Chapter 12: Invasion
Location: Abandoned Meat Storage Warehouse. New City USA.
“All right Trap Master. Time to get one step closer to capturing you.”
I check myself in the mirror. No matter how often I see myself in this disguise – purple-streaked hair, shaved face, hairless body, spray tan, purple contacts, temporary freckles and arm tattoos, and tortoise shell glasses, I can’t get used to it. Hopefully, it won’t be for much longer, but it’s just important that I not be recognized as Sentinel right now. I ran this look through the best recognition programs there are and none of them matched me to Sentinel.
I fire up my laptop. Three minutes to wait. True to his word, Trap Master escaped exactly three weeks after I caught him. The next day, a countdown appeared on his website. Since then, I’ve followed the clues, each coded in flawless Lacution, to a series of traps that tested Meathead physically and mentally. I overcame each one, making sure to struggle enough to keep him interested.
I deciphered the original clue to mean that there would be ten tests and I’ve done eight. I thought about losing early on, but worried that if I allowed myself to fail that he’d walk away. I’m pretty sure I was right and that I need to earn seeing him again. Two more traps and I’ll have his ultimate location. His ultimate trap. And my ultimate surprise – the successful capture of Trap Master.
I am tired of living this alternate life as the rookie hero Meathead. Working out of a former meat storage warehouse instead of my beautiful space station. The Meat Locker. It is a great location for my secret HQ. While Trap Master was in prison, I covertly bought it for next to nothing, getting an immediate close without inspection. I’ve done only basic renovations to make it function as a base of operations without anything a young hero couldn’t afford or have. And so, if Trap Master somehow finds me or it, it’ll feel believable.
The space is sparse and low tech, suiting a rookie hero. Solar panels run everything so no utility bills. Information is posted on a large cork board with pictures, clues, and string connecting the dots. I have a large worktable crudely made from a metal door and bricks that were here on site. A king-sized mattress rests on the floor with messy bedding on top. Cheap street clothes bought at thrift stores hang from meat hooks. There’s a makeshift kitchen, along with a shower, toilet, and sink.
As part of my new look, I have a new Meathead costume and accessories hanging from meat hooks, too. I’ve switched to a dark purple bodysuit over a black thong with detachable solid codpiece. The suit is tailored to lift and separate my ass cheeks even more than Adrian’s suit did. A logo of flexing arms runs across my chest in shiny black patent leather, matching my belt, gloves and boots. Yes, I’m the man Trap Master lusted after, only sexier.
During the three weeks Trap Master was imprisoned and the two weeks since, the new and improved Meathead has been fairly active, successfully breaking up a few crimes, while struggling to do it. I’ve been slightly clumsy and messy, showing a little weakness and naïveté. I know the villain is following my exploits, so it must look good, but I can’t be too good.
Intrepid and Adrian think I’m nuts for going to all this trouble, but I reminded them that it took years for the Young Crusaders to capture Trap Master during which time he stole billions in cash, priceless artifacts that might never be recovered, and tortured dozens in his twisted games. Even though he doesn't kill anyone, he's still a menace to society. Now, thanks to me, he’s suspended his criminal endeavors and is leading me right to him, but only so long as he believes that a rookie hero named Meathead is hunting him down. Alone. Mano-a-mano. If I don’t entice him and keep him interested, he’ll vanish and commit more crimes. This is simply the best way to re-capture him quickly and safely.
They both pushed to help me out, especially Adrian who's been getting a lot of field training lately, but I don't need the help. And I’ve guaranteed them that I’m not going to intentionally give myself up. I really will just find and capture Trap Master. With Intrepid and Bear in my life, I don’t need villains to satisfy my submissive side any longer. If either one of them appear to be helping me, it risks the villain disappearing and going back to stealing.
I pace barefoot around the small meat locker in a $2 string tank top from someone else’s vacation in Fort Lauderdale and bright pink bike shorts, keeping up appearances even when I’m alone. I’ve been careful to not be followed, but while I’m hunting Trap Master, he’s also hunting me. I need to be ready for anything. I check the laptop. Almost time.
BING! I look at the screen, quickly translating the clue. I have the words but not the meaning. I move to my board to begin deciphering it. When I put it up, I notice a fine fishing wire, exactly where I was about to put the clue. It wraps around the back of the cork board. I flip the two-sided board around and step back. It’s full of pictures. Pictures of me at every trap. He has been following me since I started the chase. I knew that, but I didn’t expect them to be here.
The Meat Locker has been breached.
I scan every image. There are images of me in street clothes in my secret identity. I was right to go all in on this. And there is one image of me here, in this very room. From yesterday. I turn and see it for the first time. A fiber optic camera. Damn, how did I miss that? Suddenly, the door to the meat locker closes on its own. SLAM! I run to the door. Locked. The freezing system kicks on and the temperature is quickly dropping.
A voice comes on, “Hello, my beautiful Meathead. It’s been so much fun, running you around town. Watching you work. You’ve been so smart. A delightful opponent. The best. And I love the new suit. It proved to me that you’re as excited about our game as I am. You have my attention. Do I have yours?” Trap Master laughs, “Of course I do.”
I ask, “How did you find me?”
“You did a very good job evading my cameras. And nullifying my tracking devices, but I expected all that. You even realized that I could track every login to my website. Too bad I easily cracked your attempts to hide your location from me. Once I had a list of options, I just knew which visitor was you. Meathead holed up in a meat locker. Obvious, but I love it. You are so wonderful.”
“So, is this it? Is this your ultimate trap? Locking me in my own base?”
“It is getting cold, isn’t it? Just look at those perky nipples.”
I instinctively look down. My pecs are exposed in the string tank top, nipples free and they are already hard from the temperature change. I look back at the camera, making an effort to breathe so he can see foggy breath coming from my mouth. “It’s not going to work, Trap Master. In fact, I’m kind of disappointed.”
The villain sighs, “Please change into Meathead. I won’t peek at your privates. I haven’t yet. I’m saving that for when you’re tied up. But I want to face the hero, not some musclebound surf boy. You have two minutes.”
I don’t waste time asking ‘or what’ if I can’t get ready in time. I strip down then pull on the thong and attach the codpiece. I carefully pull on the tight bodysuit so it doesn’t tear. I pull on the mask, but it rips in two. Unusable. Sabotage! I put on the gloves and boots without incident. I lock my belt, just in time then move back to face the camera as Meathead.
“Well done. You follow instructions well. I like that in my heroes.”
The room is really cold now. Suddenly, the lights go out. Only my laptop provides light in the windowless locker. An electrical surge fries the computer. I’m in darkness. But I’m not. My suit glows. I look at myself in the mirror. The bodysuit is shining in the dark. My gloves, boots, belt, and chest logo aren’t. But the bodysuit has a phosphorescent coating. Every contour of my muscular physique is visible in the tight spandex-like fabric.
When did he manage to do all this?
I hear him, “I know a big strong muscleman like you isn’t afraid of the dark, but doesn’t it feel good to finally shine like a superstar? A gift from trap nine. You look fantastic, by the way.”
“So, this is your plan? I freeze in the dark, glowing like a … glow stick?” I march over to the door, “You’ll forgive me if I have other ideas.” I grab the handle and get a shock. I jump back, rewarding him for his cleverness. I could break free, but I can’t appear too powerful or escape now. We could lose him forever.
“Don't act like you're not playing along. You made a brand-new sexier suit for me. One with no protection against electricity. One with no protection against gas. Just plain old sexy spandex. If that isn't a signal that you want to be captured, I don't know what is, big boy."
Location: Abandoned Meat Storage Warehouse. New City USA.
“All right Trap Master. Time to get one step closer to capturing you.”
I check myself in the mirror. No matter how often I see myself in this disguise – purple-streaked hair, shaved face, hairless body, spray tan, purple contacts, temporary freckles and arm tattoos, and tortoise shell glasses, I can’t get used to it. Hopefully, it won’t be for much longer, but it’s just important that I not be recognized as Sentinel right now. I ran this look through the best recognition programs there are and none of them matched me to Sentinel.
I fire up my laptop. Three minutes to wait. True to his word, Trap Master escaped exactly three weeks after I caught him. The next day, a countdown appeared on his website. Since then, I’ve followed the clues, each coded in flawless Lacution, to a series of traps that tested Meathead physically and mentally. I overcame each one, making sure to struggle enough to keep him interested.
I deciphered the original clue to mean that there would be ten tests and I’ve done eight. I thought about losing early on, but worried that if I allowed myself to fail that he’d walk away. I’m pretty sure I was right and that I need to earn seeing him again. Two more traps and I’ll have his ultimate location. His ultimate trap. And my ultimate surprise – the successful capture of Trap Master.
I am tired of living this alternate life as the rookie hero Meathead. Working out of a former meat storage warehouse instead of my beautiful space station. The Meat Locker. It is a great location for my secret HQ. While Trap Master was in prison, I covertly bought it for next to nothing, getting an immediate close without inspection. I’ve done only basic renovations to make it function as a base of operations without anything a young hero couldn’t afford or have. And so, if Trap Master somehow finds me or it, it’ll feel believable.
The space is sparse and low tech, suiting a rookie hero. Solar panels run everything so no utility bills. Information is posted on a large cork board with pictures, clues, and string connecting the dots. I have a large worktable crudely made from a metal door and bricks that were here on site. A king-sized mattress rests on the floor with messy bedding on top. Cheap street clothes bought at thrift stores hang from meat hooks. There’s a makeshift kitchen, along with a shower, toilet, and sink.
As part of my new look, I have a new Meathead costume and accessories hanging from meat hooks, too. I’ve switched to a dark purple bodysuit over a black thong with detachable solid codpiece. The suit is tailored to lift and separate my ass cheeks even more than Adrian’s suit did. A logo of flexing arms runs across my chest in shiny black patent leather, matching my belt, gloves and boots. Yes, I’m the man Trap Master lusted after, only sexier.
During the three weeks Trap Master was imprisoned and the two weeks since, the new and improved Meathead has been fairly active, successfully breaking up a few crimes, while struggling to do it. I’ve been slightly clumsy and messy, showing a little weakness and naïveté. I know the villain is following my exploits, so it must look good, but I can’t be too good.
Intrepid and Adrian think I’m nuts for going to all this trouble, but I reminded them that it took years for the Young Crusaders to capture Trap Master during which time he stole billions in cash, priceless artifacts that might never be recovered, and tortured dozens in his twisted games. Even though he doesn't kill anyone, he's still a menace to society. Now, thanks to me, he’s suspended his criminal endeavors and is leading me right to him, but only so long as he believes that a rookie hero named Meathead is hunting him down. Alone. Mano-a-mano. If I don’t entice him and keep him interested, he’ll vanish and commit more crimes. This is simply the best way to re-capture him quickly and safely.
They both pushed to help me out, especially Adrian who's been getting a lot of field training lately, but I don't need the help. And I’ve guaranteed them that I’m not going to intentionally give myself up. I really will just find and capture Trap Master. With Intrepid and Bear in my life, I don’t need villains to satisfy my submissive side any longer. If either one of them appear to be helping me, it risks the villain disappearing and going back to stealing.
I pace barefoot around the small meat locker in a $2 string tank top from someone else’s vacation in Fort Lauderdale and bright pink bike shorts, keeping up appearances even when I’m alone. I’ve been careful to not be followed, but while I’m hunting Trap Master, he’s also hunting me. I need to be ready for anything. I check the laptop. Almost time.
BING! I look at the screen, quickly translating the clue. I have the words but not the meaning. I move to my board to begin deciphering it. When I put it up, I notice a fine fishing wire, exactly where I was about to put the clue. It wraps around the back of the cork board. I flip the two-sided board around and step back. It’s full of pictures. Pictures of me at every trap. He has been following me since I started the chase. I knew that, but I didn’t expect them to be here.
The Meat Locker has been breached.
I scan every image. There are images of me in street clothes in my secret identity. I was right to go all in on this. And there is one image of me here, in this very room. From yesterday. I turn and see it for the first time. A fiber optic camera. Damn, how did I miss that? Suddenly, the door to the meat locker closes on its own. SLAM! I run to the door. Locked. The freezing system kicks on and the temperature is quickly dropping.
A voice comes on, “Hello, my beautiful Meathead. It’s been so much fun, running you around town. Watching you work. You’ve been so smart. A delightful opponent. The best. And I love the new suit. It proved to me that you’re as excited about our game as I am. You have my attention. Do I have yours?” Trap Master laughs, “Of course I do.”
I ask, “How did you find me?”
“You did a very good job evading my cameras. And nullifying my tracking devices, but I expected all that. You even realized that I could track every login to my website. Too bad I easily cracked your attempts to hide your location from me. Once I had a list of options, I just knew which visitor was you. Meathead holed up in a meat locker. Obvious, but I love it. You are so wonderful.”
“So, is this it? Is this your ultimate trap? Locking me in my own base?”
“It is getting cold, isn’t it? Just look at those perky nipples.”
I instinctively look down. My pecs are exposed in the string tank top, nipples free and they are already hard from the temperature change. I look back at the camera, making an effort to breathe so he can see foggy breath coming from my mouth. “It’s not going to work, Trap Master. In fact, I’m kind of disappointed.”
The villain sighs, “Please change into Meathead. I won’t peek at your privates. I haven’t yet. I’m saving that for when you’re tied up. But I want to face the hero, not some musclebound surf boy. You have two minutes.”
I don’t waste time asking ‘or what’ if I can’t get ready in time. I strip down then pull on the thong and attach the codpiece. I carefully pull on the tight bodysuit so it doesn’t tear. I pull on the mask, but it rips in two. Unusable. Sabotage! I put on the gloves and boots without incident. I lock my belt, just in time then move back to face the camera as Meathead.
“Well done. You follow instructions well. I like that in my heroes.”
The room is really cold now. Suddenly, the lights go out. Only my laptop provides light in the windowless locker. An electrical surge fries the computer. I’m in darkness. But I’m not. My suit glows. I look at myself in the mirror. The bodysuit is shining in the dark. My gloves, boots, belt, and chest logo aren’t. But the bodysuit has a phosphorescent coating. Every contour of my muscular physique is visible in the tight spandex-like fabric.
When did he manage to do all this?
I hear him, “I know a big strong muscleman like you isn’t afraid of the dark, but doesn’t it feel good to finally shine like a superstar? A gift from trap nine. You look fantastic, by the way.”
“So, this is your plan? I freeze in the dark, glowing like a … glow stick?” I march over to the door, “You’ll forgive me if I have other ideas.” I grab the handle and get a shock. I jump back, rewarding him for his cleverness. I could break free, but I can’t appear too powerful or escape now. We could lose him forever.
“Don't act like you're not playing along. You made a brand-new sexier suit for me. One with no protection against electricity. One with no protection against gas. Just plain old sexy spandex. If that isn't a signal that you want to be captured, I don't know what is, big boy."
I just growl, unable to admit the truth that I don't need a suit for all that. I hate that I have to be so weak. But I've come too far to risk scaring him away.
The villain continues, "Just admit it. You made that suit just for our game."
I stutter to sell the cold. “S-s-something like that.” Even though Sentinel has survived in the deepest parts of space, Meathead has not. I rub my arms. As I cross them, it squeezes my pecs and my erect nipples are obvious in my glowing spandex. I hear hissing, “What fresh hell is this?”
“Oh, just a little gas. The dark to distract you. The cold to slow you. The electricity to hold you. And the gas to make you a little easier to handle. One trap isn't enough for my Meathead. Everything has a purpose.”
I reply, “I should thank you.”
“For what?”
“For teaching me to add multiple escape points.” I act like I’m holding my breath as I flip over the mattress. The trapdoor is welded shut. The villain laughs. I hover and try a ceiling panel. Nope. I try two more exits and they’re blocked, too. Trap Master really is a genius.
Trap Master taunts me, “You are a clever muscleboy, but are you clever enough?” I head to the shower. I pull off the drain cover and reach inside. I grab a handle, lift and twist. The whole metal shower floor lifts off. No normal person could move it, but I toss it aside. The exit under it opens. I jump down into the basement. I land softly. I shake it off as I look up. The gas stops.
Okay, nine traps down. But now that I’m free, I can’t imagine how he tops this one, though. Maybe I made a mistake or counted wrong. Maybe I should have let him succeed today. Damn. My instincts kicked in and … have I screwed up? I hope not. If I’ve done all this only to lose him now …
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! I look over to see a hologram of the Trap Master standing across the room, applauding me. The lean villain is shirtless under his open black lab coat and surprisingly ripped. He’s wearing black tights, gloves, and sneakers. A little more menacing in all black. Still adorkably cute. He adjusts his glasses, “Congratulations. You’re the first hero to escape one of my traps today.”
I stutter to sell the cold. “S-s-something like that.” Even though Sentinel has survived in the deepest parts of space, Meathead has not. I rub my arms. As I cross them, it squeezes my pecs and my erect nipples are obvious in my glowing spandex. I hear hissing, “What fresh hell is this?”
“Oh, just a little gas. The dark to distract you. The cold to slow you. The electricity to hold you. And the gas to make you a little easier to handle. One trap isn't enough for my Meathead. Everything has a purpose.”
I reply, “I should thank you.”
“For what?”
“For teaching me to add multiple escape points.” I act like I’m holding my breath as I flip over the mattress. The trapdoor is welded shut. The villain laughs. I hover and try a ceiling panel. Nope. I try two more exits and they’re blocked, too. Trap Master really is a genius.
Trap Master taunts me, “You are a clever muscleboy, but are you clever enough?” I head to the shower. I pull off the drain cover and reach inside. I grab a handle, lift and twist. The whole metal shower floor lifts off. No normal person could move it, but I toss it aside. The exit under it opens. I jump down into the basement. I land softly. I shake it off as I look up. The gas stops.
Okay, nine traps down. But now that I’m free, I can’t imagine how he tops this one, though. Maybe I made a mistake or counted wrong. Maybe I should have let him succeed today. Damn. My instincts kicked in and … have I screwed up? I hope not. If I’ve done all this only to lose him now …
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! I look over to see a hologram of the Trap Master standing across the room, applauding me. The lean villain is shirtless under his open black lab coat and surprisingly ripped. He’s wearing black tights, gloves, and sneakers. A little more menacing in all black. Still adorkably cute. He adjusts his glasses, “Congratulations. You’re the first hero to escape one of my traps today.”
When I get to the loading dock, there’s the villain for real. It worked! I got him! He’s got a dozen henchmen with energy rifles aimed at me. Like Trap Master, they’re in black, a change from their previous white outfits. Each of them is in black tights, with short black gloves, black combat boots, and black face masks. They share the names of the guys from last time, but they’re new guys.
I guess his uncanny ability to escape jail doesn’t include freeing henchmen.
No big deal. I just have to decide how aggressive to be. I don’t really want to out myself as Sentinel, as this Meathead identity could come in handy in the future. And there’s no guarantee that I won’t see Trap Master again. I walk calmly to the center of the room. Staring at the villain in the eyes, I point dramatically, “That was pretty good, but this final trap doesn’t exactly live up to your reputation. A bunch of dudes with stun guns?”
Trap Master smirks, “Silly Meathead. This isn’t the ultimate trap.” He points and I see a truck to my left, parked in one of the bays. “Get in back and we’ll take you to the ultimate trap.”
I’m confused. “What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I get that you expected me to be knocked out right now, but I’m not just giving up.” I stand with my hands on my hips and confidently command, “Put the weapons on the floor. Get on your knees. No one needs to get hurt.” I growl, “As for you, Trap Master, you’re going back to prison. Today.”
In response, a dozen beams fire at me. I’m ready. They all fire at the same point where I am, making it easy to jump up and stay aloft to avoid them. I fly to the ceiling, tearing off a metal panel. They fire, but it works perfectly as a shield. As I close in, the new “Rack”, a short, muscular henchman, drops his weapon and cowardly dives to the floor, surrendering. Three more follow his lead.
The other eight fan out. I hide behind a wide concrete column, warning, “You damage these support posts and this whole place will come down.” The guns stop firing and I hear confusion. I use it to circle around, flying feet first into a row of four henchmen, toppling them like bowling pins. The other four resume firing at me, but my makeshift shield blocks every shot.
Trap Master is standing to the side, just watching. I decide to go right to the source. When he sees me coming, the villain backs up. The henchmen stop firing when I’m too close for it to be safe. I fly overhead and land behind him, blocking all shots. Trap Master turns to face me, smug and unafraid. I toss my shield aside because he’s a much better one.
“Hello again, Trap Master. I’m impressed. You found my hideout. You trapped me. But I told you I wouldn’t go easily. This game is over. There are no more traps to spring. No more escape routes. Let’s keep this peaceful. Please put your hands behind your back.”
Trap Master smiles, “Still so polite. A little arrogant but on you, it works. A man as muscular, powerful, and handsome as you can pull off charming arrogance.” He studies my face, “Maskless suits you, too. So gorgeous with your moppy hair, winning smile, and square jaw.”
“Thank you. You’re looking cute and fit, as well.”
The lean villain brushes his hair off his glasses, “How sweet of you to notice.”
“Now, can we please get on with this? Hands behind your back. I’ll use cuffs and you can stare at my butt, just like last time.”
“Oh yes, we’ll get going. Just not where you expect. See, I’ve been learning as we play. Each clue was accompanied by a small test for a reason. I suspected that forced physical capture might not work in this case, but I had to find out. This is my first time playing with someone as powerful as you, so please excuse some of the crudeness of the attempts.”
“Of course. I thought your tests were wildly inventive.”
“You’re just the sweetest thing, which is why I’ll excuse your lack of faith in me.”
I furrow my brow, “What does that mean?”
“Silly boy. You were wrong before, I found the shower escape hatch. I left it uninhibited on purpose. While I would have accepted your unconscious body, I expected this moment. This confrontation. Here’s a lesson for you. There’s always one more trap. Even if you’re not the one to fall into it. Prepare to thank me. I took out fake Meathead. A disappointment. He isn’t up to your standards at all.”
“What does that mean? Fake Meathead?”
“You know, Intrepid’s other boy toy. Mini-you.” I hope he’s not saying what I think he’s saying. “When physical and mental traps don’t work out, there are always emotional ones. Welcome to trap ten. Saving the innocent through self-sacrifice.”
Trap Master points at the wall behind me. A projector lights up. I’m watching my son. He’s chained up. Hanging from a hook. His uniform is torn in front across his body, exposing his sculpted chest, chiseled abs, and the front of his under-thong. I know his body so well that I know it’s truly him. I see his boots and gloves are gone and his belts are hanging beside him. He’s wildly fighting against the heavy chains with no success.
I step forward, “How?”
“Seems like I wasn’t the only one watching you.”
“What?”
“Intrepid’s other sidekick came snooping around this place a few times. Trying get into our game. Uninvited, of course. The nerve, am I right? It gave me a chance to test out my traps in your lair. He’s not as good as you. Of course, I didn’t warn him first. The electric shock knocked him right on his ass. And into my hands. The gas finished the job. Frankly, it was all too easy.”
I growl, “You better not hurt him.”
Trap Master ignores me. He points, “Just look at that sexy beefcake fighting. He might hurt himself.” He pauses, “Pained young muscle struggling. Now, that’s why torture devices were made. Stunning. It’s almost hypnotic, isn’t it?”
“I’m warning you. End this now.”
The villain ignores me again, “And there are so many ways to hurt people that aren’t physical. Captivity can be very stressful. I’m confident that you’re not willing to let another hero suffer, even if he’s a rival for Intrepid’s attention. Now, the only way to get to him is in that van. Even my henchmen don’t know where he is. I’ll tell them once you’re secured.”
I need time to strategize. Maybe I could fight them off but how would I find Adrian? Getting information out of Trap Master doesn’t sound plausible. I feel like a fool for romanticizing this villain and his ‘torture fetish’. It sounded fun to me because I can’t be hurt, but he’s a monster. I wrote the check and now, my son is paying the price. Playing along is my only option.
Oh, Adrian, why did you have to follow your father? No, this is my fault, not his. I set this example and now my son is in danger. Because of me.
Suddenly, a dozen energy beams blast me from behind. I make a split-second decision. I arch back and thrust my hips forward, crying out in pain. I stumble forward towards Trap Master. He stands firm. I drop to my knees, weak in front of him. I reach out and touch his leg. I try to climb his lean body, but show weakness that overtakes me as I’m repeatedly hit by single stun rays.
When the blasters stop, the villain says, “Night, night, my handsome Meathead.” He gasses me right in the face. To save my son, I fall forward, lying unmoving at his feet.
“Yes, maskless is so much better.” Trap Master orders, “Load him up, boys. It’s playtime.”
Up next … Chapter 13: Manipulation - Meathead helpless? (1/25/2023)
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