Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) by Elizabeth Gannon Page A

his
head.  “But we’re all crossing our fingers for you there, Jules.  At least then
you’d finally be able to contribute SOMETHING to the group besides giving
us those great guided tours when we all visit Seaworld. ”
    Julian glared at him.  “Forgive me
if my lordship over the watery depths isn’t as important as YOUR crusade against
a puppet .”  He snorted in dismissal.  “At least, I HAVE someplace
that wants me.  MY people didn’t throw me out , unlike some OTHERS here I
could mention.”  He pointed the trident at him. “You’re an embarrassment .”
    Cynic stood up.  “And you’re doing
a hell of a job running your little territory too; your ‘dad’ would be sooooo
proud.  Why, you’re unmatched in the field of underwater crime.  If they ever DO
get around to building a bank on the ocean floor or an aquatic convenience store,
that fucker is TOAST!  You’re going to be AAAAAAALL over that shit! ”
    Megaris looked up from the table
and leaned over it so that she should address Harlot.  “Fish Man and The One
with the Hideous Grin are arguing, again.  They’re disturbing me, Dark-haired
Girl.  Make them stop .”
    Julian and Cynic sat down so fast
their chairs skidded backwards.  Apparently neither of them wanted to risk
angering Meg.
    Wyatt rolled his eyes.  This place
was so crazy and overly dramatic.  He was getting more and more used to
disregarding the constant barrage of insanity though.  He moved on to the next
file.
    “Okay, let’s hope the next guy is
at least MILDLY sane…”  He glanced down at it.  “Here’s a new one to me.  Code
name: The Chef.  Real name: Dennis Eugene Attenborough?”  He glanced around the
room looking for someone dressed as an evil gourmet.  “Chef?  Is he here?”
    Suddenly a large bi-pedal lizard
sitting next to Poacher screamed at Wyatt; fangs extending.  A large scaly
frill around his neck shot up as his bloodcurdling screech echoed through the
hall.  Wyatt blinked at the monstrosity for a moment and then at the small
Polaroid included in the file which showed the same… thing.
    “Wait.  This… is The Chef?  THIS…
um… whatever the hell it is, calls itself THE CHEF ?”
    Wyatt stared at the reptilian
monster as it chewed on the metal chain attached around its neck.  Guilt Trip
turned to watch it as well.  The creature stopped suddenly and eyed the other man
suspiciously… as if wary that he was going to try to take the chain away from
it.
    Wyatt closed the file.  “He’s got nothing to do with the culinary arts!  He’s some kind of lizard-person!  If you’re not
wearing a chef’s hat and attacking people with a meat clever while screaming at
them like an evil, outrageously French Gordon Ramsey, you have NO business taking the villainous nome de guerre of The Chef.”  He looked
at the sky and prayed for patience.  “Are you people really so clueless that I
have to tell you what your codenames need to be now?  Is that it?”
    The lizard man screeched at him
again, one clawed hand scratching at the table.
    Poacher pointed a finger at Wyatt. 
“I’ve just about had it with the way you’re treating us, you little piss ant. 
One more fucking word, and I’m going to make your skin into a throw run for the
den.  Denny doesn’t have to put up with your shit and neither do…”
    The creature unexpectedly leapt at
Poacher and knocked him from his chair onto the black tile floor.  Its wide
jaws closed around the other man’s face, its head jerking back and forth in an
effort to break its victim’s neck and swallow his skull whole.  Poacher fought
to free himself from the monster’s teeth. 
    …Everyone ignored his struggle for
life.
    Wyatt mentally counted to ten. 
This place was… it was killing him.  These people were morons.  He took a deep
calming breath.  “You know what?  Forget it.  He wants to be The Chef ? 
Fine.  A lizard called Chef.  Whatever.  Moving on…”  He pulled out