Warning! The following may contain bad spelling, grammar, punctuation, cardboard characters, cheesy plots, offensive NSFW material, and / or puns. Reader discretion is advised.
V.E. Gully, president of the Gully Drink Company, makers of Zooper Energy Drink, sat in his office, contemplating ways to make money off this latest development. The door to his office opens and in walks a mysterious figure. His assistant ran in behind the figure. “I’m sorry Mister Gully, she just walked in. I’ll call Security.”
“No need, Miss Merriweather. That will be all, thank you.”
Miss Merriweather gives a last suspicious look at the person who has just barged into her boss’s office and exits.
“So,” the figure says with a slight sibilant sound, “you’ve seen what the effects of too much of the Zooper formula will do to a person. To be completely honest, we were unsure what the outcome would be ourselves.”
“You mean you knew about this possibility when you gave me the formula?”
The figure moves across the office and stands at the window, basking in the sunlight streaming in.
“We knew something like this might happen. But what are you worried about? We gave you what you wanted. Your drink is selling well and you are making quite a profit.”
“I didn’t ask you for this. I just wanted a drink that would be mildly addictive so people would keep buying it.”
“And we gave you that, didn’t we? Just because the formula has a few side effects there is no reason you can’t keep going.”
“Side effects! If it gets out that our drink is killing people we’ll be ruined!”
“Then I suggest you make sure that the information doesn’t get out then.”
“How do I do that? I can’t keep people from drinking the stuff.”
“No, but you can minimize the collateral damage. Your company has more than enough money to ‘grease some palms’ I think you say.”
Gully looked taken aback. Parting with money after he already had it was an unsettling idea. “Well yes, but I can’t buy off everyone.”
“Then you’ll just have to find alternate means of dealing with the problem.”
“You mean get a bit more physical?”
“I mean do whatever you have to do to keep this under control. If this information gets out it could affect our plans, and then I might need to find an alternative method of dealing with you.”
“Don’t you threaten me.”
“Or you’ll do what? So far, no one knows about my ties to you, and even if they do I guarantee we have the means and the will to do whatever it takes to clean up the mess. Now to start off, you might want to do something about these two.” The figure pulls out a photo and lays it on Gully’s desk. The photo shows Tom Clary and Freddie Han are walking across a street.
“Who are these two?”
“They are called The Good Guys. You can find them in the phonebook.”