Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Pt 1

1. Plot Points and Feathers

The soft voice of the computer came from the hidden speakers: “Target acquired. Attempting to lock.” Thunderfunk waited, eagerly anticipating the destruction of his mortal foe. Finally he would be free. One feathered finger hovered over a lone red button, simply labelled: Destrooy. Once he was done here, he would really need to re-label this particular button. And maybe he could test the one that said Armneod. He hadn’t quite been able to figure out what that button was for. Hopefully it involved massive amounts of explosives, but it was hard to say.
He looked up at the massive screen hanging above him. A set of crosshairs was following a figure that was dashing in a crazy zig-zagging pattern across an expanse of grass. A beeping tone was sounding faster and faster, coming close to the steady tone of a missile lock. Anticipation almost made him shake with glee. It also made him jump out of his seat, feathers flying everywhere, when a finger tapped him on the shoulder.
“Thunder,” said Straw Daq, a bemused expression on his face. “You have a guest.” He backed up a step and walked down the stairs of the raised platform on which the computer station was resting. “I’m working on my plane over in the hangar if you need me,” he called over his shoulder.
“Target lost,” announced the computer softly. Thunderfunk sighed. He would get the vile villain one of these days. For now, however, it was time to entertain. As he walked through his war room (as he liked to call it), he wondered who was visiting him. Hopefully it was his accountant with news about possible tax breaks, or money laundering schemes. Either one would be all right. He passed through a hallway into his living room and stopped dead. “How did you get in here?” he demanded gruffly. Somehow his security had been lax yet again, allowing this fiend into his house.
“That dear boy of yours let me in,” replied Mrs. Henderson. In her hand was a plate covered in cookies and wrapped with saran wrap. “I baked these for you.” She smiled up at him as he stepped forward and reluctantly accepted the cookies from her hand.
“Thank you,” he replied, his words short and clipped. “Now if you’ll excuse-” He watched as she started going around the room, straightening up cushions and fluffing pillows.
“Tsk tsk. You need to tidy up around here.” She sat herself down on the edge of his sofa and looked up at him primly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your son. That ridiculous costume he always wears, like an old time pilot. And always so filthy, covered in head to toe with grease. Why the other day…”
Thunderfunk stopped listening as Mrs. Henderson droned on. For some reason this woman had decided to make his life miserable day after day, always finding excuses to come and harass him. And somehow she had come to the conclusion that Straw Daq was his son, not his pilot. He had tried everything to get her to stay away, but she continued to return. Recently he had hired a security guard, an ex-Marine who had been tortured in two separate countries, to watch the front gate of his mansion whose sole purpose was to stop her from entering the premises. After being lectured for two hours on the importance of being respectful to his elders and the importance of treating a guest properly he had finally sent her inside along with a hastily scrawled resignation letter. Despite himself, Thunderfunk had been slightly impressed with that feat.
A few moments of silence passed before Thunder realised that she had stopped talking and was awaiting a response. “Mrs. Henderson,” he replied with a sigh, “let me start by saying, once again, that Straw Daq is still not, nor has he ever been, my son. And furthermore…” he continued, pointing a feathered finger in her direction, placing the plate of cookies on the coffee table. Before he could complete his thought he was interrupted by a loud alarm. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Please see yourself out.” With that he turned to leave, only to stop short when he remembered the cookies. Quickly he scooped up the plate and ran to the hall. He ground to a halt and stuck his head back into the living room. “You’re infernal cat found its way onto my grounds again, Mrs. Henderson. Next time I will destroy him with my laser.” With that he was gone.
Mrs. Henderson shook her head. “That man,” she muttered to herself. “So handsome, but so scatterbrained.” With that she collected her hat and coat and walked out of the door, calling for her cat.