Diary of a Goon

Day One

I'm sitting alone once again on assignment, so I thought I would finally start the journal that my therapist suggested I do. She thinks a journal will help with capturing emotions and concerns. I think it's bologna. I don't have emotions or concerns. The Boss thinks she will help with my uncontrollable rage. He would prefer I channel my rage into something productive, like busting kneecaps or holding someone under water for just the right amount of time to get them to talk. I have been known to hold a little too long.

Since the last incident, I have been given a new assignment. I am going to have words with a journalist named Clark Kent, that's responsible for the feds raiding my boss's sanitation business. Information on this guy has been sparse so far. He's an adopted farm kid, works at the daily planet, and lives at 344 Clinton St in Apartment 3D. You would think award winning journalists would have mounds of information available on the internet. This man is different.

My job this time was to bribe him to be quiet about our operations. I was told that if the bribe didn't work, I must find other creative ways to quiet him. I had already tried to bribe him earlier today as he was leaving work. I followed him as he left the daily planet and he turned into an abandoned alley. I called his name and at this point, when a normal person would look worried or concerned that a stranger is calling their name in a alleyway, Clark turned and looked annoyed. I approached and before I could start the normal spiel, I realized how massive this guy is. All of six foot four and pure muscle, this is the first time I have felt intimidated trying to bribe someone.

During my speech, I looked into his eyes and could tell that his mood had changed from annoyed to angry. After I finished, he stood there and stared. He looked me up and down for brief moment. He blinked and said, "no thank you" and began to walk away. Angry that I had just been dismissed like I had, I stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder to pull him back around to me, but he didn't move. He continued to walk through the alley like I had never touched him. I will never forget the moment I grabbed his shoulder. It felt like steel.

I immediately left to get my car and stake out his apartment. I won't be able to intimidate him by force, it seems. I will need to find something to hold over his head or something more drastic. I'm not opposed to going the more drastic route. I have done it before on other assignments. I like to avoid it if possible. The cleanup is a lot.

I have been here for a few hours now. I walked around the building and found all the exits. Luckily, I can park my car so that I can monitor all the exits while also watching his window for activity. An hour ago, I saw him walk by the window and that was the last movement I saw of him. Pretty boring for an investigative journalist, but I'm not here to judge.

The police scanner went off ten minutes ago announcing a robbery a few blocks down. They announced shortly after that it was stopped by Superman. I don't envy the guys that got busted for the robbery. Prison isn't something I'm worried about, but the thought of getting busted by Superman gives me the chills. I was busted by Superman once; I will never forget the fear I felt as I watched Superman fly that day. I did have the same feelings standing in front of Clark today. I guess I'm only afraid of journalists and Superman. What a funny thought.