Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent by Sebastian H. Alive Page A

General gave a half-smile then looked up at Agent One.
    "You helped stop an Islamist suicide bomber on a plane full of innocent passengers and in doing so saved the lives of four hundred and thirty four passengers.  It was an amazing feat of heroic bravery and the agency is proud of your actions.  Remind me, what did you do again, Agent Two?"
    "I caught a dog walker letting his animal foul the park."
    "Right…" said the General lapsing into silence.
    "We traced the DNA of the foul to the DNA of the dog in question sir and received a positive match and the offender was cautioned."
    "I'm struggling to draw a comparison, agent.  Was the animal wearing a bomb by any chance?"
    "No sir but it was a rather large turd and a young child could have left their indent in it."
    "Commendable for sure, but not quite the same magnitude is it, Agent Two?"
    "No, sir but the grass is a cleaner place and a walk in the park is a more pleasant experience for it."
    "Then well done, agent.  Just one other thing, I've received some complaints from parents about some kind of tandem free-falling flight with one of our superheroes and the children from BA Flight seven-six-five.  Plus, I got a strongly-worded fax from the British Obesity Society not happy about refusing fat children.  Is there any truth in that?"
    "Yes sir," said Agent One.  "We promised the smaller children as a treat that Captain Aeroacrophobia would fly them around for being so brave on the plane.  It was safe and no previous flying experience was necessary."
    "Your compassion almost brings me to tears Agent One, but still, one hundred feet?  Someone could have gotten hurt."
    "It was more like one thousand feet, sir."
    "Well that's all right then.  Did they enjoy it?"
    "No sir, they all but one shit themselves."
    "Oh," said the General looking disappointed.  "Did the one that didn’t shit them self enjoy it?"
    "No sir, he fainted."
    "Excellent, now back in the field agents and get cleaning up the streets of London."
    "Sir." they said in unison.
     

11.
     
    The no-fly zone at Trafalgar square
     
     
    “Hello son.”
    The youth in the baseball cap kneeling at the base of Nelson's column with the spray canister in his hand turned with a startled look on his face and stared back at the man in the black suit.
    “Who the f**k are you?” he asked with a sneer on his face before shifting his eyes to the oddly dressed man wearing the bird outfit with feathers stuck randomly all over his body and a tailfin that looked like it was fastened with a safety pin.  “And who the f**k is that?”
    “My name is Agent One and I work for S.H.I.T and this is my colleague Birdman.”
    “He looks like a f*****g queer.”
    Agent One looked over his shoulder at the small portly frame of Birdman who stood there scratching his backside while his delightful comb-over ruffled gently in the slight breeze.
    “When you say queer, do you mean as in strange or peculiar?”
    “No, he’s a fat f*****g queer faggot muncher,” spat the youth.  “And he has a f*****g faggoty comb-over.”
    “I…I actually love my comb-over,” sniffed Birdman gently patting his hair with affection.  “I think it looks rather good.”
    “You f**kwit.” snorted the youth.
    “What?  Comb-over’s are making a comeback.” mumbled Birdman defensively.
    “Admitting you love the comb-over is a little embarrassing, Geoffrey.” whispered Agent One behind the back of his hand.
    “Say, are you two anal-grinders here to arrest me?”
    “We’re not with the police.” said Agent One.  “May I just add your choice of language is quite extraordinary, young man.”
    “So you’re not with the f*****g rozzers then? he asked suspiciously.
    “No.”
    “Then f**k off.” said the youth shaking the spray can and turning back to the monument.
    Agent One cleared his throat impatiently as the youth paused with the nozzle of his spray paint hovering over the square granite pedestal.
    “You f*****s still here?” he