2004-02-17 - 10:29 a.m.

Actionhero cheerfully set the rogue nanoswarm death hives on auto, keying them to inflict massive subatomic holocaust on anyone whose genetic signature didn’t match the access information in Man of Mystery Inc. the last time he went on “vacation” some fucking mercenary writers set up shop and turned it into some peyote-and-DC-Comics fueled version of Tiger Beat. Wasn’t gonna happen this time, Chummer. Between the nanoswarm, the smart guns, and Robbie the Roving Robot of Death, Man of Mystery, Inc was going to be locked up tighter than a Japanese School Girl’s poonani---ok, bad analogy but this place was going to be in-fucking-pregnable.

He too the elevator down to the garage and smiled as he saw the newest acquisition: a vintage ’55 El Dorado Convertible. His personal mechanic Suki, who had come with the car, was just finishing buffing the finish for the 20th time, her amber skin glistening as she used her taut Japanese body to simonize the Caddy. Suki had a passion for Caddies that bordered on fetishism and Actionhero didn’t really care how she got her rocks off as long as she reconditioned the leather and kept the moans down to a minimum.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s sweeter than Sailor Moon hentai, Boss.”

“Is she packed?”

“You bet. But, ah tell me something.”

“What?”

“A Caddy’s not exactly your style.”

“Oh you know what my style is?”

“Boss, you got me ‘on indefinite loan’ from Silky and a girl learns a lot about Actionhero around the Pagoda. You’re not a car guy and when you are, it’s usually some kind of Rice Bruner or limo driven by one of ‘Action’s Angels.’”

“’Action’s Angels.’ I like that”

“And you’re a “long coat and dark suit Hong Kong Gunslinger Chic” kind of guy. What’s with the jeans and t-shirt? Where’re the nickel plated .45s and why are you carrying a fucking revolver instead? Where’s the samurai swords and the titanium core escrema sticks? What’s the deal with the chainsaw and baseball bats? I mean, you’re supposed to be all hard-edged Ellroy but now, you’re looking some kind of beatnick drifter. What’s the fucking deal?”

“It’s all part of plan, baby,” Actionhero said, a smile crossing his face as he checked the trunk of the Caddy, making sure all the stuff he needed was there.

“What plan, boss?”

“You big on religion, Suki?”

“Not really, unless you count dressing up in a Catholic School Girl uniform and….”

“No, I don’t. Anyway, every religion needs a book and a prophet. I’ve got the book, and I’m trying to be the prophet. But before I can be that, I’ve got to do what prophets do.”

“And what’s that?’

“Walk the Earth,”

“Like Cain, from Kung-Fu?”

“Exactamundo. Walk the Earth. Get into adventures, bring the World to masses one bad ass adventure at a time. I do it right, they’re gonna be writing sutras and shit about this for a long ass time.”

“But what’s the Word, Boss?,” Suki asked as Actionhero climbed into the Caddy, fired the up the engine and hit the garage door opener. Outside, the night stretched like a prophet’s madness into the Big Nowhere.

“The Tao of Bruce.”

And with that, he roared off into the night, on his way to meet with God and the Devil and whoever else decided to show up.

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