The Last Hero

August 11th, 1980

August 11th, 1980When the door opened, two men dressed in black flak jackets and fatigues marched inside. M-16 assault rifles hung across their shoulders and belts filled with ammo clips showed they meant business. Their faces, obscured by tinted sunglasses, remained expressionless. Between the soldiers stood a stocky man with receding black hair and matching mutton chops. Clutching a black, leather-bound suitcase, he slid into one of the oversized leather seats parked in front of the desk. The guards hung back, flanking the doorway.

The man laid the briefcase gingerly on his lap and fidgeted with his silver cufflinks. He studied the armed men from the corner of his eye while shuffling uncomfortably in the chair.

“My associates informed me the police department had been disbanded. Even as I was about to board the plane, they remained steadfast in their opposition to this meeting for safety reasons.” He flicked a thumb over his shoulder. “Perhaps my associates were incorrect. If there are no police, what would you call those two?”

The man seated behind the desk slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose and looked up. “They are my insurance policy, Mr. Simmonelli, and I assure you your associates' fears are not entirely misplaced. Safety is my primary concern since Crystal City has not had a police force in quite some time.”

“Mercenaries?” Brady Simmonelli asked.

Mayor Randall Cogsburn shrugged. “Call them whatever you want. I assume, based on your expression, you disapprove of the protection provided to City Hall?” The mayor waved his hand in a shooing motion to the guards and they stepped outside. “Perhaps your associates didn't tell you the history why there are no police here?”

Brady Simmonelli folded his hands on top of the briefcase. “I'm a businessman, Mayor. Do not presume I would not do the due diligence required before attempting to undertake this endeavor. I'm well aware of this city's history, otherwise we wouldn't even be having this conversation.”

Brady placed the briefcase on the desk, fumbled with the combo lock and popped it open. He retrieved a large manila envelope and placed it next to the briefcase. On the cover of the envelope was an emblem of a roaring head of a lion pointed skyward. He tapped the envelope with his index finger.

“Inside this folder are the costs and schematics for the factory as well as a detailed set of work instructions.” He turned the envelope around and slid it toward the mayor. “You will see the first page contains a non-disclosure agreement and, as soon as that is signed, we can get down to business.”

The mayor raised an eyebrow but did not move. “Do you really believe your idea will work for this city?”

Brady's face split into a wide grin. “I conceived my idea specifically for this city.” He petted the envelope like a puppy. “Believe me, Mayor, when I say the details have been gone over a thousand times by myself and my associates. I guarantee an eighty percent drop in crime within the first four years of service or I will pay back every nickel this city invests in the operation.”

The mayor opened the envelope and removed the packet of paperwork. He scanned the front page, tapping every word with the tip of his finger. As he read each word in the proposal, his grin widened like a kid who had just won a free shopping spree in a candy store. Once finished he grabbed a pen from a nearby jar and signed the bottom of the page.

“My God!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “This is ingenious. You never told me the level of detail contained within the concept model. If you explained this to me over the phone, I would have given you a verbal approval immediately.”

Brady chuckled. “Sorry, Mayor, I don't work on verbal approvals.

The mayor stood and extended his hand across the desk. “Brady, you have a deal! When can you start breaking ground?”

Brady matched the mayor's smile, stood and accepted the handshake. “I can have my people begin the preliminaries tomorrow, if you'd like.”

The Hero Factory had been born.