing had always been far too sharp for his own good, so he heard it regardless and smiled.

“The donuts were already scavenged, but there’s a fresh carton of coffee if you want it, Agent Faire,” Conrad said and about-faced. He almost face-planted from the abrupt movement, but managed to catch himself. He suffered enough embarrassment retrieving the remote! “Here, let me get you a cup.”

Agent Faire had already opened a new carton of Dunkin’s classic brew while Conrad fumbled around for a Dixie cup, the remote still in one of his hands. He quelled his shaking hand by resting it on the table as he forced the empty cup to stay upright while Agent Faire filled it up three quarters of the way. He slowly pulled his hand back when she capped the carton.

“Thanks,” Agent Faire said. She turned her head to smirk at Conrad, once-empty eyes sparkling, but then she picked up the cup and moved over to the condiment storage drawers. 

And Conrad just stood in the same spot, watching her dress her coffee with cream and sugar.

Oh, if only his brain could work properly around her! So much for being the best of the agents, Conrad…

After the third taste-test, Agent Faire picked up the small cup and turned on her heels to leave. The unmistakable jangle of the Hero Corp. cell came from her pocket, so she pulled out the phone to check the caller ID. “See you later, Agent Joseph,” she nodded at him and put the phone up to her ear. 

“Good morning, Mr. Mayor,” she said as she crossed over to the door. “What can I do for you today?”

While it was unfortunate she had to leave so soon, Conrad was glad he didn’t get that call. Talking to Menthol City’s mayor was never a fun time, nor was it a good sign if he called her directly.

“Sheesh, talk about awkward,” a familiar sleazy voice said right next to Conrad’s ear, and it took all of his willpower not to scream in the man’s face. With Conrad’s super sonic scream, the Invisible Man would’ve gone right through the wall plaster had Conrad been less of a man!

“You absolute shit-for-brains!” Conrad growled and shoved the Invisible Man away from him. “Stop sneaking up on me before I actually hurt you!”

The Invisible Man cackled, and Conrad’s cheeks warmed as he stomped past his offender. “Meddling bastard,” Conrad mumbled under his breath and flopped back down into his abandoned chair.

“You love me and you know it,” the Invisible Man winked.

Conrad threw his half-empty Dixie cup at him and watched it hit the ground as the green-suited man vanished. The man’s laugh resounded from somewhere by the exit, so Conrad assumed he was finally leaving.

“Rat bastard,” Conrad spat. “Could’ve at least gotten me a new cup!”

After returning to the reception stand to fill up a new cup of coffee, Conrad made himself comfortable in the plastic chair for the third time and flicked on the television—only for the Menthol Downtown news to start up.

“Not what I want to see,” Conrad sighed and looked for the guide button on the remote. But when he looked back up to aim the remote at the control box, the footage of the downtown square—coupled with the running caption at the bottom of the screen—gave him pause.

There was live footage of a super wrinkly man with white wisps for hair and beady black eyes across every building with an outside screen. The old man was wearing a doctor’s white lab coat and disposable gloves—one baby blue, and the other baby pink. The caption at the bottom of the news read, “ELDERLY MAN THREATENS MASS ‘BABY BOOM’ USING HERO AND VILLAIN DNA.”

“Whaaat the fuuuuck…” Conrad’s mouth hung open and he tried to process where he’d seen the man before. He wore an N95 mask, but Conrad swore he’d seen the man’s beady eyes in a hospital before when Conrad was a new agent.

As if on cue, Conrad’s Hero Corp. watch resounded with the ERR! EER! ERRRR! of the “Red Alert” alarm. He sighed and fished out his phone, knowing full and well that his best friend would not answer the watch itself.

“You better fucking pick up, asshole,” Conrad swore and pushed the number one on the dial—his speed dial for the only hero he was personally responsible for.

He cleared his throat and brought the small Blackberry up to his ear. The other agents often laughed at Conrad for not having a smart phone in their day and age, but he didn’t care. Conrad had no use for those fancy devices, and they kept more information on them, anyway, making it easier for villains to obtain confidential knowledge.

He was still trying to convince Rage to drop his stupid iPhone and his Birdie obsession.

“Oh, thank God,” Conrad sighed when the phone clicked, signaling the call was picked up. “Please tell me you’re not busy.”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Rage huffed on the other end. “I just took care of that Kaiju-level threat, but now I’m kinda stuck in…a predicament…”

Conrad furrowed his brows and focused his attention onto the sparkling beady eyes of the crazy man on the news. “What kind of ‘predicament,’ exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know,” Rage chuckled, but he sounded nervous to Conrad, and maybe a bit shaken up. “The kind that involves sitting in hospital waiting rooms, and helping with triages?”

“What?” Conrad groaned. “Why the fuck are you wasting your time with that? Let the EMTs and CLSs deal with that shit!”

He watched the old man clap his hands once, twice, and thrice before the footage cut to one of the news reporters swearing. She looked to be staring down at her own body, and the cameraman panned down to reveal the woman’s shirt stretched out over her enlarged stomach. 

“Joey!” the woman gasped. “Cut that shit off!”

“Yeah, don’t you think I know that?” Rage tittered, and Conrad felt a little concerned for his friend’s mental state.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but something huge is happening downtown, and I need you to get there pronto. Understand?”

“Yeah, uh huh,” Rage chuckled dryly, “no problemo, Conrad…”

Conrad wasn’t so sure Rage actually comprehended him, but he didn’t have any more time to waste on the phone, so he stood up and downed the rest of his coffee.

“Good,” he said after he finished. “Then get to it. Bye.”

Conrad clapped his flip phone shut and glared at the TV, Dixie cup crushed in his free hand.

“Whatever you’re planning, old man, you won’t get away with it, I swear on that.” Conrad tossed the Dixie cup into the wastebin by the door and let the door slam behind him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

While you wait for the next episode, how about giving these stories a try? Links below (author description)!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧