Continued from… Good Boys Part 4

“You’re a good egg, Ned. Now, double-time, my parking meter’s running!”

Flynn hangs up, sitting on a Tokyo parkbench.

He reaches into his pocket, where’s he stuck a ziploc bag of popcorn…

He stuffs binoculars up to his eyes…

…Through the scope, what’s he see?

But, those plucky teenage heroes! The Integri-Team! At a busy intersection, wearing orange vests… Helping schoolchildren cross the street.

Students high-five them as they pass…

The Giant Robot (with four colored pilotable components: one torso, two arms and one… groin?) waves politely at the pedestrian-youngsters.

Flynn sneers. “Ugh… Integri-teens…”

Flynn fishes his Motorola Razr out of his pocket… And punches in a number.

Riiiiii-*click*.

“IRWIN!”

“Ahhh! Sir, you startled me a-GAIN!”

…

“...Irwin, after this trip is wrapped, you’re going to walk me through the best way to WARN someone before *they* ANSWER A PHONE.”

“...Maybe, a beeper?”

“SILENCE. UPDATE ME. Have you contacted our yakuza theatre troupe?”

“Took me longer than expected, sir... I couldn’t actually find a website with yakuza contact information…”

“BUT, a little dark-web digging… and I found an email address!”

“PERFECTION, Irwin. So, they’re on-board?”

“...Well, sir… they confirmed receipt of my email… But, then, they missed this morning’s rehearsal. AND they skipped the breakfast I organized at our hotel. They didn’t even acknowledge my follow-up message, where I recommended parking spots and carpool options for the bank!”

“Goddamn prima-donna actors, Irwin. They just wanna SHOW-UP and NOT TAKE DIRECTION? YOU’RE THE WRANGLER, IRMANO! WRANGLE their ASSES.”

“Y-y-yessir!”

“Just ensure one of them says ‘I have a license to rob this bank’, so then I can say ‘IT’S JUST BEEN REVOKED’.”

“...What?”

“Good guys say COOL LINES when they stop crime. I need someone to set me up to say ‘IT’S JUST BEEN REVOKED’.”

“...If the robber had a license to rob the bank, wouldn’t that make what he’s doing legal?”

“...Wel-”

“And are you, as a private party, allowed to revoke a license to rob the bank? You’re neither elected official, nor government employee.”

“...Okay, se-”

“Also, why would a Japanese robber say that line… in English?”

“YOU’RE OVERTHINKING IT, IRWIN. JUST GET SOMEONE TO SAY IT.”

“...Okay… Will do, sir.”

“Fantastic, YOU wrangle talent. NED will bring the positive reputation… And *I* will handle… the last part of the plan.”

“The champagne truck? Already ordered, sir. As hero-ey as you requested.”

“Glorious, Irwin. But, I meant those DAMN Integri-Teens!”

“...Those kids with the mecha?”

The sound of shuffling papers. “...The Integri-Teens aren’t outlined in your plan at all, Mister Flynn.”

“Yes, and I’m keeping it that way! If those CHILDREN get anywhere NEAR the robbery, they might INTERFERE! They could outshine me and DEFEAT THE WHOLE PURPOSE OF THE OPERATION. I already have to share the spotlight with NED, I don’t need THREE GLORYLEECHES STEALING MY HERO POINTS!”

“...Sir, if I may point out… I think we’re veering away from this mission’s original purpose, you doing go-”

“DON’T POINT THINGS OUT TO ME, IRWIN. JUST DO YOUR JOB.”

*click*

Flynn returns the binos to his eyes.

“Goddamn kids… Stealing MY HERO-OP! No respect for their elders!”

The Integri-teens, meanwhile, assist an octogenarian across the street.


***

Flynn creeps along Tokyo’s alleyways…

As the Integri-Team walkabout in their giant robot…

Everywhere they go, Creating a parade of excited screams and friendly faces …

…While Flynn HATED how much these FAKE HEROES were loved, without all the high-fives and selfie requests, Flynn couldn’t keep up with a fifty-foot tall robot on-foot…

Flynn chuckles nefariously BENEVOLENTLY, as he scoops another popcorn handful from his pocket…

“These… super-NERDS… They’re playing PERFECTLY into my ha-...”

…

“...No…” Flynn double-checks through the binoculars… The Fifty-Foot Robot screeches to a halt…

“Noooooooooo-no-no-no-no-C’MOOOOOOOOOOON!” The three robot pilots exit their building-sized mecha…

…At the Tokyo National Bank’s parking lot.

Flynn grabs his temples with both hands.

“FUCK! FUUUUUUUUCK! …Why here?!?! WHY NOW?!?!”

The three exit their robot and… lean against its giant metal foot. One begins texting non-chalantly.

“No… No-no-no-no-no…” Flynn checks his watch… “The robbery’s starting in twenty minutes! If they’re even in the same ZIP CODE as when things kick off… they’ll get involved! They’ll get credit for EVERYTHING!!!!”

…

“But… what if… I were to put their robot…” Flynn snickers, wringing his hands. “Out of commission… Ohoho, delightfully devilish HEROIC, Flynn!”

Flynn retrieves from his pocket… a wrench! The same wrench he used to dis-arm (pardon-the-pun) RoboGravy last Warfare!

Flynn sneaks around the bank’s alley, stealthily…

“A couple screws loosened… The mech falls to pieces… And finally, a TRUE GOOD GUY gets to shine!”

Flynn comes around the bank’s rear…

Where… Standing outside the bank’s rear entrance…

Is a familiar sleeveless shirt… Isaiah King’s!

“King?!?” Flynn sneers. “What are YOU at a bank for? Opening a high-interest savings account?”

Flynn glances down and sees Isaiah… holding a metal bat.

“...By any means necessary?”

…Isaiah flips the bat in his grip, business-end towards himself, demonstrating he means no harm… to Flynn. “…Why I am here is of no consequence.”

“...Ooooooohh, mysteeeeeeeeeeerious.” Flynn wiggles his fingers mockingly, before stuffing his wrench in his back-pocket. “I USED TO BE MYSTERIOUS.” Flynn stuffs a thumb toward his own chest. “An enigma! UNKNOWABLE! Now, EVERYONE acts like I CAN’T CHANGE!!! They think they can ASSUME my actions based on…” Finger-quotes “previously-established long-term behavioral patterns . How BULLSHIT is that!?!”

…Isaiah lifts an eyebrow, perplexedly. “...Wha-”

“SHHH!” Flynn shushes. He hugs the wall, retrieving his binoculars…

The Integri-Teens obliviously text, leaning on a gigantic robot foot.

“Phew, Still clueless…”

SNAP! In a flash, Flynn’s super-magnified vision! STRIPPED away! Flynn peers around, confused.

Above him, King glances through his binos… “What are *you* doing here, Flynn? And how does it involve… those three…”

SWACK! Flynn snaps the binos out of King’s grip. “Nederick and I are on a top-secret HERO mission. HEROES ONLY.” Flynn winks at King. “See? *I* can be mysterious, too! In fact, I’m the BEST at being mysterious.”

“Ah.” King says, itching his nose, disinterestedly. “And I suppose you and Ned, in your… *heroic* efforts, are collaborating with those stalwart adolescents?”

“WRONG-WRONG-WROOOOOOOOONG.” Flynn spits, irritatedly. “See, if those meddling Integri-teens (and their darn robot) get involved, they’ll… INTERFERE! INTERLOPE! And otherwise INTERJECT! Ned and I can handle stopping this robbery, so…” Flynn retrieves his wrench once-more and shakes it at Isaiah. “I’m reducing an UNNECESSARY variable from the equation…” Flynn snickers, nefariously GOOD-GUY-ILY.

…

“Hmm.”

…Flynn side-eyes King. “WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS ‘hmmm’ MY PLANS? I don’t NEED your bad-guy-thoughts on my good-guy-plans, King. Keep your HMMMS TO YOURSELF.”

…

King scratches his nose.

“FINE!” Flynn howls. “GOD, IF IT’LL SHUT YOU UP…” Flynn exhales, impatiently. “SPEAK. What’s the problem?!?”

“Crippling a trio of… crime-fighting teenagers… doesn’t seem particularly heroic.”

Flynn shakes his head. “INCORRECT! Because, they’re not REAL HEROES. They’re like Kido! Or Bourbon! Or THEO PRYCE! They’re assholes-in-hero-costumes! Just as selfish and boo-able as I am.”

…

“Er, as I WAS! They’re more selfish now! Now that I’m a GOOD GUY!”

“...Hmmm.”

Flynn irritatedly grunts, shoving the binoculars up to Isaiah. “Look for yourself! USE YOUR EYES! ANYONE WITH A SPARE BRAINCELL CAN SEE THERE’S SOMETHING OFF ABOUT THOSE INTEGRI-TEENS!”

…King lifts the binoculars…

Through the scope, he sees the robot, auto-piloting, scooping a balloon, stuck in tree branches… It delivers the balloon to a crying child. She smiles and hugs the robot’s finger.

“My-my. Truly despicable, Flynn.”

Flynn glances, seeing the balloon-rescue… And sneers. “Bad timing. But, there are RED FLAGS a-plenty!” Flynn taps his temple, insisting that King open his mind. “RIDDLE-ME-THIS… Why are there THREE Integri-Teens… but four parts to the robot? Isn’t that suspicious?”

“From my research (tailing Ned at the Mecha Museum), during a heroic adventure, with the world at stake, their fourth member, Marvin, fell in the line-of-duty. A noble sacrifice.”

…Flynn spits. “Okay… But, ANSWER THIS! What’s with the RADIO WIRE coming from the top of their GIANT ROBOT?!?” Flynn points!

Indeed, atop the robot’s head is a remote-control wire. It wiggles in the wind as the robot stands stoically.

“If the teens command their robots using INTERNAL controls … Why does it need a remote-control wire?!?”

“Likely, a secondary control. If, while fighting a kaiju, the robot’s internal controls were destroyed… Remote-control would allow the teens to escape danger AND battle on.”

…Flynn scratches his head. “...Okay… Fair answers. But, WHY are they called the Integri-TEENS… when Oliver Main is like 28 YEARS OLD?!?!”

…

Isaiah scratches his chin. “Actually, that is peculiar.”

Flynn pumps his fist! “HAHA! See, I’m correct about ONE thing. And thus, logically, I’m correct about ALL of it.” Flynn points accusatorily at his mecha-pilot foes… “CLEARLY, those TEENS aren’t REAL good guys! They’re only doing this for SELFISH reasons! Glory! Cheers! mayoral-handshakes!”

“Truly devious. Could you *imagine* someone only *pretending* to be good, solely to derive benefits from their fake-heroism?”

“I KNOW, RIGHT!?! Fuckin’ DE-PLO-RA-BLE.” Flynn nods…

…

“WAITAMINUTE…” Flynn stink-eyes King. “...Was that a snide remark about me?!? Are you insinuating I’m only a GOOD GUY to further my career?!?”

…

Isaiah lets his silence speak volumes.

“FEH!” Flynn bats that accusation away. “It’s DIFFERENT, King. I WANT to be a Good Guy. I’ve DECIDED to be one! But…” Flynn shakes his head. “No one actually thinks I *want* to be good.”

…

Flynn clenches his fist. “So, I HAVE TO DO THIS. I HAVE to bend-rules and skew-variables… and occasionally-pour-sugar-into-the-gas-tank-of-a-fifty-foot-mecha… Or people will NEVER BELIEVE I’m GOOD.”

Flynn nods at Isaiah. “You get that, right, King? We’re both HUNTERS at heart. We both know… Once you’ve got your target in your sights… Finish the hunt. BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY…”

…Isaiah clears his throat.

“You know what my least-favorite idiom is, Mark?”

…

Flynn’s eyebrow twitches. “...Idiom?”

“Figure-of-speech.”

“I KNOW WHAT IDIOMS ARE.”

“Good. We’re on the same page. Know which one I hate?”

Flynn scratches his head. “...Is it ‘a stitch in time saves nine’? What does that even MEAN? How could knittery save NINE LIVES?!? WHAT ARE YOU STITCHING, LIFEBOATS?!?!”

…

“No. I’ve never liked ‘A leopard can’t change its spots’.”

Isaiah points at his eyes.

“See, a leopard’s spots? Are an exterior feature. Designed to aid the leopard to blend into its environment… Non-hunters use this idiom to claim people can’t change their internal behavior.”

“But, A leopard’s spots aren’t behavioral.”

“A better idiom would come from snakes. Snakes shed their skin. When they do, they change colors, scale texture... Some appear as a whole new species. But its behavior never changes. Much like a giant moth and moth both being attracted to light, the snake, before-and-after shedding, hunts exactly the same way.”

“Regardless of its exterior, the snake remains the same internally.”

…Flynn squints, trying to add two-and-two…

“...So, you’re saying… IF a guy WANTED to be good… He’s gotta change his inner machinations… Instead of APPEARING like a good guy. Cuz changing your skin leaves your… insides the same?”

…King half-smiles mischievously. “I dunno, Flynn. I’m just telling you about snakes.”

...A vein visibly pulsates in Flynn’s forehead. He grits his teeth angrily.

“...Someone here is an idiot…”

…

Flynn exhales.

“And it’s IRWIN! How did he think his TERRIBLE plan would work?!?”

Isaiah purses his lips thoughtfully. “If you’ve made a mistake, correct it as quickly as possible…”

Flynn grimaces. “...There’s gotta be a more elegant way to phrase that.”

“There is. A stitch-in-time saves nine.”

…

Flynn stews angrily, trying to craft a comeback that ends this conversation, asserting his mental superiority…

BEEP! Isaiah’s pocket chirps.

In a flash, King flips his bat, business-side out… And disappears inside the bank.

…Just as Flynn’s face lights up.

“OH YEAH! Well… What’s GOOD for the goose?!? Is Go-”

Flynn spins around. Isaiah is gone… And he’s alone.

…

“Ugh. Stupid King. What a wrong…. IDIOT…”

…

Flynn sighs. “...But… listening to him be *incorrect*… *I* realized was correct all along… This fake-bank-robbery might be a… BAD idea.”

…Flynn fishes his phone from his pocket… And opens up texts.

“Ned…” Flynn speaks as he texts. “About… the rob-” …Flynn glances upwards… And gasps!

A white stretch limo pulls up beside the Integri-Teens!

Flynn lifts the binos… Suddenly, piling outta the car, rough customers in suits… Wielding bats, chains, guns!

“Crud! That’s… one of them… OH! Kabukis! Japanese mafia!” Flynn bites his lip. “And the kids aren’t in their big robot!”

…

“Heheh, sucks to be them.”

…Suddenly, from the mob of mobsters, one approaches the teens… With a suitcase…

One teen retrieves a cigarette… The mafia lifts and opens the case…



…The teen nods toward Ollie Main, who retrieves from his pocket… a shell? He hands it over…

“What the HELL is happening? I can’t hear a THING from here…” He dives onto his arms-and-knees, crawling forward…

He squats behind a parked car… a few-dozen feet away…

“...’s settled then?”



“Half? Twenty-five percent.”



…





***



***

“GASP! Japanese mafia?!? Plotting a robbery!!!”

…

“Same day and time as my fake one?…Weird coincidence…”

…Flynn rapidly crawls toward the bank… Fishing his phone from his pocket.

“IRWIN!”

“AH!”

“STOP BEING SURPRISED! CANCEL THE ROBBERY! We’ve got a REAL CRIME on our hands! The Integri-Teens are in cahoots with the KABUKI!”

“...Kabuki?”

“THE JAPANESE MAFIA.”

“Sir, I think you’ve mixed u-”

“NEVER CORRECT ME! JUST DO IT!”

Flynn throws it open the bank’s front door, flipping his phone to text…

“NED… EM-ER-GEN-CY!” Flynn attempts to text (like an old man, with his index finger).

“Flynn? You talking to me?”

Flynn turns upward and sees Kaye in a wire transfer line.

“NED!?!” …Flynn fumes. “GODDAMMIT, why is EVERYONE at this bank?”

“...You told me to be here… To stop the robbery?”

“THAT’S…” Flynn eyes his wrist. “FOUR MINUTES FROM NOW!”

WHAM! Suddenly, goons-in-suits storm through the bank’s rear! Wielding guns, bats and chains!

“...Crud!” Kaye clenches his fist. “Looks like the robbers are ahead of schedule.”

Flynn shakes his head, standing upright. “No-no! Hold up! Cancel…! Er, Maybe RAIN-CHECK!”

“DOWN ON THE GROUND!” The robber fires into the ceiling! The bank floor’s patrons all drop to the ground.

“Wow, great blanks…” Flynn looks up impressed, as bits of particleboard fall to the floor. “...But NONE OF THEM HAVE SET UP MY LINE! Goddammit, END SCENE! BLACKOUT!” Flynn shouts.

…One mobster gently bowls across the floor… A small metal canister.

Flynn exasperatedly scoops the thing off the ground. “Dammit.”

“Flynn! GRENADE!” Ned warns, as he turns over a bank lobby coach for cover.

Flynn scoffs, trying to come clean. “No, Ned! It’s like a… theatre prop! Watch!”

Flynn bowls the grenade back toward the ga-



***

Flynn.

Dressed like a college basketball coach. Red sweater and slacks. Classic Bobby Knight.

In front of a whiteboard. Red marker in-hand.

“Now, see… The gameplan I had in mind…”

Flynn draws a square, which he fills with four X’s.

“Over our first two promos, the team PSYCHOLOGICALLY ROUTES *Team* Drunkey Kong from EVERY CONCEIVABLE ANGLE!”

Flynn surrounds the X’s with four O’s!

“Sidney’s ALCOHOL ABUSE!”

Draws an arrow from O to X!

“Cent’s BRITTLE OLD-MAN BONES!”

Another O-to-X!

“Jay Omega’s CONSTANT FAILURE in big-match enviroments!”

Once more O-to-X!

“And Vagabond’s! …Well, honestly, Vagabond’s whole deal.”

Final O-to-X!

“And with MECHANICAL RUTHLESSNESS! WITH FLAWLESS EXECUTION! Team G00D-B01 would OVERLOAD, OVERRUN and OVERCOME Sidney Grey and her menagerie of misfits, by DIVIDING their TEAM.”

…

“That… WAS the plan.”

Flynn scrubs away the arrows with a dry-eraser…

“Of course, that was before we saw Drunkey Kong in action.”

Flynn erases the square around the X’s. And instead, sketches two lines… Completely separating the X’s.

“A team in name only. Lost flunkies. Four headless chickens, running in circles, bleeding on the ground. Too stupid to realize that they’re already dead.”

“Sidney Grey is a drunken, self-pitying CHILD. (And when I say ‘child’, I mean mentally, not physically).”

Flynn draws above one X a bottle of wine poured onto its top…

“Wallowing in self-pity over the betrayal of Gina Van Zyl, who is IRRELEVANT. She’s harassing Ruby, who is RETIRED. She drafted Cent JUST TO FUCK WITH RUBY. Ol’ Sidders is so busy stabbing flimsy words at ghosts, she doesn’t see the army CHARGING, ready to run her THE FUCK THROUGH.”

“And her underlings…” Flynn tsk-tsks.

“Did you see Jay Omega’s promo?”

Flynn draws a ray-gun next to another X… pointed at itself.

“Whining and moaning about how he hasn’t heard a word from his teammates? That he’s anticipating having to battle four-on-one? That he isn’t sure whether SUBMISSIONS count in a WARGAMES MATCH?!!?”



“...THAT’S how disorganized Team Drunkey Kong is. They’re still not sure about the BASIC RULES OF THE MATCH!”

“Meanwhile, Cent...”

Flynn draws a beard and glasses on an X.

“Feels like Cent is ready to either get attacked Sidney at the bell’s ring OR attack her himself…”

Flynn covers his mouth like he’s sharing a secret. “Hey, Cent, ol’ teammate o’ mine? Team F.U.C.K.T.H.A.D.! …You know what made our team work when we won the whole thing? We actually WORKED TOGETHER.”

“Holy shit, have ANY of these fucking goons made an appearance in ANY of eachother’s promos?!? Are they planning on strategizing the NIGHT OF THE SHOW?!? Maybe not even that! Maybe they’re just gonna get in the ring and wing it!”

“Jesus Christ, how sad is it when the only competitor actually referencing TEAMWORK is FUCKING VAGABOND! I never would have predicted that firing ol’ Vagoo and subbing in Sidney Grey would be a DOWNGRADE!”

Flynn grins…

“But, here we are.”

“Team G00D-B01 is a TEAM. Facing FOUR individuals.”

Flynn draws a Giant circle around the O’s… Then, an arrow SMEARS each X.

“And we will DECIMATE… not an opposing team… But four LOOSELY-joined individuals.”

Flynn flips the board, dusting his hands proudly.

“On Sunday… We don’t even have to divide-and-conquer.”

“You four are already divided.”

Flynn scratches away the four X’s.

“Which only leaves…. the conquering.”