Mobsters and Superheroes and Attempted Rescues...Oh My!

For a few minutes after the phone call I simply stared at the dreaded instrument.

I had done it. I'd called even though I'd sworn to myself that I'd never do it.

I briefly considered regretting my actions but it was too late for that. Every second I spend on regret is a second spent NOT eating cheesecake, so forget it is what I say.

In that spirit, I shook it off mentally and moved slowly out of the office. I braced myself against the door before leaving and took a deep breath to fortify myself against the pain in my head. My next move was to leave Basecamp and head for Room 106 to get some Aleve. I was fine until I reached the hallway and saw the remains of Shaggy's wings lying on the floor. Dropping to my knees as my stomach clenched, I barely avoided landing in my own vomit when I fell over.

It was most certainly NOT my finest hour.

About an hour later Vito Cantara arrived with five large thugs. Somehow they managed to get into the Saltmine without setting off the alarm. One minute I was sitting in Room 106 trying to breathe deeply, the next there were 6 guys walking into my room with suspicious bulges under the arms of their expensive suit jackets.

Each of these guys was as large and ugly as the last. One of them in particular offended me, not with his mob couture but by the fact that he had evidently bathed in Drakkar Noir. Don't get me wrong, ordinarily the cologne would not have bothered me, but the copious amount he had used was making my head pound in earnest... I was afraid of a repeat of my recent performance in the hall outside Room 117.

Luckily, before I had a chance to vomit up the remaining contents of my stomach, Vito noticed my distress and sent "Butters" to wait out in the hallway as a safety precaution.

He then sat down at one of the larger desks, making it look like he was an enormous kindergartener... with a mustache. He raised an eyebrow and in a droll tone with the scratchy voice of a two-pack-day man said, "You rang?"

I told him the entire grisly tale.

For several long moments he was silent. Then he reached into an inner pocket, took out an absurdly tiny cell phone, pressed a button, and said, "Get me information on Kenneth Andreas and Red Shiruken." There was a brief pause before he said, "Not good enough. You've got ten minutes," and snapped the phone shut. Looking at me again he said, "Do you still remember how to drive a tank?"

I nodded.

And just like that, a rescue plan was set in motion.