“He’s hard.” a deep voice rang out over the intercom. “Ladies, put your hands together for Officer Mike Nasty!”

 

Roaring cheers and applause filled the room as Mike slid down the stage. The usual crowd, plus a few new faces, also usual. Mike gave the women the show of their lives, pocketing thousands by the end of the night. He left the building confidently, knowing his performances only ever got better. In the parking lot, he smirked at the sight of his bike. A magnificent, police issued motorcycle gleamed in the moonlight.

“Let’s ride, Sally.” he exclaimed as he patted the back of its body.

The following morning, Mike awoke just before his alarm and got to the precinct early. Cops greeted him as he entered strutting, knowing he was the man.

“Get in here, Officer Turner.” commanded the chief. Mike was quick to enter, as always.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I need you at a crime scene, they could use another set of eyes.”

“On it, chief.” Mike felt useful, important. He hopped on Sally and drove to the scene immediately.

Mike entered the tape outside a suburban home to see a family torn to shreds. A wall of their home was ripped off and he saw scraps of flesh everywhere. Blood covered the walls and one of the detectives told him that traces of the two missing children’s bodies were found in a nearby abandoned lake.

 

This was not a typical scene for Mike. He was the man who leapt from car to car in police chases. He chased bad guys in a wingsuit. He entertained women for money with his body. This was a horror he never imagined. He wondered why he was sent to this case, as it was well outside of his purview.

“Sally, come get me.” Mike demanded, standing at the missing wall. Sally was a bike, so it waited on the street while a few confused officers glanced at Mike as if he was nuts. He hopped on and went straight to his club. Though it was daytime, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to get the drink he so needed.

“Whiskey, neat, make it a triple.”

“You got it, Officer. On the house.”

“Thanks Brewsky.” Mike replied. The bartender’s name was not Brewsky, and they had worked in the same club for over 10 years. 

By nighttime, Mike was mathematically drunk. Thirty triples deep, he couldn’t count how many fingers he had on one hand. Brewsky regretted saying ‘on the house’.

Mike slumped down, still manly, but much less so. A voice over the loudspeaker caused him to posture up. “Please welcome, Officer Mike Nasty!”

Again thunderous applause. Mike stood from his stool and kicked it over, the ladies in the crowd smiled and laughed. Then he fell on the edge of the stage and dragged his body up. They were less impressed by that. One of the women yelled, “Do the slide!!”

Mike went backstage and gathered himself before putting all his energy into the slide. He launched forward and lost control. Directly into the faces of his audience Mike flew. Then he stood up and demanded tips.

“You gotta go Mike, you’re a mess.” Brewsky warned.

Mike nodded and stumbled out of the club.

“Sally?” he looked around, waiting for his motorcycle to appear. “Sally!?”

People on the streets avoided Mike as he shouted for his missing bike, though he walked by it many times while searching. His mind was clouded with the images of the poor family at the crime scene. He couldn’t believe anything could be so evil.

Finally, Mike located Sally and drove to the precinct. It was nearly morning, and the chief was already in. 

“Mike!” the chief yelled as she watched Mike stumble in. “You can’t be at work like this. And you never reported back yesterday. I’m sorry Mike, you’re done. Hand in your gun, your badge and your key.”

“You can take my gun and my badge, but my Sally… that’s her choice to make.”

“Whatever, keep the bike.” the chief just wanted him out.

Mike rode Sally for days after his double dismissal. He drove on mountain and desert roads outside Big City until the nightmares came to a climax. He went to every thrift store and electronics dealer and picked up any police scanner he could find. When he got home, Mike plugged them all into one outlet, and was shocked violently. All the scanners stopped working, and he was blasted across the room.

 

When Mike awoke, he could hear all the scanners still. He checked each one of them. They were busted. The scanning was taking place inside his own head. The electrocution augmented his brain, allowing him to tune into police affairs.

To the precinct Mike went. He looked at the chief, and unsure of what to say, he squinted at her for a few moments, wondering how to explain himself. As if his thoughts were communicated to her telepathically, she reinstated him, getting up from her desk to proudly give him his badge.

“You’re one hell of a cop, Turner.” she said enthusiastically.

Mike squinted at other cops too and it seemed he could make any of them do his bidding. He tested this on the mailman, squinting at him for minutes, but the guy just asked one of the other officers to please help him. Enough messing around, Mike thought. 

Mike hopped on Sally and followed the first report he heard. Though tortured by the aftermath of those heinous acts, he would make certain to thwart the advances of evil whenever possible. Officer Mike Nasty was not just back on the force, he was the force. He realized he left his gun with the chief, but luckily, he was carrying a few extra pistols.

“We go fight Beemon now?”

“Agh, not just yet big guy. Dracula’s out there. I got a sense about it.” Tombs reminded Tumbo about the target of their current mission. Then he turned to Dracula’s Dog as they walked down a dirt road, “You’d like that, huh?”

Dracula’s Dog grumbled softly, floating with one of Tumbo’s drumsticks held in his mouth proudly. He was frustrated at their progress. Months had gone by and several countries explored where Tombs had leads on the vampire king. Dracula’s Dog knew he couldn’t find Dracula alone, yet still felt held back by his companions who were bound to the ground. He then wondered whether that was even the case. 

“WOOF!” Dracula’s Dog handed Tumbo his drumstick, walked ahead and turned around to face T & T. “WOOF WOOF WOOF.”

“Chatty.” Tombs laughed dryly.

“What you want?” Tumbo asked, being the primary target of the barking.

Dracula’s Dog flew up and down quickly, then landed and walked slowly to demonstrate how sluggish their pace was as a unit. He flew so far in a few seconds that T & T couldn’t see him past the horizon. Then he returned in the next few seconds with blood on his fangs.

“I see.” Tombs translated for Tumbo. “He thinks we’re slow… and that you’re clumsy.”

“Clumsy!?” Tumbo readied a drumstick at his belly.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Tombs put on a sincere face and continued to jest. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“Ergh.” Tumbo grunted and calmed down, realizing Tombs was kidding.

Dracula’s Dog kept barking, urging the two to figure out quicker transportation.

“Next stop is Big City. Good shot we find him there. Let’s do this Tumbo…” Tombs approached Tumbo and waved his mace. His body became a black dust that flew into the giant’s mouth and his eyes opened wide and flooded with black.

Tumbo opened his mouth and a screaming, screeching disembodied Tombs shouted from it. “Point your belly at the ground, big guy.”

Even Dracula’s Dog was a little scared by the voice. He wondered if Tombs could have given instructions beforehand to avoid it. Tumbo positioned his body so that his drum faced downwards.

Again, Tombs’ voice emerged in the most unsettling way possible. “Turn just a smidge left, and have at it.”

Tumbo did so, and the blast from his drum shot him so far he couldn’t see the ground anymore. He passed through clouds and looked straight into the upper atmosphere. As he began to descend, he saw the ocean beneath him, and land nowhere around. Dracula’s Dog caught up with ease and followed behind, but had to dodge a shockwave as Tumbo struck the drum once more.

After a few beats of the drum, Big City came into view. The famous heights of the Cloud Corridor were at Tumbo’s level as he passed by, heading into the suburbs on Tombs’ order. A tap of the drum allowed for a soft landing outside a middle class neighborhood. Dracula’s Dog landed beside and Tombs reformed outside of Tumbo’s body calmly.

“Never again.” demanded Tumbo.

“You think I wanna be inside you?” Tombs said, then pointed at Dracula’s Dog, smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Not my fault our friend here’s a freak.”

Dracula’s Dog had a sense that something was nearby. He was confident it was his master, his tail began to wag excitedly.

“Yeah, I feel it too. Relax a beat, this don’t feel right.” Tomb’s said, examining the area as they strolled.

On their journey, towns and suburbs usually would react to the sight of the trio. Tumbo was the main source of attention. Typically, people would grab their children and run inside, locking their doors and covering their windows, peeking through the peephole or uncovered sections of the windows where they felt they wouldn’t be seen.

In this neighborhood, people weren’t just not reacting negatively. They weren’t reacting at all. Everyone around was just staring at the wanderers. Parents and children stood as if they were playing outside, but they acted as if they weren’t even alive.

Then, Dracula’s Dog noticed something. On each person’s neck were two puncture wounds… bite marks. He knew with absolute certainty then that they were in the right place.

People began to walk towards the trio as they approached the last house on the street. It was just like all the others, though they knew it belonged to the one they sought. Dracula’s Dog flew between two neighbors that were closing in, leaving Tombs and Tumbo to fend for themselves as the carnage began.