“Damn, this had to happen today.” Mayor Whipstaff muttered, going over the initial report about the freaking terrorist attack on a high school. In his constituency! He had the good bourbon out, eschewing a glass for pulls directly from the bottle. He needed it, too. “Christ, at least this didn’t happen mid-reelection.” His intercom buzzed.

“Sir? There are some, uh, people here to see you…” his receptionist said uncertainly.

“Do they have a f#*&$%&!# appointment?” he barked, rubbing his head. All he wanted to do was take some Valium and crawl into bed with the bottle. Let someone else handle all this.

“No…”

“Then screw ‘em, I don’t care. I’m dealing with the school issue right now, they can wait ‘til the press conference later tonight.” Angrily releasing the button, he muttered darkly at the report. Someone was going to pay dearly for this.

Out at the front desk, the receptionist looked nervously at the costumed people standing in front of her. She slowly edged closer to the lip of the desk, trying to surreptitiously hit the security button. It wasn’t easy with the black-haired woman glaring down at her. But she’d take that over the skull-masked freak any day. His entire countenance was giving her the creeps.

“W-Well, you h-heard him. Th-The mayor will not be seeing anyone t-today.” she said, biting her lip. This wasn’t fair, she’d gotten this cushy job with a push-up bra!

“That’s okay.” The skull-masked figure shrugged. “We don’t need an appointment anyway, we’re here to take the mayor hostage. Corpse Corps Minion B?”

Minion B, the extremely tall woman, drew a Glock and fired into the intercom, then into the desk to hit the emergency button.

“Don’t call me that, ki-boss.” she growled, red-faced and livid. How in the goddamned world did he talk her into this!?

“Oh? But I already have Minion A, we have twenty-four more to go before we have to reorganize the naming scheme.”

“I’m not your minion!” she yelled, slamming a fist on the terrified receptionists’ desk.

“Then why are you in full Corpse Corps uniform, Minion B?” he asked, far too innocently for her liking. She growled and gnashed her teeth, but she had a clear enough head to refrain from chewing him out right there and then. That, she promised herself darkly, would happen later.

“Guys, we really shouldn’t be wasting any time here.” Minion A said nervously, heart thudding in her chest. This was going in an extreme direction. The only reason she’d ever consider doing this was because Scott assured them it was necessary for the plan.

“Indeed, A! Let us hurry!” The skull boss ran off, the women in his wake, as the receptionist quietly slipped into the coatroom, fearing the noisy chaos that was sure to come.

“You’re gonna pay for this, kid.” Cross whispered fiercely at him as they raced down the hall.

“A price I gladly accept. Later though!” Scott replied with glee. “Remember, it’s we do this or everyone dies!” Cross’s eyebrow twitched, twitched dangerously, but she just grumbled as they rounded the corner.

“Stop!” a security guard said, pulling out a Taser.

“A! You’re on!” Scott said, ducking behind her. She turned her head to follow his movement, and in that instant the guard fired. Amber felt the two needles hit her chest, then 10,000 volts surge through her body.

“Ahhh! That hurts!” she growled, shrugging off the pain, not even the worst electric shock she’d received today. She barreled towards the wide-eyed guard, staring at her in amazement. She wasn’t wearing any body armor, she was just a slender young girl, how could she just take a Taser like that!?

She grabbed him and lifted him up, tossing him down the hallway like a bowling ball, tumbling to a stop only when he smacked into the far wall with his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she called back at him. Dazed, he nodded. “Good! Take care of yourself!” She tossed him a thumbs-up and hurried to join the others.

Two more security guards approached, guns drawn after seeing one of them tank a Taser like nothing.

“Freeze! Down on the ground! Now!” The two assailants stopped, the tall one drawing a bead on them. Both guns went to her, seeing as how the skull masked one complied immediately. They never heard him whisper “Go, Tarantulas!”

Out from his backpack slipped Scotts’ latest, greatest creation, after seeing what his zombie rats were capable of. Finding all the spiders was the easy part; it was designing the rest to be capable of what he wanted, while still being light enough was the difficulty.

“Stand down!” a guard ordered, his finger on the trigger.

“Make me.” Cross replied gruffly. He grit his teeth, trying to think of a way to not shoot her, when he saw something zooming on the ground out of the corner of his eye. Pain suddenly blossomed on his shin. His companion screamed and he looked down in horror to see a rat’s head, connected by a stretched-out exposed spinal column to a mass of flesh and bone and covered in other rat’s heads, supported on eight legs of bone like a spider, with feet comprised of countless other tiny arachnid legs. The rat heads not biting him looked up at him and screeched.

“YAAAHHHHHHH!” he howled, trying to kick it off and point his gun at it at the same time. “Get it off! Get it off!”

“Hold still!” His partner tried to kick at it, but only succeeded in whacking his ankle. Scott grinned as he got up.

“What is this thing!?” the guard cried, finally flinging it away, taking a chunk of his own flesh with it. It chittered madly and scurried up the wall. He tracked it with a gun in shaking hands, only to find the skull mask in front of him.

“Sekh.” Scott said, touching him with a finger. He screamed and collapsed, unmoving. The other one swung his pistol around only to receive a chop to the back of the neck from Cross, crumpling him.

“Good Tarantulas, good boy.” Scott cooed as the…creature jumped into his arms like a cat. Cross eyed him warily as Amber caught up, much slower now that his pet was out.

“You’re kinda creepy, you know that?” the detective said.

“Thank you.” he replied modestly, slipping the undead abomination into his backpack. “A proper necromancer should be able to unnerve anyone.”

“Are-are we sure we’re the good guys here?” Amber asked worriedly.

“Good, bad, I’m the guy with the zombies.” Scott said, an unseen grin matching the mask he wore. “Let’s see the mayor.”

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Whipstaff was pouring over the notes, trying to think up a way to come out ahead of this mess. There was some commotion going on outside, but he decided to ignore it.

“It is a dark…no, grave peril we have…no, it’s more like a…trial? It’s more like something…”

The doors burst open and three people in black strode in, two women flanking a skull-masked man.

“What the hell! Who are you people? I demand an-” He froze when the tall woman drew a gun and pointed it right between his eyes.

“Good afternoon, Mayor Whipstaff. I believe there are matters of pressing urgency we must discuss.” the man said pleasantly. Whipstaff was paralyzed, a nervous bead of sweat making its way down his back.

“W-W-Who are you people?” he said nervously, eyes flickering between the gun and the skull.

“I believe the destruction of the local school should clarify my mission statement for you.” Scott said, clasping his hands behind his back. Whipstaff gaped at him. “Nevertheless, that was merely a prelude to what I have in store. Unless, of course, you cooperate nice and-”

“Yes! You have it! Whatever you want, you can have it, it’s yours! Just please, please spare me!” Whipstaff begged, falling to his knees. Scott raised an eyebrow beneath his mask. He hadn’t expected the “much beloved” mayor to capulate so quickly.

“Oooookayyyyy…very well, then!” he cried, rallying. He grabbed the mayor’s shirt and pulled him to his face. “The first thing you’re gonna do is, you’re gonna call an immediate press conference, right here. After all-” He grinned again. This was too much fun. “-I must announce to the world the brilliance and might of Necrysis, master of villainy!”

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Within ten minutes, every TV and radio station in town had been overwritten with the mayor’s emergency broadcast. Dozens of reporters swarmed the steps of city hall, clamoring to be closest to the podium.

“Do you really think the mayor has a good response to this?” the cameraman asked Tamara Nelson, former rising star reporter of Channel 7. She turned to stare at him with a manic gleam in her eye.

“Don’t know, don’t care. But you weren’t there when we got the call, he was super spooked. There’s more going on here than just the incident at the school, I just know it!” She clenched the mic in her fist. She had never been so humiliated in all her life. An interview with a hero? Hah! More like delusion! She grimaced as she thought of it. The only reason she still had a job was because everyone else backed her up that there actually was someone there, there was just no evidence of it. She ground her teeth almost to dust when she was forced to apologize for the ‘prank’, making her the laughingstock of journalism in the northeast. But now she would finally avenge herself! “Get ready, something’s happening!”

That something turned out to be an aide wheeling out a laptop on a cart, hooking it up to the stereo system. The aide turned it on, and several minutes went by while they fiddled with it until everything was ready to go. The mayor appeared on screen, sitting straight upright and pale as a sheet.

“G-Greetings to all of you in Craven Falls,” he began, reading stiffly from a piece of paper. “I, Mayor Whipstaff, will now address concerns regarding today’s recent disaster. This message is currently being broadcast throughout the town, and available twenty-four hours on the local governance website. It is vital that no one panic, as we have requested additional police support from Nahumville to aid in the investigation of the alleged bombing of the school.”

“In the event of a terrorist attack however, I am personally declaring martial law for the next twelve hours.” he said, eyebrow and mustache twitching. This response was tantamount to political suicide. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. “For this duration, all citizens shall henceforth be confined to their homes. Anyone who is found on the streets will be escorted to their place of residence at once. Please, return to your homes effective immediately. In case you are unable to take shelter in a private residence, I am hereby declaring…” He squinted at the paper. “All public spaces to be temporary private residences for the duration, and urge all citizens, including local police forces, to remain inside. Thank you, that will be all.” The feed cut out as the crowd exploded, overwhelming the guards as they swept towards the podium.

FWASH!

There was a boom, and a cloud of smoke erupted from the podium. Once it cleared, it revealed a man wearing a skull mask accompanied by a woman in a low-cut uniform, also masked. The citizens and reporters stopped at this sudden development.

“People of…oh, great. It cut out along with the feed.” he said, trying to fix the mic attached to his collar. Amber rolled her eyes.

“Here.” she said, helping him. The crowd stood in confused silence as they reconnected his mic.

“Got it-oh.” Scott said as his voice came from the speakers, and Amber returned to his side, blushing red as a tomato. She supposed even supervillains had to contend with technical difficulties. “People of Craven Falls, welcome to my Horrorween Extravaganza! Where I, Necroman, the supervillain du jour, treat you all to my show of grotesquerie and slaughter! Even now, my minions are abducting your mayor, fool that he is! He thought he could warn you and spare your lives, but NO! My minions shall lay waste to your fair city! Won’t it be just the grandest spectacle you’ve ever seen?” Scott declared, throwing his head back and gesturing wildly as he spoke.

“B-But it’s not Halloween…” someone from the crowd called out.

“What? So what!” Scott proclaimed, waving his hand dismissively. “Halloween is when I say it is! It has nothing to do with the actual calendar date! Besides, I’m in the mood for some trick or treating! So bow down before me, mortals! Bow before your new lord and master, for I command the secrets of the universe! The primal forces of creation, the pinnacle of all technologies mine to control! My power and foresight greater than you could imagine, far beyond the ken of mortal realms! You may curse your fate, but know that it is I who the winds of destiny now kneel to! There is no greater-”

“You might wanna hurry it up.” Amber muttered, eyeing the police cars pulling up and the officers pouring out, guns drawn.

“Indeed.” he whispered back soberly. “For you shall find yourselves quite without hope for the eternity to come! Behold, the first of my many creations!” He held up his hand and snapped his fingers.

From behind city hall, a dark shape rose and lumbered into view. The assembled crowd screamed, and guns fired at the colossal mass blotting out the cloud-filled sky. The Zombie Titan Mk. 1 let out a moan from its bone countenance, half-hidden behind the building. Scott laughed madly as bullets whizzed by, protected by Amber, and they dashed back inside, the necromancer commanding his creation to return to the woods via the underground tunnel it had been digging all night. The Titan groaned and went back into the earth, acting on previous orders shoring up and filling in the tunnel as it went. Scott’s grin couldn’t get any wider as he watched the crowd panic and flail, attempting to seek refuge wherever they could.

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Back in the mayor’s office, Cross had been coolly holding Whipstaff at gunpoint in silence. They heard the commotion, and Whipstaff licked dry lips.

“Y-You won’t get away with this, you know.” he said, voice cracking. He stared at the barrel nervously. “I don’t know what that guy promised you, but whatever he’s paying you I can double, easily. Triple, even.” His bargain was met with stony silence. “W-Well, they say money isn’t everything. I mean, cash is all well and good, but a secure future-well, that can be a little more inviting to some. Tell you what.” He eyed her up and down, the black uniform snug and flattering, though not as low-cut as Amber’s. He leaned back and gave her his best lustful wink and smile, the one that hadn’t failed to lead many a mayor’s ‘aide’ to his bed yet. “With a full pardon, too. How would you like to work ‘under’ the mayor?”

That got a reaction, at least. If not the one he was hoping for. She coughed and sputtered, taken aback. She had to swallow hard, as she felt bile rise up her throat.

“Aren’t you married?” she said at last, her forehead vein bulging and her gun arm always steady.

“Yeah? What’s that matter between…us?” he said (what he thought) seductively. Cross snorted and rolled her eyes. Whipstaff took that instant to pocket a letter opener.

“Dream on, sleazebag.” Cross said sternly, wishing, wishing oh so very very hard, that she could pull the trigger.

He relief was palpable when Scott and Amber came back, running for dear life.

“Finally,” Cross growled, “can we get this show on the road?”

“Yes, as fast as you can would be good.” Scott said, shaking. His entire body felt wound up and on edge, understandable when one has just committed domestic terrorism. “I hope, mayor, that you will always remember the day Lord Mortem came and graced your pathetic life!”

“…but I thought your name was Necrysis?” Whipstaff asked in confusion. Scott blinked.

“It doesn’t matter, I say whatever my name is and I’m that! I’m testing things out, trying to build a brand here! Got it!?” he bellowed, pointing a gloved finger at him. “Corpse Corps, let’s go.” Cross holstered her gun and they moved to leave. It was then Whipstaff decided to make his move. He jumped up and took Cross’s back, grabbing around her shoulders and pointing the letter opener at her neck. `

“Not so fast!” he cried, grinning in victory. “I didn’t get where I am by playing squeaky clean, and I will not be crossed! You’re all gonna sit here and wait for the cops to show, nice and gentile. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he said into Cross’s ear.

Scott and Amber’s eyes both widened and they took a step back in unison, afraid for their comrade’s life, or so Whipstaff thought. In reality, they now felt the icy grip of terror strike their hearts because Cross was smiling. Not happily, either; her savage grin far eclipsed Scott’s when he was ranting about necromancy.

“Thank you.” she said, and Whipstaff felt a burning fire erupt in his abdomen as Cross drove her elbow into it. She grabbed his arm, flipping him instantly into the ground, and grabbed him by the shirt.

“Ahh! M-Mercy?” he pleaded.

“No.” Cross raised her hand and pummeled him, her fist a blur as her punches machine gunned his face. She let him drop, his face red and misshapen, and rubbed her split knuckles.

“Damn, that felt good.” she said, wrapping a cloth around her hand, satisfied. “Don’t forget, this doesn’t absolve you of OUR little ‘talk’ later.” she tossed at Scott.

“N-No ma’am!” he said, straightening up and saluting. “Jeez, talk about ora ora…”

“What was that?” she snapped.

“Nothing, ma’am!”

“C-C’mon guys, we should go before anyone else shows up.” Amber said, casting concerned looks at the unconscious, drooling mayor. “Um. What was the next step of the plan?”

“I’m glad you asked, Minion A!” Scott said dramatically, whirling on her with a flourish. “The next step is…we rob a jewelry store!”

Silence greeted the necromancers’ proclamation, punctuated by Cross cracking the knuckles of her other hand. Cold sweat started running down his hidden face.

“Are…are we sure we’re still actually the good guys?” Amber asked, desperate.