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Take it from a henchman. Few crimes are quite as inauspicious as kidnapping.

Every time I tried to kidnap someone, it turned out that someone had some connection to a superhero. When we kidnapped an attractive person, it turned out some superhero was trying to fuck them. When we kidnapped some ugly sap, that sap turned out to be the relative of some attractive person a superhero was trying to fuck.

That’s the kind of luck you get when your city has EIGHT superheroes. And not the learn karate and wear titanium and leather type heroes . . . No, the born with supernatural powers superheroes.

Eight superheroes, in one motherfucking city!

I apologize for the foul language; my job gets the better of me sometimes.

Have you ever spent years dreaming of something, only to find it’s nowhere near as great as people said it would be? That’s exactly what happened to every other sap like me who decided to become a henchman in the city of New Pompeii.

Don’t get me wrong!

Being a henchman wasn't exactly easy back in the 90’s, but it was far easier than it is today. You see, back then Wonderman was the only hero in town. And if you committed a crime whilst he was getting laid, there was an 85% chance of getting away with it. On the other hand, if you committed a crime that somehow led to him being cock-blocked, there was a 75% chance of ending up in a wheelchair.

When I was twelve, I robbed a liquor store with a short barrel shotgun and got away with it. It wasn't that much of a risk. Before I walked into the store, I looked up at Wonderman as he and a young woman engaged in coitus about a thousand feet above me. I smiled as her clean white underwear fell on my poorly combed afro.

I ran out of the store with $300, assuming more aggressive crimes would be even easier with the backing of a super villain. Unfortunately for all of us upcoming henchmen, even our predecessors underestimated the effect of Wonderman’s insatiable libido.

He discovered his powers in 1984 and in 1989 the people of New Pompeii, demanded he get a vasectomy. The decision, of course, was brought about by the fact that he had already had eight children by the Christmas of 88.

What made our lives even more tedious was that three of his children withheld both their identities and their abilities. Basically, they were the hippie-dippy ‘I don’t need the fame’ types.

Allow me to illustrate.

It was the day of the kidnapping. The streets were dark, but the moon shone brightly. I climbed the stairs all the way up to the fourth floor of the unfinished Ryemark building.

When I got to the room, I found the Bellamy brothers staring at Marcy Lane rather amorously. We had seated her on the floor with her hands tied behind her back. I checked the knots to ensure they were well done.

Despite being a rookie, I still felt more qualified for the job than the Bellamy brothers. They had been henchmen for over 20 years and still weren't promoted to the villain’s right hand. As you can imagine, this was generally thought of as an embarrassment.

I pulled out some duct tape and covered her mouth with it. Her short blond hair, puffy cheeks, and plump nose made her seem incapable of mind games, but it didn't take an illusionist to fool the Bellamy brothers.

We had her in what appeared to be a corporate office. The construction crew left their paints, paint brushes and trace papers with architectural drawings on them. I volunteered to check the hallways for superheroes or vigilantes. Before I left the room, I looked back at the Bellamy brothers and gave them a parting lecture.

“Whatever you guys decide to do, just make sure you don’t rape her. You know how superheroes are about rape; they can smell that shit from a mile away. I hope I've made myself clear.

Don’t rape her!”

After I walked out of the room, my plan was to strut cautiously across each hallway I could find. That plan was turned to shambles when I figured out the Bellamy brothers had ignored my instructions.

Before I left the room, I picked up one of the two 2-way Radio devices and left both of them on. They were clearly oblivious to my distrust, as they decided to mock my instructions as soon after I left the room.

“Who the hell does this Keys kid think he is?” Bo Bellamy asked rhetorically.

“I don’t care,” Chuck Bellamy relied. “We just kidnapped a pretty little girl, and he’s saying we can’t rape her? Screw him!”

“Don’t rape her!” said Bo quoting me in a high pitched feminine tone.

Chuck laughed for a while and then said, “Let’s do this chick.”

I immediately dropped the radio and ran across the hallway shouting.

“You assholes . . . stop!”

But it was too late. By the time I got to the room, the girl was gone. The walls had different types of paints splattered all across them. Pieces of trace paper flew aimlessly across the room as the wind from a broken window allowed them to sway continuously. I looked out the window and saw the Bellamy brothers hanging off the bottom bar of a billboard across the street. All they had on was their boxer shorts.

I stood at the window placing both hands on the newly painted window sill. I could feel the presence of another human being behind me. But before I could turn around to look at him he hit me in the back of my head and left me unconscious.

I woke up upside down and besides the Bellamy brothers, hanging off the lower bar of a billboard. And just like them, I wore nothing other than my boxer shorts. With my eyes red, my legs numb and my heart beating aggressively, I was still able to ask one final question.

“Super speed?”

They both shook their heads and then looked back at me, “Invisibility!”

“Huh,” I said. “I guess that makes sense.”