Origins of a Villanous Nature: Issue 5 1/2
Aug 21, 2016 13:01:30 GMT -6
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Post by Wentworth Updegraff Jr. on Aug 21, 2016 13:01:30 GMT -6
Wentworth sits alone in the otherwise empty weapons lab beneath the Updegraff Industries skyscraper. The only light comes from the few emergency, after hours lights that glow in the corners of the large room. The cast a dull orange glow over the mech suit that sits in front of Wentworth. He can’t take his eyes off of the machine. His gaze wander down the hydraulic lines, lazily drifting over the jet black steel plating. He stands to his feet, and runs his hand over the cold metal, a shiver of fear and anticipation running up his spine. He thinks for a minute about the board members who are meeting several stories above him, throwing him out of his own company. He sees their disgusting faces laughing, and filling themselves with food. It’s more than he can bear. Something inside of him shifts, and he immediately drops down and slides himself up into the mech suit.
Wentworth:Al, time to wake up buddy.
Suddenly the inside of the suit lights up with several different display screens.
Al:Welcome, Wentworth Updegraff Jr. All systems are functional.
Wentworth:Good to know. Let’s just hope the fire extinguisher is working.
He takes a few steps, and he is amazed. It feels almost easier than walking without the suit. The quiet mechanical whirring follows along, as he makes his way out of the room and down the hall. He just manages to fit the suit through the elevator door. As the small metal box begins its slow ascent, Wentworth finds himself tapping a large metal foot on the floor to the beat of the bland elevator music that drifts through the speakers. It takes a while, but eventually it reaches the executive floor. Wentworth steps out, blood now pumping in his ears. Adrenaline races through his system as he makes his way through a lobby decorated in gold fixtures.
The carpet dulls his footsteps somewhat, allowing him to hear the voices coming from behind the door of the large boardroom. Wentworth stands outside for a moment, listening to the men laugh and talk, letting the sound bring his blood to a rolling boil. After a few minutes, he thrusts one of the giant arms forward, sending it through the thick, oak door as if it were paper. He uses the strength of the mech to effortlessly rip the double doors from their hinges, and toss them across the room like frisbees.
The looks of terror on the faces of the men sitting at the long table make Wentworth smile. He stomps into the middle of the room, his eyes locked on the man at the end of the table, leading the proceedings.
Wentworth:Hello Wilford. I would say it’s nice to see you, but I was raised not to lie.
Wilford:W-Wentworth? What happened?
Wentworth:What happened? That’s a damn fine question, Mr. Wilford. What in the world happened? Perhaps I’ve gone mad with power since being named interim president. Perhaps I always wanted to be Iron Man growing up. I think the most likely explanation is that I saw what you were doing, and knew I had to stop you. You see, you’re just like the Guardians. You pretend you’re doing things for the good of those around you, when really you’re about nothing more than money and power. Let me ask you a question, Wilford. What sort of man thirsts for money and power as you do?
Before Wilford can say anything, one of the other board members reaches for the phone in the middle of the table and attempts to call security. Wentworth sees him and lowers one of his guns, firing off a round that blows a hole in the man’s chest, and sends his lifeless body crashing into the wall. Wilford stares in horror, Wentworth’s demeanor never changing.
Wentworth:Mr. Wilford, I believe I asked you a question. What sort of man thirsts for money and power as you do? Don’t bother answering. It is a weak man that thirsts so heavily. A strong man, a man with true strength knows there is power in the voice and the motion of his hand. He knows that any money he may need is at his fingertips, because nobody would dare stand against him. That is the lesson I intend to teach you tonight. I am not a man to be trifled with… not that you’ll have the chance after this.
He walks toward the table, approaching Wilford, and aiming one of his guns at the man’s temple.
Wentworth:I’m going to give you one last chance to prove to me you’re even a halfway worthwhile human being. You get to make a choice tonight. One of two things is going to happen. Either I pull this trigger and splatter your brains all over the wall, or I leave you alive, and murder everyone else in the room. It’s all your call.
The man sits in horrified silence, not sure what to stay. Wentworth starts to get angry, and lowers himself so he looks Wilford right in the eye.
Wentworth:Do you think I’m playing some sort of game here? I told you, it’s decision time. Your life… or the lives of your board members?
Wilford shakes, and tears begin to pour silently from his eyes. After a minute or two he blurts out his answer.
Wilford:Them! Take them, please!
A disappointed Wentworth shakes his head.
Wentworth:Wrong answer.
Blood and gray matter sprays across the wall as the explosion temporarily deafens most of the room. The the smoke has cleared, Wentworth turns to the rest of the people with a wide smile.
Wentworth:That was a very bad man… and now he’s gone.
The other board members breathe a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last long. Quickly, Wentworth turns his guns on them, and begins firing indiscriminately. Blood paints the walls, as one by one the well dressed people fall to the ground. When the carnage is finished, and silence falls over the room, Wentworth looks upon what he’s done with a face of mild disinterest.
Wentworth:Not bad… for a test run. I think it’s time to find out how this thing does against the Guardians…
Wentworth:Al, time to wake up buddy.
Suddenly the inside of the suit lights up with several different display screens.
Al:Welcome, Wentworth Updegraff Jr. All systems are functional.
Wentworth:Good to know. Let’s just hope the fire extinguisher is working.
He takes a few steps, and he is amazed. It feels almost easier than walking without the suit. The quiet mechanical whirring follows along, as he makes his way out of the room and down the hall. He just manages to fit the suit through the elevator door. As the small metal box begins its slow ascent, Wentworth finds himself tapping a large metal foot on the floor to the beat of the bland elevator music that drifts through the speakers. It takes a while, but eventually it reaches the executive floor. Wentworth steps out, blood now pumping in his ears. Adrenaline races through his system as he makes his way through a lobby decorated in gold fixtures.
The carpet dulls his footsteps somewhat, allowing him to hear the voices coming from behind the door of the large boardroom. Wentworth stands outside for a moment, listening to the men laugh and talk, letting the sound bring his blood to a rolling boil. After a few minutes, he thrusts one of the giant arms forward, sending it through the thick, oak door as if it were paper. He uses the strength of the mech to effortlessly rip the double doors from their hinges, and toss them across the room like frisbees.
The looks of terror on the faces of the men sitting at the long table make Wentworth smile. He stomps into the middle of the room, his eyes locked on the man at the end of the table, leading the proceedings.
Wentworth:Hello Wilford. I would say it’s nice to see you, but I was raised not to lie.
Wilford:W-Wentworth? What happened?
Wentworth:What happened? That’s a damn fine question, Mr. Wilford. What in the world happened? Perhaps I’ve gone mad with power since being named interim president. Perhaps I always wanted to be Iron Man growing up. I think the most likely explanation is that I saw what you were doing, and knew I had to stop you. You see, you’re just like the Guardians. You pretend you’re doing things for the good of those around you, when really you’re about nothing more than money and power. Let me ask you a question, Wilford. What sort of man thirsts for money and power as you do?
Before Wilford can say anything, one of the other board members reaches for the phone in the middle of the table and attempts to call security. Wentworth sees him and lowers one of his guns, firing off a round that blows a hole in the man’s chest, and sends his lifeless body crashing into the wall. Wilford stares in horror, Wentworth’s demeanor never changing.
Wentworth:Mr. Wilford, I believe I asked you a question. What sort of man thirsts for money and power as you do? Don’t bother answering. It is a weak man that thirsts so heavily. A strong man, a man with true strength knows there is power in the voice and the motion of his hand. He knows that any money he may need is at his fingertips, because nobody would dare stand against him. That is the lesson I intend to teach you tonight. I am not a man to be trifled with… not that you’ll have the chance after this.
He walks toward the table, approaching Wilford, and aiming one of his guns at the man’s temple.
Wentworth:I’m going to give you one last chance to prove to me you’re even a halfway worthwhile human being. You get to make a choice tonight. One of two things is going to happen. Either I pull this trigger and splatter your brains all over the wall, or I leave you alive, and murder everyone else in the room. It’s all your call.
The man sits in horrified silence, not sure what to stay. Wentworth starts to get angry, and lowers himself so he looks Wilford right in the eye.
Wentworth:Do you think I’m playing some sort of game here? I told you, it’s decision time. Your life… or the lives of your board members?
Wilford shakes, and tears begin to pour silently from his eyes. After a minute or two he blurts out his answer.
Wilford:Them! Take them, please!
A disappointed Wentworth shakes his head.
Wentworth:Wrong answer.
Blood and gray matter sprays across the wall as the explosion temporarily deafens most of the room. The the smoke has cleared, Wentworth turns to the rest of the people with a wide smile.
Wentworth:That was a very bad man… and now he’s gone.
The other board members breathe a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last long. Quickly, Wentworth turns his guns on them, and begins firing indiscriminately. Blood paints the walls, as one by one the well dressed people fall to the ground. When the carnage is finished, and silence falls over the room, Wentworth looks upon what he’s done with a face of mild disinterest.
Wentworth:Not bad… for a test run. I think it’s time to find out how this thing does against the Guardians…
