They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. 'Good, there's a cop,' said Mr. Corpse, pointing to a police car parked three blocks ahead. They picked up their pace and hurried over to the car. Mr. Corpse tapped on the glass, and the police officer rolled down the window. 'This woman has just gone through an extremely traumatic experience,' Mr. Corpse explained. 'She needs medical attention and perhaps some counseling. She'll tell you the whole story.'
'You're the Amazing Mr. Corpse!' said the cop.
Mr. Corpse shook his head. 'No longer. I'm the Sinister Mr. Corpse, and I will bring fear to all who deserve it. You have a new ally in your fight against crime.' He returned his attention to Margaret. 'You'll be safe now, ma'am.'
She gave him a big hug. Mr. Corpse put his facemask back on, and then ran off into the darkness.
'How'd it go?' asked Martin as Stanley climbed into the newly christened Corpsemobile (Martin's Chevy Prizm).
'Saved a lady.'
'Just one?'
'It's not that easy to find crimes in progress! I thought that you couldn't go two blocks in this city without stumbling upon a mugging, but, jeez, I was walking all over the place without finding anything. But I did save a lady. And I helped a dog that had its leg caught in a grate. That was a pretty good night's work.'
'And you're sure this is the approach you want to take? Soaking up wisdom would be a lot less dangerous.'
'I'm sure. If I'm invulnerable, I should use that gift to benefit society. Oh, good call on the bulletproof vest, by the way. It's much more pleasant when bullets don't break the skin.'
'No problem.'
Brant and Veronica sat in the Project Second Chance office, watching the woman on television explain that Mr. Corpse had saved her from being raped and perhaps killed. The camera zoomed in on the business card.
They sat there for a very long time without speaking.
'So…he's a superhero now?' asked Brant.
'Looks like it.'
'Is this good or bad?'
'I don't know.'
They continued to stare at the television screen.
'I guess it's good,' said Veronica. 'He's alive, at least.'
'You have a point there.'
'And I guess it's better than having him go on a crime spree.'
'Indeed.'
They stared at the television some more.
'So now what?' Veronica asked.
'I don't know.'
'Should we have a drink?'
'Yes. Let's do that.'
'I'm still not sure I like the name The Sinister Mr. Corpse,' Martin admitted, as he and Stanley sat in their cheap motel room, sharing a bag of pretzels.
'It's catchy. It has a nice rhythm to it.'
'I just think it's too dark. I liked Amazing.'
'We've been over this. The two things I've got going for me in my fight against crime are that I can't be killed and that I'm scary looking. So I need a scary name.'
'We could've focused on the not-being-killed part. You could be the Invulnerable Mr. Corpse.'
'I'm not invulnerable. What do you want me to be, the Quick-Healing Mr. Corpse? Ooooh, that'll strike fear into the hearts of evil men!'
'I know, I know, but what about The Terrifying Mr. Corpse? You're not really all that sinister.'
'Yes I am.'
'What have you done today that was sinister?'
'It's a cool name, okay?'
'I agree, but 'sinister' implies that there's plotting going on or something like that. Scaring bad guys isn't sinister. Sinister is all about the attitude.'
'Well, we've already made the business cards,' said Stanley. 'You should've said something sooner.'
'I did! I said it eighty times! You told me to shut up about it!'
'I think you should go back to calling me 'sir.''
'I think you should keep dreaming.'
'Well, I'm the one out there making the world safe for democracy, so I get to pick the name. You can pick your own sidekick name.'
'I'm not your sidekick. I'm your handler.'
'How about this? The Sinister Mr. Corpse and his trusty sidekick Alive Boy?'
'Bite me.'
Stanley chuckled. 'I did save a woman tonight, though. It felt good. I think I was destined to be a crime fighter. I've already got the action figures.'
'What do you think Veronica and Mr. Brant are thinking right now?'
'I'm sure they're pleased.'
'Uh-huh. Because Mr. Brant wouldn't happen to be a control freak or anything like that.'
'Brant is welcome to smooch my superhuman buttocks.'
'Until you run out of injections.'
'Yeah, until then.' Stanley stuffed three pretzels into his mouth. 'He's not gonna withhold them from me. You don't let your meal ticket ooze away. Anyway, I'm actually making myself more marketable for him.'
The idea that Brant might withhold his injections out of spite had certainly crossed Stanley's mind, but he chose not to dwell on it. He had to do this. He had to justify his existence.
He hadn't told Martin that he was a supernatural abomination. Martin would probably understand (he was pretty liberal) but still, it wasn't something he was ready to admit. Hell, Martin might not even believe him. Black magic? Witchcraft? That stuff was all supposed to be a load of crap. And being kept alive by virgin blood…that was just plain creepy.
He wondered who the virgins were.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The following evening, the criminal underworld let out a collective shudder as The Sinister Mr. Corpse prowled the streets. His rage was infinite, his mercy non-existent.
At least that's what Stanley hoped people were thinking. To tell the truth, hanging out in the shadows was pretty tedious. He had Martin researching the availability of police scanners, so that maybe they could get news about crimes in progress, but for now he was relying on his crime-seeking instincts, which apparently sucked.
Maybe he needed a Corpse Signal. A shining beacon that the mayor could use when evil was afoot. It could
