Post by starskyhutch76 on Dec 15, 2018 2:30:41 GMT
The haggard man stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his boxers. "You look like crap, Roger," he said to his reflection, taking notice of the stress related bags under his eyes cause from poor sleep.
The lower half of his face covered in shaving cream. Shaving was just one of many things he was having to get used to again after so many years. The first casualty of having to become reacquainted with it had been his mustache. One wrong swipe had left it uneven. A second swipe to attempt to correct the situation had made it even worse. Finally, he had been forced to shave it off unless he wanted to go around looking like Adolf Hitler. No need for that. He was trying to get out of the villain game, after all.
He brought the razor to his face for a downward stroke and let out a startled cry. “Aigh!”
He cursed as he brought his fingers up to the spot where the thick green glowing liquid that was his blood began to mix with the shaving cream. He tossed the disposable razor in the trash and opened his medicine cabinet to get a fresh one.
When he shut the medicine cabinet, he let out another startled cry. Instead of his own reflection, he was greeted by the sinisterly handsome blond visage of Neron. Behind him, he could see the flickering flames of the fires of Hell, a painful reminder of the deal he had made that brought him to his current physical state.
“Mr. Corben,” Neron said with a menacing glare, “you’re not living up to your part of our deal.”
“Some deal!” Roger Corben exclaimed. “Thanks to you, I’m more vulnerable than ever!”
“Whatever do you mean?” Neron said with a sardonic smile. “Your powers haven’t changed.
“My wish…”
“Your wish was that your enemies would no longer be able to reach into your mechanical chest and disable you by removing the chunk of Kryptonite or uranium or plutonium or whatever rock happens to currently be functioning as your heart. Ergo, you are no longer mechanical.”
“You’re damn right I’m not!” Corben exclaimed. “I can feel pain now! I can bleed! I can die!”
“Excuse the irony, my dear Roger,” Neron said drolly, “but that is your cross to bear. I swear, you modern mortals never keep up with classic literature. There is always a twist to these deals.”
“This is not what I expected!”
“And that’s your problem, Mr. Corben,” Neron said. “Not mine. Winslow Schott already managed to swindle me out of his soul…. Though he seems to be sending me quite a few others now. Don’t think I’m going to let you suddenly retire from villainy because you would rather cower in your current dump of an apartment under an assumed name. Everyone with whom I have struck a deal has their part to play.”
“There’s no way I can go up against Superman now! He could kill me without even meaning to!” Corben exclaimed in fright.
Neron threw his head back in laughter. “My, you think highly of yourself. I have someone far more qualified than you to deal with Superman. You, however… since you have chosen to slum it in a false identity as a janitor at Midvale Junior High School… are in a perfect position to deal with Super… boy.”
“Superboy?”
“Yes. In case you haven’t been paying attention, there is a new one now. I don’t want to wipe out Superman only to have a successor pick his mantle up in a few years. I think you should be capable of handling him,” Neron said.
“Okay,” Roger Corben sighed.
“Don’t look so glum,” Neron said with a cruel smile. “Be truthful now. Have you not enjoyed being able to revisit old pleasures again, such as being able to eat?”
“Actually, right now, what I could really use is a good stiff drink,” Corben groaned.
Neron threw his head back in laughter once more. “That’s the spirit!”
The lower half of his face covered in shaving cream. Shaving was just one of many things he was having to get used to again after so many years. The first casualty of having to become reacquainted with it had been his mustache. One wrong swipe had left it uneven. A second swipe to attempt to correct the situation had made it even worse. Finally, he had been forced to shave it off unless he wanted to go around looking like Adolf Hitler. No need for that. He was trying to get out of the villain game, after all.
He brought the razor to his face for a downward stroke and let out a startled cry. “Aigh!”
He cursed as he brought his fingers up to the spot where the thick green glowing liquid that was his blood began to mix with the shaving cream. He tossed the disposable razor in the trash and opened his medicine cabinet to get a fresh one.
When he shut the medicine cabinet, he let out another startled cry. Instead of his own reflection, he was greeted by the sinisterly handsome blond visage of Neron. Behind him, he could see the flickering flames of the fires of Hell, a painful reminder of the deal he had made that brought him to his current physical state.
“Mr. Corben,” Neron said with a menacing glare, “you’re not living up to your part of our deal.”
“Some deal!” Roger Corben exclaimed. “Thanks to you, I’m more vulnerable than ever!”
“Whatever do you mean?” Neron said with a sardonic smile. “Your powers haven’t changed.
“My wish…”
“Your wish was that your enemies would no longer be able to reach into your mechanical chest and disable you by removing the chunk of Kryptonite or uranium or plutonium or whatever rock happens to currently be functioning as your heart. Ergo, you are no longer mechanical.”
“You’re damn right I’m not!” Corben exclaimed. “I can feel pain now! I can bleed! I can die!”
“Excuse the irony, my dear Roger,” Neron said drolly, “but that is your cross to bear. I swear, you modern mortals never keep up with classic literature. There is always a twist to these deals.”
“This is not what I expected!”
“And that’s your problem, Mr. Corben,” Neron said. “Not mine. Winslow Schott already managed to swindle me out of his soul…. Though he seems to be sending me quite a few others now. Don’t think I’m going to let you suddenly retire from villainy because you would rather cower in your current dump of an apartment under an assumed name. Everyone with whom I have struck a deal has their part to play.”
“There’s no way I can go up against Superman now! He could kill me without even meaning to!” Corben exclaimed in fright.
Neron threw his head back in laughter. “My, you think highly of yourself. I have someone far more qualified than you to deal with Superman. You, however… since you have chosen to slum it in a false identity as a janitor at Midvale Junior High School… are in a perfect position to deal with Super… boy.”
“Superboy?”
“Yes. In case you haven’t been paying attention, there is a new one now. I don’t want to wipe out Superman only to have a successor pick his mantle up in a few years. I think you should be capable of handling him,” Neron said.
“Okay,” Roger Corben sighed.
“Don’t look so glum,” Neron said with a cruel smile. “Be truthful now. Have you not enjoyed being able to revisit old pleasures again, such as being able to eat?”
“Actually, right now, what I could really use is a good stiff drink,” Corben groaned.
Neron threw his head back in laughter once more. “That’s the spirit!”