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Flu Culture

Posted on Wed Feb 14th, 2018 @ 12:53am by Category V: Supervillain Frederick Hollywood

Mission: The Villain's Spire
Location: The Spire and New York City
Timeline: The Year of the Apocalypse

In a gym, in the upper levels of the spire currently setup to train hand-to-hand fighters of all sorts, Flu was tirelessly pounding away at a giant-sized red heavy bag. Her hands felt a little raw even through her gloves. Images of a woman erupting in fire and burning her kept coming to mind.

After having been taken down in the Tower, Flu had decided to get in some practice time with firearms and hand-to-hand. She knew Lorde had a freight train of great things for the team to use once they picked up the skills for them. If it hadn’t been for her Lorde Armor, the mutant that attacked her would have easily bested her. This didn't sit well at all.

Then she changed the room to be a shooting-range. Entering one of the slots, she chose an AK-47 that Spatz had been using to train her with. She shot at the target on full auto. “Die, you fucking flaming bitch!” Sweat dripped down her face as she sent round after round into her imagined enemy.

Then just as she finished a clip, a voice came from behind her. “Do you think you failed on that mission, Zaneta?” The living contagion froze, wondering how long The Lord of the Spire had been standing behind her like that.

“I couldn’t stop that fiery woman.” Flu kept hold of some emotions that had been ripping through her this morning.

She felt him step close to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Not everything can be stopped. It is more important that you tried. Also, don’t sell yourself short. You guys slowed those people down far more than you might think, giving us time to complete a few objectives.” He stepped beside her. “That said, I have something far more constructive for you to help me with. I’m thinking it is high time for us to delve into some of this world's pop culture.”


They had arrived in 1973 in New York City. It was the big era of Andy Warhol, Studio 54, and Pink Floyd. They walked to the front door of the high rise that Lorde had purchased in the Twenties. It had been well-kept judging by the outside, and by the advertisements on the outside it was a hodgepodge of office spaces. One of them rang a bell on a button next to a tab reading, “Alley’s Leasing.”

When they walked into the penthouse, many of the decorations had been kept up. Behind the massive mahogany desk sat a woman who looked like she could be no more than twenty-three. Lorde had to check her essence to see if she was somehow the same woman he had met in the past. “Lorde Frederick Hollywood? I guess you knew my mother.”

The enigmatic blonde man bowed to her. “If you mean the famous Miss Alley, then yes I did.” He walked over and sat in the comfy chair across from the woman and put his feet up on the desk. He figured no one would mind as he sort of owned it. “I want all of the expiring leases to be closed out. I want the entire building refashioned into a massive multi-level nightclub, themed after Dante’s Inferno.”

The young Alley pulled out a stack of paperwork. She thumbed through several leases. “Most of the agreements end at about the same time, sir. I think by the end of next month we could start renovations.”


Over a year later, just before Halloween, New York’s newest nightclub opened. Dante’s Inferno took up the entirety of the massive building. All twenty-seven floors had been divided into nine sections, each with its own theme.

The First Circle was Limbo, the entryway to the rest of the club. Like before, it had a bar for the street folk just wanting to step in and peer inside. There was a concierge desk to help with the many needs of the clientele and to help them gain entry to higher levels. Watchers wandered about, checking for anyone that stood out from the crowd. Mutants ranked high on that list, but it also included celebrities, the rich, the powerful, and, of course, the beautiful. Those people would automatically be offered entrance into the higher areas of the club.

The Second Circle was a massive, gothic fetish club. Dancers dressed in the newest and most up to date costumes that depicted angels, demons, and many other fantasies come to life. The waitresses in this area were all either dressed as devils or angels. There was an area for people to bring guests to be tortured or to do the torturing. Lastly, the upper area of the Second Circle was a brothel that also had rooms for rent.

The Third Circle was a bit more tame, but nonetheless as equally opulent. Restaurants of all types touching all the corners of the globe offered an assortment of gourmet delights. These could be payed for like a buffet or single serving. Some of the patrons would dine at more than one a day.

The Fourth Circle was a casino. Somewhat of a speakeasy, as the gambling laws in New York at the time had little wiggle room. Any game of chance was represented. Some of the games seemed far more advanced than might be seen even in the likes of Atlantic City or Las Vegas.

The Fifth Circle was a massive area devoted to martial games, ranging from boxing to paintball. Each day the layout rotated, depending on what the venue called for. Space for two thousand patrons could be erected in hours for the ring viewers.

The Sixth Circle was the first members only area. Much of the area was devoted to information gathering and exchanges of all types, ranging from simple meeting rooms to large computer networks to churn out new information for the members to use.

The Seventh Circle was dedicated to sending out anyone who might be involved in crimes of violence, ranging from enforcement and intimidation to murder. Mostly it was just sitting rooms with a small area for banking.

The Eighth Circle was for Circle members only. Only the most powerful men and women could visit this level. They could enter via the heliport on the roof or from a private elevator. Each member had their own areas.

The Ninth Circle was limited to the leaders of The Inferno. Only a hand picked number of The Circle could enter here. At its center was a throne with the words “Judas” engraved at the top.

Lorde was overall pleased with his creation. Of course, no sooner had he made a tour of the place than one of his men came to him with a message. “Lorde, someone has stopped in to see ya.”

With a look, Fredrick asked, “Who is it?”

The underling answered quickly, “A member of the Camorra family.”

The time traveler laughed. “Jeez. Really? Alrighty, send him in.”

In came a man who was immaculately dressed in a hand made suit and tie. “Lorde, right?”

“Yes, yes, how may I help you?” Lorde had an idea of what the man wanted, but he hoped he was wrong.

“The Camorra family has sent me to congratulate you on the profitability of your current ventures.” The man pulled out a gold plated case and withdrew a black cigarette. After lighting it, he continued on, “That said, they are wondering just what it might take to get in on the ground floor, so ta speak.”

Lorde smiled. “I would welcome them with open arms. Before we continue on, can I ask what moniker you go by?”

The well dressed man nodded. “Hit is the name, for what be obvious reasons.”

Frederick stopped smiling suddenly, and his words were suddenly far more stern than normal. He leaned back in his chair. “I will tell you what. I will make sure to have a face to face with the Camorras myself. That said, I will also make sure they understand trying to influence me in this way is unacceptable.

Lorde held up his hand, extending his index finger and thumb just so. He pointed at the man's heart. He envisioned a line of dark chi forming in the core of the assassin. “Someone in your profession might appreciate this technique. It is known as a long distance Dim Mak.”

Hit felt his heart stop cold. He could feel the life drain from his body quickly. “They will kill you for--,” never finishing what he was going to say before falling to the floor.

Lorde walked over to the lifeless corpse with a glint in his eye. “Oh, my friend, that would only be true if they know you are dead.” He held his hand over the body and imbued it with necromantic energies.

Hit awoke with a gasp. “What the hell did you do to me?”

The madman smiled a toothy grin. “What? Don’t watch many horror movies? You are one of the undead. In this case, what I like to call a JuJu zombie.”


Later that week, there was a massive explosion in the warehouse district, leaving several members of the Camorra crime family dead. As near as the police could tell, someone in the building had an explosive device of unknown origin sewn into their body. This instigated further crackdowns on organized crime in the area.


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