Bad News

By Daniel Aegan

When the media worships superheroes, the people will follow. So, what happens when someone decides to flip the script?

 

Randy "Figs" Figueroa is a man on a mission. He wants the superhero community held to the same standards as the ones they've labeled as supervillains, making them accountable for their action and inactions. He's gotten a new job at VNN, a cable news network on the brink of circling the proverbial drain. When he changed the network's format to reflect a more villainous state of mind, he never expected it to erupt in such a spectacular manner.

 

As Figs soon finds out, however, there's always a reaction to change, and none are bigger than the one coming from the superhero community as they lash out against him and VNN. A trenchant priest called Father Badass has his sights set on Figs, leading up a cast of do-gooders like the electrifying Silver Stunner, the Amazon turned dominatrix crime fighter Masked Mistress, and indestructible powerhouse Mr. Hardcore—just to name a few.

 

Meanwhile, Figs has a wide array of anchors and producers dogging his every move. Robin Sacks—VNN's premiere anchor—has an agenda of his own, and he doesn't care who knows it. Mindy Greene sees the changes as troublesome, and she's vocal about how much she refuses to take in the name of change. Topping off the VNN hierarchy is Brett Vernon, son of billionaire mogul Jeb Vernon—head of the network.

 

In Bad News, Daniel Aegan explores the world of televised news in a world full of superhumans, cosmic egos, and a translucent veil between hero and villain that paints a vivid interpretation of real life. Can Figs deal with the consequences of his network's actions while dealing with the inflated personalities he's forced to cultivate and create to keep the news fresh and entertaining, or will a culture where ratings equal disaster prove to be his and VNN's undoing?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Freedom Lane Publishing
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215709894

Book preview

Copyright 2023 Daniel Aegan

Published by Freedom Lane Publishing

This book is not to be copied or distributed, electronically or otherwise, without the express permission of its author.

Cover & imagery by Daniel Aegan using copyright-free imagery & fonts.

This is a work of fiction. All names, locales, businesses, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons—living or dead—or events is purely coincidental. The New Millennium Alliance has not given their consent for their likenesses to be used in this story.

This book contains scenes of violence, sexual misconduct, and may have some language not suitable for some readers.

****

Also by Daniel Aegan:

Blood Drive

Lost Women of the Admiral Inn

Kai the Swordsman: The Imprisoned King

Excalibur Nights

Double Zero: An Anthology

The New Council: Blood Drive 2

I’m in Sci-Fi Hell

The Unholy Mother of the Demonic Child

Reign of the Unfortunate

The Adventures of Trash Rat

The King of America: Blood Drive 3

Read more at DanielAegan.com

Follow on Twitter: @Daniel_Aegan

For Tiff, a true villain.

There comes a time in every human’s life when change becomes inevitable. The world is always evolving. What’s true one day may not be true the next. A species that once crawled on its belly to struggle to find food can soar on the wind and hunt given time and evolution. It’s a phenomenon found on many planets, but it doesn’t happen anywhere in the universe the way it does on Earth.

Change happens, and there’s no better example of that happening than the first day at a brand-new job.

Randy Figueroa walked to work on the city streets. Dawn had just begun illuminating the city. He could have taken the subway or a taxi, but he felt like walking. A breeze rushed between the skyscrapers, carrying a chill with it; the last remnants of winter forcing their way through the early spring weather. It didn’t have the teeth to bite, making it feel more like a nip or a nibble, enough to let you know it hadn’t yet died.

Then he saw it: The Vernon Building, home of VNN. Its plaza was right outside, complete with a reflecting pool that would be heated whenever the freezing winter weather reared its head. Randy walked up to it and saw his reflection looking back at him, distributed by the ripples against the water’s surface. He wore a new suit of blue and gray to accentuate the newness of everything. The day commemorated a fresh beginning for him at Vernon Network News in the heart of New Millennium City.

Of course, he had no idea what would come, but that added to the excitement he felt on his skin, through his bones, and down to his core.

The posters on the walls outside The Vernon Building showed their top anchors. Robin Sacks stood with his arms crossed, flashing a bright white smile from his tan skin. His black hair had been styled to perfection for the photo. There wasn’t a strand out of place. Randy lingered for a moment. Robin Sacks was what he aspired to be as a man, but his genetics hadn’t blessed him with the same eternal handsomeness. He may have had a few iotas of charisma, but you needed both looks and charm to make it in the world of televised news. Maybe one could compensate for the lack of charisma or charm by showing off the size of their metaphorical balls.

The next poster featured Mindy Greene. She smiled as well, despite her programs focusing on her in-your-face style of journalism and cold, hard fact-checking of all comers. She wore a fiery red blouse, and she also had her arms folded across her chest like she awaited a retort from her in-your-face statement. Her blonde hair flowed behind her, and it made her look like an angelic demoness with a twinkle in her baby blue eyes. She was the epitome of brains and beauty rolled into one being.

The security guards at the Vernon Building’s front desk checked his identification and called upstairs. It took a few minutes of waiting, but a man in a suit emerged from the elevator. Randy recognized him from his interview, but that entire process had all been a formality. Randy’s hiring had been preordained by a higher power than Jack Gunn from VNN’s Human Resources department.

Good morning, Mr. Gunn, Randy said, extending his hand.

Please, Randy. Call me Jack. There’s no need to be so formal—not when you’ve already got the job.

Randy smiled as Jack squeezed and pumped his hand like he needed to get the last squirt of ketchup out of the bottle.

Welcome to the VNN family, Jack said once they’d broken the ceremonial man-on-man hand-wrestling. I’m so glad you’ve accepted our offer.

Me too. It’s not that Randy wouldn’t have accepted the offer that had been tailormade for him.

Now Jack had fallen back on formalities. He knew well that acceptance had little to do with VNN’s ‘offer’, but Randy decided not to throw it in Jack’s face. It wouldn’t be prudent to do something so rash on his first day as part of the VNN family. Well, not before he’d seen The Vernon Building’s lobby at least. Hell, Randy could’ve fired Jack right there on the spot with the power he’d been granted, and he’d face zero repercussions for it.

Randy wondered if he could buy and sell Jack Gunn’s sorry ass like he’d heard so many high-powered executives say in movies or TV shows, but he would have to find out what that phrase meant first.

You can call me Figs, by the way, Randy said. Everyone does.

Jack smiled, showing his whitened teeth. Alright then, Figs. Follow me upstairs and I’ll show you around the VNN offices. He brought him over to the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. I’ll show you the studios first. It’s the main event of VNN headquarters after all.

The elevator reopened after the short ride, and Jack led Randy down a hall that ended in a huge open area. Five television sets were set up next to one another in a row. They all had a desk and a place for whichever anchor used them. One of them had been set up for a group of people, and Randy recognized it straight away.

That’s where we film Morning Superwatch, Jack explained. It’s one of our more popular shows. It’ll be starting soon if you’d like to come back and see it live.

I’ve seen the show, Randy admitted. Mostly just clips. It would be nice to be a fly on the wall for a taping, though.

Then it’ll happen. No problem.

They like to go over fashion trends and gossip about the superhero community for a few hours a day, right? It’s a little too kitschy if you ask me.

Jack let out a nervous laugh. Please don’t cut it.

Randy smirked. I’ll try not to. I’m a realist, Jack. I know kitsch sells as much as superhero interviews and deep cuts into their personal, untold biographies. It’s why New Millennium News is kicking our collective asses right now.

The fake smile on Jack’s face died.

What am I saying? Randy said, smiling and slapping Jack’s arm. I’ve barely been here an hour, and I’m already the bad guy. I figured it would be at least a week till I made everyone around here hate my guts.

Jack laughed again, and it sounded more nervous than the last fake one he had tried to pass as genuine. Randy knew he came off as much too young to do what he’d been hired to do, but that was part of the challenge. He also knew he wouldn’t win longtime company men like Jack Gunn by joking about what and who may be first on the chopping block.

Can I see Action Alley? Randy asked. I’ve always wanted to see it for myself.

Sure, Jack replied, forcing another smile. Right this way.

The tour continued, and this one brought Randy down row after row of cubicles. Phones rang, people talked in rushed voices, and huge televisions on the walls played a live feed of VNN in the background of it all.

VNN was airing an early morning show. Randy didn’t even know what they called it, and he didn’t know the anchor’s name either. He couldn’t hear the sound, but the scroll along the bottom said that one of New Millennium’s superheroes—one named Father Badass—had taken out a group of thugs who planned on selling some new drug through catholic school cafeterias.

This is the guts of VNN, Jack said. This is where we write, vet, and pump the stories. Our executive offices—including yours—are on the floor above us. It’s much quieter there, but it’s just as important, if not more.

No it’s not, Randy retorted.

Jack turned to look at him. Excuse me?

Do you believe a handful of executives are more important than the people who run this station? That’s asinine to the point of being offensive. Sure, those on the floor above us make a shit-ton more money than the peons here, but they don’t call this Action Alley because they’re sitting around, having punch and pie all damn day.

Jack blinked.

Don’t worry about it, Randy reassured him, forcing another smile that surely made him look like a predator. Look, I’m going to let you get back to work now. I can show myself around and find my office later. Is that OK?

Uh…sure. That’ll be fine.

Thanks for the tour, Jack. I’ll see you around. He turned and left, not looking to see if he’d offended Jack by the quick dismissal. It didn’t matter. Orientation had ended, and Randy decided he wanted to get right to work.

***

Randy returned to the set of Morning Superwatch in time to catch them in the middle of their first hour. He stood behind the cameras, watching with his arms crossed. He had been stopped by one of the producers, but he explained who he was and they allowed him to stay and watch with a bit of trepidation.

What about the news about Father Badass? Arman Seltzer, a handsome young anchor asked the other three who sat around the glass table with him. What a story that was, huh?

Father Badass is the quintessential street-level hero, Jillian Kahlua replied with a toothy grin. She shifted in her seat and looked at Arman as she spoke. As a magic user, he’s quite effective at dealing with these late-night dealings and keeping drugs from making their way to the streets and getting into the hands of our children. Don’t forget he was on the New Millennium Alliance with Captain Millennium, God rest his heroic soul.

Randy rolled his eyes and had to stop himself from groaning at the sentiment. He didn’t want it to wind up on air during his first day on the job. Captain Millennium and the New Millennium Alliance were as corny as anything could possibly be.

Some people are wary of Father Badass as a superhero and one of New Millennium’s protectors, David Handy added. He was the older of the two men on the show and often dropped his opinion to play devil’s advocate. It doesn’t matter that he’s one of the original New Millennium Alliance’s founding members. He’s supposedly a priest who made a deal with the devil for superpowers. What kind of role model is that?

Randy liked David Handy.

We don’t need him to be a role model, Jillian argued. We need him to bust criminals that the police can’t get to.

Since you brought it up, David said, what about the police? Why should we praise superheroes like Father Badass, or any of them, when they’re nothing more than vigilantes taking the laws into their own hands every single night?

Randy smiled and walked away. He had heard enough. They rehashed the same old drivel they argued about every day on the show. Eventually, they’d take a commercial break and start talking about Father Badass’s choice of costume. Not that the priestly vestments with the sleeves ripped off could be taken as a fashion statement. It’s just how the show was formatted.

But everything became subject to change at some point.

Randy returned to Action Alley, where he overheard more whispers and muttering as he approached. It looked like his little dismissal stunt with Jack Gunn had landed, and they all gossiped about the newcomer who’d walked into their lives flexing his muscles.

Can I have your attention? Randy called.

The people in the cubicles stopped muttering and looked up. It reminded Randy of a group of prairie dogs.

Thank you. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m new here. Where can someone get a cup of coffee in this building?

I’ll get it for you! a young man in glasses said, standing. How do you like it?

Great, Randy thought. My first suck-up.

I take it with one cream and no sugar. Thank you.

The young man nodded and trotted off to get the coffee.

Now, Randy continued, How do I get a meeting with the movers and shakers in Action Alley? Email might be a little informal, so just grab whoever thinks they’re important wheels to the VNN team and pick a conference room. Also, someone needs to show me to the nicest conference room on this floor.

I’m sorry, a woman interjected. May I ask who you are that you think you can waltz in here and bark orders like that?

Randy turned toward the source of the voice. She stood there, hands on her hips, watching him with narrowed eyes. If she were a serpent, his body would already be full of her venom since the look she gave him was permeated with it.

Mindy Greene, Randy said with a smile. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I thought I’d have to wait till later to make my introduction.

Which you still haven’t done, Mindy reminded him.

Randy laughed and closed the distance between them. My name is Randy Figueroa. Today’s my first day at VNN.

Randy? Do I have to call you that? It sounds like what a future soccer mom would name her kid.

People call me ‘Figs’.

Mindy scoffed. That’s worse. And you still haven’t told me who you are. All you’ve done is state your name.

Has anyone ever told you how clever you are?

Mindy crossed her arms across her blue blazer, as she narrowed her eyes. The venomous fangs would come out next, and Randy had a fleeting want to see what it would feel like to be eviscerated by a woman who lived and breathed to eviscerate. Some people paid top dollar for that kind of thing in high-end brothels. Perhaps those kinds of places would open for him now that he’d taken his first step toward becoming a New Millennium elitist.

Alright, Randy relented with a short laugh. I’ve taken the role at VNN as Executive Consultant. This company is bleeding both ratings and money, and I’m here to right the ship by any means necessary.

That caused gasps and murmurs from Action Alley, but Mindy stood in defiance and didn’t break her glare. "And if you find you can’t right the ship?" she asked, tilting her chin upward.

Randy shrugged. Then I’ll sink it trying.

Under whose authority?

Randy didn’t have the chance to answer. The one who gave him the authority walked through Action Alley with another of VNN’s top anchors, Robin Sacks, by his side. They had an animated conversation as they made their way toward him.

Good morning, Elliot, Randy said, turning toward him.

Elliot Snipe looked over. He was a robust man, well past the prime of his life. Most of the hair on his head had gone away for good, and what little adorned the sides had become light gray. He wore a brown suit that looked like it needed to be taken out around the gut and posterior areas.

Oh, good morning, Figs, Elliot replied with a beaming smile. I didn’t expect to see you out and about so early in the day. Jack usually uses day one to give the grand tour.

Well, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands. I believe it’s best to dive right into the pool. There’s no point in wasting my time here, right?

Right you are. Elliot turned toward Mindy, who had cocked an eyebrow at the brief exchange I take it you’ve been speaking?

If that’s what you’d call it, Elliot, Mindy replied.

Elliot laughed and nudged Randy’s arm with his elbow. Careful with this one, Figs. I hear she bites.

I’m sure we’ll get along well enough, Randy said.

Mindy huffed and walked away. She evidently didn’t feel the need to put on a show of politeness for the Executive of VNN himself.

She’ll come around, Elliot told Randy with a playful wink. I need to run to a meeting upstairs, but call my secretary when you’re done here. Set up a meeting with me at the end of the day. I want to hear your thoughts on everything.

Will do. Thank you.

Elliot nodded and left Action Alley, heading toward the elevators. Once the doors closed, Robin Sacks approached. He was every bit as handsome as he looked on TV. The full smile wasn’t on his face, but the hints of a coming smirk were there.

You’re a bold guy, Figs, he said, measuring Randy with a lingering gaze. Elliot was just telling me about you. He seems to think you’re our white knight.

The chatter had died down, and Randy noticed everyone who had been around had gone back to work. They pretended to work anyway. It had been a lot louder earlier, and Randy couldn’t help but assume they wanted to hear more.

Here’s your coffee, Mr. Figueroa.

Randy took the black mug from the young man he had sent to run the errand and took a sip. Somewhere between where he stood and where he’d gone to fetch the coffee, he’d discovered Randy’s identity.

Thank you.

The young man nodded and skulked away to his desk.

I’ve called an impromptu meeting, Randy told Robin. It’s a ‘getting to know you’ kind of thing. I’d love it if you could come and enlighten me with your presence.

Robin’s smirk turned into a grin. Sure, Figs. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. But what I really want to know is how you got into bed with a man like Elliot Snipe. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t strike me as his type.

Randy matched Robin’s grin. That’s going to have to stay between Elliot and me for now.

Fair enough. Robin’s smile grew as wide as a storybook predator’s. Let’s do this ‘getting to know you’ thing. I can’t wait.

The ceiling broke, and debris fell into the restaurant. People screamed and fled from the arcs of power that came with it. Not everyone was lucky enough to get away unscathed from the terror that had befallen what should have been a fine dining experience.

Two figures fell as well, locked in combat. They traded punches full of raw power as the pair fought for superiority.

Randy didn’t want to stay and find out who was behind all the power getting tossed around. It wasn’t like he could see through the cloud of smoke and dust that had been kicked up during the fight. Living in New Millennium was bad enough when the heroes and villains clashed, but he’d never been this close to a superpowered battle before. Part of him wished he’d never moved here and got a job as a waiter in a swanky, upscale restaurant with an asinine name like Magnificent Truffle.

So, he ran along with all the others who didn’t want anything to do with the superbeings firing balls of energy at each other. He tripped over an overturned chair, and some woman stepped on his calf to get past him. He grunted in pain and got himself back to his feet, trying not to limp as he headed for the exit.

The crowd of people outside doing their best to gawk without getting hurt or killed dumbfounded Randy. He forced his way through as best he could, but the police had arrived, making matters worse. They got out of their cruisers and corralled people across the street or made them leave outright. Randy lingered, staying with a group of his coworkers and people who had stayed to watch the action unfold. He felt stupid for being there, but he hadn’t been able to clock out. That stray thought made him feel stupider than he already did.

Then, as quickly as the chaos had started, it ended.

A superhero in a red and black costume emerged from the dust carrying the villain over their shoulder, and the people who had stayed in a semicircle cheered and clapped. He turned the villain over to an Anti-Villain Task Force truck and flew into the air. Randy didn’t even know which superhero it was. They probably had a stupid name like the Crimson Comet or the Fiery Snot-Rocket.

Management closed the restaurant afterward. There was no way it could remain open after that. They had supervillain insurance, and business would boom once they completed repairs, seeing as The Magnificent Truffle was now the site of a superhero battle. Every business in New Millennium had to have supervillain insurance. The problem at hand was that it didn’t pay waiters who were not essentially unemployed because the restaurant that employed them would have to be shut down while the damage was being repaired.

That was something, one of the patrons said as the police and the AVTF started shouting at everyone to go home. Nothing good, mind you.

The man was older and heavyset. He had wandered through the crowd and found himself standing next to Randy to make his little commentary on the situation.

I don’t like it much either, Randy remarked, keeping an eye on his boss as he tried to round up his employees to come back inside to help save that which might be salvageable. It’s not like I’m going to be waiting tables again tonight. This superhero stuff is nothing but bullshit.

How so?

I’m sure you’ve seen what the media does to these assholes who call themselves superheroes.

The heavyset man snorted back a hearty laugh. I have. Would you care to elaborate on your point?

Randy felt obliged to give his proverbial two cents. They’re praised like Gods amongst men, and I’m sick of hearing about it. I’m sure around the country they’re all about creating homemade action figures and talking about the exploits of their favorite superheroes in action, but it’s all so stupid. They’re not living here in the shit with the rest of us puny humans. I’ve seen so many people unhoused or injured because of what the so-called heroes have done, and they have the luxury to walk away when it’s all over. Sure, some of them come to the clean-up efforts for a photo op, but they don’t have to live down here on the filthy ground with the action is over. When it’s all said and done, they have their ivory towers and space station bases. They’re no better than super-wealthy elitists and dopey politicians. None of them give a shit about the little guy.

I see.

Randy looked at the man. Sorry. That rant went longer than  would’ve liked.

Don’t be sorry for speaking your mind, lad. What did you say your name was?

I’m not sure I said it at all. I’m Randy, but people call me ‘Figs’.

You don’t know who I am, do you, Figs?

Randy shook his head.

My name’s Elliot Snipe. Do you know the name?

Randy stared. Of course he knew the name. The only problem was that he didn’t know exactly who Elliot Snipe was other than one of the wealthy elitists that wound up in his rant.

That damn ceiling came down before I could place my order, Elliot continued. Would you care to join me and continue our conversation?

Randy looked toward his boss. He screamed at the police to let him and his employees back into the building, but it looked as if he’d lose that battle. It did until he pulled a wad of money out of his pocket for the police, anyway.

I was thinking about quitting anyway.

Elliot smiled and took his cellphone from his pocket. Marvelous. I know a decent place we can go. I’ll call my driver. I just hope he hasn’t fled the area.

***

Elliot Snipe remained true to his word, and a limo picked them up moments after he made the call. The restaurant he picked looked nicer than anything Randy had ever seen. The place where he worked was high-end, but this one was even better and swankier. It wasn’t on street level, either. This one sat on the top floor of a skyscraper overlooking New Millennium City in all its glory. Elliot walked right to the restaurant’s captain, requested a table, and got seated at one right by a large window overlooking just about everywhere.

The waiter left after they ordered their meals and Elliot chose a bottle of wine for the two of them. Randy felt weird wearing his work clothes and having another high-end server waiting on him, but nothing about what had happened that night could be classified as normal.

Have you ever had fine wines before? Elliot asked.

Yeah, Randy replied. At the restaurant sometimes, someone leaves a bottle with a little left inside. We sneak them into the back and take a few swigs if no one is there to see us doing it.

Elliot laughed. Well, tonight you’ll drink it from a glass for a change.

Randy nodded. He couldn’t tell if Elliot was being condescending or not, but he let it go. He felt it was a small price to pay for a free meal and wine to go with it.

Look at that mess down there, Elliot mused, watching the place a few blocks from them at which he had tried to dine less than an hour earlier. That’s a damn shame if I ever saw one. I didn’t even see the superhero involved in it. Did you?

Only for a second.

Elliot sighed. He’s already gone, hiding inside his secret identity, safe and sound from lawsuits and responsibility. It’s sickening seeing it from an up-close perspective. I hope it’s something I don’t have to do again.

No one sees it from that perspective but those people who have lived through it. But no one wants to hear about how we’re treated during these super-skirmishes or whatever. The media and cable TV news always kowtow to the heroes in the end, praising them like living gods. NMN. VNN. They’re all cucking to the superhero agenda.

Elliot laughed.

What? Randy asked.

You really have no idea who I am, do you?

I figured you for a super eccentric billionaire who takes random waiters out to dinner after superhero disasters. Either that or you were going to try to fuck me at some point.

Elliot laughed again, snorting in his jubilation. Wrong on both points. I’m the Television Executive for Vernon Network News. VNN.

You’re… Randy shook his head. He couldn’t believe he had just insulted the head of VNN to his face, and he couldn’t remember how many times he had done it. I had no idea. I didn’t mean the thing about cucking to the superheroes.

Don’t worry about it, Figs. You’re not wrong. Truth be told, our ratings and ad revenue are circling the drain. We can’t compete with New Millennium News. Not with their exclusives and the support from the superhero community. Hell, the biggest superhero of them all named himself Captain Millennium for God’s sake, and he was the leader of the New Millennium alliance. The names line up, the unoriginal bastards!

Elliot leaned closer, watching Randy’s face. What would you do differently if you were in charge?

Randy moved back. Me? I have no idea. I’ve never worked in televised news. Or any news. I never even had a paper route as a kid! I don’t have any advice on how to save your company. What about Jeb Vernon? I thought he owned the network.

Jeb owns the company that houses VNN along with a wide array of other stations and pet projects. I’m directly under him running VNN. He’s not so happy with me as of late. He’s going to get desperate to right the ship soon, and that means I’ll be out on my ass despite being good friends for years.

That’s shitty of him.

Elliot shrugged. There’s friendship, and there’s business. You’ll find that in the best of times they can coexist but not when the chips are down. When that happens, even your best friend starts looking more and more like a scapegoat.

Oh, Randy said despite his misgivings and misunderstanding of the corporate world. Maybe he’d understand if he kept more friends who worked in offices behind the tinted windows of skyscrapers always around him. All he had were acquaintances from work and some relatives he contacted a couple of times a year.

The waiter returned with a bottle of wine. He filled two glasses and left the bottle in an urn of ice.

Tell me, Elliot continued, picking up his glass, sitting back, and swirling the crimson liquid. How long have you been working as a waiter in New Millennium?

Almost ten years.

A decade. Elliot sipped his wine. It seems like a long time now, but someday decades will seem like a short measure of time. It sneaks up on you, Figs. If I get pushed out of VNN now, there’s no future for me. Sure, I’ll get my severance and have a nice retirement, but I like being on top. I love it, actually. There’s nothing more fulfilling than being the biggest dog in the yard.

Randy nodded. He didn’t know how to respond to the confession. Instead, he took a sip of the expensive wine his generous and talkative host had bought for him.

That’s why I’m going to hand the reins over to you while I still can, Figs.

Randy almost choked on the wine.

Elliot laughed. It took you long enough to take a drink. I was waiting for it. It’s a little quirk of mine.

So, it was a joke? Randy asked once he’d finished choking. All that stuff about VNN circling the drain and you wanting me to take your job… None of that is true?

First off, that’s not what I said. Second, it’s true. You won’t be taking my job exactly. I want you to be Executive Consultant and work directly under me. I’m the only one you’ll answer to, except maybe Jeb Vernon or God herself. Of course, no one but you and I will know that I’m not going to question anything you do. I’m giving you my baby and entrusting its future with you.

Randy couldn’t believe it. Every part of him screamed in his mind that it was all some dream. He expected to wake up on the floor of his restaurant and find out he had been hit in the head by a piece of fallen ceiling and none of this ever happened.

Speechless? Elliot asked, breaking the silence.

Why me? Randy asked in return. You met me like an hour ago, and I’ve already told you I don’t know a thing about TV news. I sure as hell don’t know a thing about existing in corporate America.

It’s a risky move, Figs, but I like you. I’ve never done anything so risky in my long career at VNN or any of the ventures I worked on with Jeb before I took it. But there is no risk without its reward, and I can’t think of anything riskier. Think of the treasure we’ll reap if you’re successful, and I’ll be hailed a genius for coming up with it! And if you fail? Well, I was fucked anyway, and you can always go back to waiting tables. No skin off either of our backs.

He’s off his nut, Randy thought. He considered calling an ambulance to see if Elliot was having a stroke or an aneurism; anything that would explain why he’d make such an incredible and insane offer to a relative stranger on a whim.

Still think I’m eccentric? Elliot asked.

Randy smirked. I think we’re way past eccentric now.

Elliot laughed. You’ll be paid handsomely, of course. I’ll make sure you get a signing bonus so you can update your wardrobe and living arrangements. I can’t have my Executive Consultant living like a common waiter. No offense, Figs.

A signing bonus?

Elliot nodded. I can send a text, and a courier can be here before dessert’s served with a briefcase full of cash. You can start in a month.

The waiter returned and set their plates on the table. He asked a couple of generic waiter questions and left, leaving Randy and Elliot to their meals.

This looks so good, Elliot said. He picked up his fork and knife and cut into his steak. I’m famished after all this excitement, too. He popped the first bite into his mouth and chewed. His eyes rolled back, and he let out a content sigh. I think waiting for dinner after a restaurant gets wrecked by superheroes makes it taste so much better. This is almost orgasmic.

Randy couldn’t even fathom cutting into the steaming steak sitting in front of him. His evening felt too surreal for him to comprehend having an appetite.

Let’s say I take this job, he forced himself to say. What would I do for you?

Elliot shrugged and swallowed. Whatever you want! Don’t forget all that stuff you ranted about. That’s the kind of energy I want you to bring to VNN. Be the mouthpiece of a new era. The future is there for the taking, and you only have to reach out and accept it.

Randy thought while Elliot ate his dinner. A catch had to have been hidden in the details. He’d seen enough movies and TV shows to know men like Elliot Snipe always kept an ace up their sleeve till the twist at the end.

Then again, what did he have to lose? As Elliot had said, he could always go back to waiting tables, and moving back to his aunt and uncle’s house had crossed his mind in recent days. Even if things went tits-up in a spectacular fashion, Randy would still be better off than he ever had been before. He found that he already knew how he was going to answer before he had even begun mulling it over.

Alright. I’ll do it, Mr. Snipe.

Elliot nodded. I knew you would. And don’t call me ‘Mr. Snipe’ ever again. We’re colleagues now. Call me Elliot. And eat your dinner. I look like a damn fool sitting here and eating while you sit there gawking at me.

Randy picked up his fork and knife and cut into his steak. He ate the first piece and looked at Elliot again. Is someone really going to show up here with a briefcase full of money?

Elliot laughed. No. That was a joke. It’ll be a check.

Oh. The briefcase thing would’ve been cool as hell.

It