Really it's quantity vs. quality

Ah, sweet Earth. I am back again at the 'ol homeworld and it looks as ready to be dominated as ever. From orbit I can observe the gentle contours of the continents, ready to be formed to my will. Below me, unsuspecting, lay my enemies. Believing me dead, apparently. That is for the best, now I have the element of surprise.

Well, I guess except for Green Hunter. And, I suppose the rest of the Earth's Elite, if he told them. Of course he told them. If there's one thing I know about my former intern it's that he thinks whatever happens in his life is of critical importance to all of those with earshot. Gah, if I had to hear one more time about his kegger at the Delta house... So you made out with two girls at once, I get it. Geez.

So yeah, he no doubt informed Earth's most powerful superteam that I am back on the scene. So I can expect Admiral Admirable to show up any second and punch me in the face while he lectures me on the morality of my actions. Yippee. Actually, I think this is a good thing. If the media has to hear about my return, it definately adds some credibilty to me to have the Earth's Elite make the announcement. That will get me one Page one for sure. Or at least the front section somewhere, right?

Based on the destroyed wreckage of alien battle ships floating around here in orbit maybe (maybe!) I'll get bumped off the front page for whatever this mess was. I suppose "Alien Attack Defeated" beats "Master Super-villain Returns." No. You know what? I am the bigger news here. There have been dozens of repelled alien invasions, but how many times have I defeated the icy grip of the grave? Just once! Give me my headlines!

Thanks, Dr. Hunter

So I am awakened from my hibernation by Green Hunter, as he and the Earth's Elite are having some sort of skirmish with an alien armada of some sort. I am woefully uninformed when it comes to the various alien empires. You'd think that I would know more, what with me being the (former) Scorloon Emperor for Life and all, but I never could keep all of the colliding constants straight on those names. Just mash your hand on a keyboard and you have a 75% chance of hitting on the name of one of those races. "Duygbl?" "Gytrublv?" "Lcytjvkjbhhk?" Yeah, those are all (probably) accurate. And that's before you even get to the ones who communicate telepathically. For those you need to visualize a potato dancing with an empty orange bucket in order to say "hello". That way lays madness, I say.

Anyways, in the course of their battle Green Hunter is sent sailing off into an asteroid belt and he bumps into my asteroid-y looking cocoon. This awakens me, and after I burrow my way through the (delicious) larval crust I shatter the cocoon off my body. I'm a little groggy and out of it, so I say "Innnnttttteeeeerrrrnnnn?" I'm pretty sure this scares the crap out of him, and looks at me with shock (and awe) and says, "You!? It can't be... you're dead!"

Yeah, welcome back. Thanks idiot. So I fired some energy blasts at him and then took off to get my bearings. So now I'm on my way back to Earth. Dead? What do they think of me back there? What did that stupid robot do now? Dead? Not cool, doppelganger, not cool.

A wake-up call

Apparently, I've been, uh, out of it for a while. This is news to me, of course. I was trying to get a handle on the new, totally awesome, cosmic scope of my Walking Blackhole-gifted-abilities. The transition was, I'll admit, a little rough. The days of sleeplessness had me grappling with real philosophical demons; "Is my 'Super-villain' moniker stupid, or brilliant?", "Why are my eyes on fire?", "Does anyone else smell cotton candy?".

Finally (finally!) I was able to reach a singular state of Zen With The Universe And All The Life It Encompasses Throughout The Countless Eons and find sleep. Or I just punched myself in the face until I blacked out (U-Make-The-Call!).

Well, let me take a step back here for a second. There are 2 terrible things that happened during my rest. First, my body recuperated from my cosmic upgrade. Well not recuperate, exactly. I've gathered that the cosmic energy is rewriting my body to comply with the Walking Blackhole's needs of a Vanguard: flight, cool energy abilities, and a singular tuning to his Terrible Hunger. To do all that, the old body has to go. So the glowing eyes were just a sign of my body being disintegrated from the inside out! So in exchange for these new powers I get cooked from within, like a hot dog in a microwave. So my body more is more "regurgitated", than recuperated. I guess it's a long process too, because I had to form a cocoon of organic rock and lose two months on my Year of Super-Villainy.

Yes, I was floating in the depths of space in an asteroid like cocoon for 2 months. Will anyone back on Earth even remember me? All that brand building I worked on, and I let it all go to waste? Gah! Actually, 2 months isn't so bad. The process didn't totally finish. I actually got prematurely awoken from my hibernation by an interstellar super-hero fight. That brings me to the second terrible thing to happen to me. The thing that woke me up? The first face I see after the long metamorphosis?

Green Hunter!

You want some crazy? I got your crazy!

I haven't slept in 4 days. My glowing eyes are driving me insane. Insane, I say! The giraffes are closing in. Free the waffle!

Mmmm! Delicious.

The Scorloon worlds are no more. The Walking Blackhole has devoured them. I've got awesome cosmic powers now that I need to try out. They were a bit vague on what these new abilities are. For one thing, my eyes now glow constantly. It looks awesome coming out of my mask eye holes, but is making it very difficult to sleep. I'm sure the other things I can do now are much cooler. Also, did you know that when the Walking Blackhole consumes a world he unhinges his jaw? Yeah. It's one of things you can never un-see.

Moon 5 is for carbon copies

Perhaps you have noticed the lapse in posting recently? (Or not.) Well, I have been wrapped up in tense negotiations with the Walking Blackhole! Okay, not the Walking Blackhole himself. He is as large as a dwarf star, which makes it difficult to talk man to man, er, Celestial Force. But 'ol Blackhole has a guy. A go-fer. A guy who finds him planets to sate his "unquenchable hunger." I know. How do you sate an unquenchable hunger? It doesn't really matter.

The point is that to find these planets the Blackhole has gifted vast cosmic energy to some dude to get the job done. Honestly, he mentioned that he was somethingsomething, Vanguard of the Walking Blackhole, but I didn't catch it. It's been a bit awkward having 2 weeks of negotiations with him when I can't remember his name. "Hey...there, you." "Yes, I agree... with you..." I don't think he's noticed though. His glowing visage doesn't seem too emotive, so it's hard to tell.

Anyway, the Scorloons control 3 planets in the system and 17 moons. Most of those are used for inventory storage and bookkeeping. When everything you do requires 15 forms, it takes up space (pun! ha!) fast. So in exchange for providing these delicious planetary snacks (and a couple of billion Scorloon lives) to the Walking Blackhole, he will endow me with a portion of his immeasurable power. So the deal: he doesn't eat me, and I get some sweet power upgrades.

That's what I call win-win.

Clearly, this is a mandate

The results are in.

I am now the Scorloon Emperor for Life! No more red tape (for me). No more annoying minutia. Just a planet where my every whim is law. This will be great. The only downside is that I'm ruling Scoloons. They're... nice, I guess. It'd just be nice to actually be able to select an Empress that doesn't have exposed pulsating egg sacs, you know?

Also, I don't think they got the hang of what an election is. Maybe they don't have a proud democratic tradition, but this was a little shocking. There are something like 2 billion Sorloons on the planet, and I won by receiving one vote. From myself, of course.

Well, I hope they keep that level of civil involvement for rebellion when I lead their culture to disastrous ruin.

Vote or die!

The Super-Villain for Scorloon Emperor for Life campaign is going very strong. Okay, technically, this election is a sham that I cannot possibly lose, but it's rewarding to be out there meeting the people. Well, not really people. I'm on the road, shaking, er, "sucker-clasps" and kissing babies, um, "larva." Not really kissing in the conventional sense. Smiling at, maybe? But you can't really tell with my face mask on. So I suppose I glower for a few seconds at the grubs before they scurry off in fear and confusion. Ah, politics!

So vote Super-Villain for Emperor for Life! Or don't. It doesn't even matter. (Those are the best kinds of elections.)

A minor loophole

Of course! The whole Scorloon society is a tangled bureaucratic ball of Christmas lights. There are levels upon levels of redundant, useless committees. You have to fill out practically 15 pages of forms to go to the bathroom. They are a bloated, obsolete, decaying, intergalactic empire. But...

The whole thing is maintained with computers! And who has techno-pathy? Me!

So, I simply walked past the Scorloon Central Hive-Mind computer, used my awesome techno-pathic abilities, and *voila!* I am now a candidate (okay, the only candidate) for Scorloon Emperor for Life. It's a little disappointing that I didn't need a revolution by force, but I can't get caught up in style points. It's results that count.

Besides, there's time. Nothing says Emperor for Life like senseless public executions. Huzzah!

Maybe it's not so alien after all

I am now officially a member of the Implementation Team Oversight Committee to Plan the Conquest of Earth. Easily condensed into the easy to say acronym: ITOCPCE. That's Eee-toe-Kkkjjkchhpuuckke. Sadly, that rolls off the tongue easier than the beautiful Scorloon language.

Now, just to be clear, this is not the team that is going conquer the Earth. This is not the team that is planning how to conquer Earth. This is not the the team that is overseeing the team that is planning the conquest of Earth. This is the team that is deciding how we are going to select the committee that is going to oversee the team that is going to plan how another team is going to conquer Earth. (We have 12, very strong candidates. It's going to be tough to whittle those down to 4.)

So, yes, the entire civilization in stuck in 317 levels of bureaucratic nonsense. I just can't imagine why they've had such trouble conquering a planet full of super-powered loose cannons. Hmmm...

Yes, I've only been on their Homeworld ("Scorloonivinoxuloumushing", really?) for a couple days and I'm already completely fed up with the forms, and committees, and meetings, and minutes, and minutia. Who would have thought that an alien species where every person looks completely identical would have such a hard time making a decision? And then there's the ITOCPCE Benchmark Initiative which is the committee monitoring us as we pick the committee to oversee... ah, screw it.

Maybe it's time to introduce a little Proton Diplomacy in this game. Blast the sides off "the box," so to speak. Time to swing the "big stick." Make the "buck stop" and all that.

Just as soon as my Proposal for Radical Governmental Change gets recognized by the Sitting Committee for Imperial Governmental Procedure, Changes, and Possible Redundancy Eliminations (and Oral Hygiene).

I'll take door #3, if you don't mind

Here I am riding on a Scorloon battle cruiser. Things are going well. I'm looking out the view window, watching the Earth disappear into the distance as we enter the amber-violet spectrum of trans-spatial warp. It's all good. I am preparing myself for the awaiting throngs of Scorloons, eager for me to lead them to greatness. I am ready. But first, I want some food. No problem, right? I tell the on-board compu-drive to give me the finest dish in the Scorloon menu.

Well, first it wants to know my height and weight (in "Thrggsh" or whatever the unit of measure on Scorloon is), then it wants to get a skin sample, then I have to fill out a color based personality examination ("How does green taste?"), then I need to attach a copy of my Scorloon military record... Hey! Stupid computer, just bring me a goddamned burger or something!

Finally (finally!), I seem to have made it through whatever hoops it has left and it opens the tele-hatch and gives me the meal. It is not a burger. It is not a noodle-based dish. It is not even a vegetable. It appears to be what would happen if a centipede had a baby with a frog (with a skin condition). It's repulsive.

And it's still alive!


So where am I in my Year of Super-Villainy? Hmmm.

Let's see. I accidentally created "Skyline's Newest Super-Hero Sensation," the idiotic Green Hunter. I've battled a hamster (And cannot declare a clear victory. Damn you Hamster, damn you!). I've been betrayed by the one minion I thought I could trust. And I've been surpassed in villainous reputation by my robotic doppelganger. Yeah, this year's been just great!

I've been thinking that maybe what I need is a change of scenery. A fresh start. When I had a crisis of confidence before, I realized that I wasn't thinking big enough. I needed a big city instead of a little town. Well, you know, maybe just a city isn't big enough for my aspirations. I need to go intergalactic.

That's right, I have made some contacts with the Scorloons. I perhaps was too harsh in my earlier assessment of them. They're actually quite potent. And their language is beautifully melodic. I don't know who said it sounded like "a bear raping a refrigerator," but they (clearly) didn't know what they were talking about. They have read about my exploits and #17 Most Wanted ranking (Shhh. Don't ruin this for me.) and want me to help them in the (eternal) quest to conquer Earth.

I have graciously accepted their offer to travel to their Empire and help them develop fool-proof plans for victory. When I return, this victory will not be hollow. It will be filled with the gooey sweetness of revenge!

I can barely even post this

From the weekly Most Wanted List:

#17: SUPER-VILLAIN, This former minor league villain has taken a huge step toward becoming a major threat, to not only the city, but the world as well. In a matter of days, the metallic menace derailed a major scientific experiment of Professor Excellence (causing tremendous damage to the StupeDOU's skyscraper home), defeated Green Hunter and the Scarlett Underground in combat, and has been seen with the likes of such heavyweights as A-BOMB-A-NATION and Sir Tan-Death.

Known abilities: Teleportation, Plasma blasts, Force Field, Flight

Is there no limit to my indignities? I didn't do any of that stuff. That's my freaking robot!

And it can fly?!


We'll carve it on your gravestone

Apparently, the former minion's beef with me is that I never gave him his family sanctuary in Escartion. Well, yeah, okay. Not yet. But, of course, Escartion doesn't exist. It seems that that fact really got into his craw. He kept saying "Escartion, Escartion" while that damned robot duplicate held me at blaster-point. Again, okay, yes, Escartion doesn't exist. Not yet. But I totally could make a place called Escartion. After the global domination. Minions just don't have any patience.

I mean, am I frustrated not to be unquestioned emperor of the world? Sure. But I have vision. And vision takes patience. You can't just be a whiny baby and secretly program your master's robot duplicate to obey only your orders. That's not cool. That might be okay in the Philippines or Cambodia or Korea or wherever you're from, but here, in the big boy world that's not how it works.

Now, Zippidy Minion, I'm afraid I will have to destroy you and your family. I will call your grave "Escartion."

Cause that's poetic justice. Get it?

Turkey, turkey, turkey

Hey! The holidays! Aren't they great? Who had turkey? Delicious or dry? Dry, huh? Yeah, it's easy to overcook those turkeys. I've heard that there is some sort of Scorloon tentacled, jelly-cow, thing that tastes just like turkey. Isn't that weird? Yeah. Were you thankful for something? Thankful for companionship? Thankful for loyalty? Thankful for dimensional travel?

Ooh! How's your holiday shopping going? It's just crazy out there, huh? The lines, the sales, the credit card debt, it's just nuts. Yeah. I''m just thinking holidays right now. I'm not even really worrying about the whole "super-villain" thing. I'm just being mellow. You know, just trying to get through it all. Boy, so many people to shop for! How can I even think about assembling an arsenal of weaponry to systematically defeat the Earth's Elite when I've got cards to write and gifts to buy? It's not weird or anything. I'm just filled with the festive spirit.

I'm just that kind of guy. You probably didn't pick up on that in my earlier posts, but I'm not going to judge. I'm onion-y. I've got layers. Nuance. I just look forward to a stocking of thoughtfully purchased gifts that can fit into a 3 inch wide sock. That's okay. Right? Yeah, that's okay.

Oh, but you know what's not okay? You know what's not festive? You know what's not thankful-ish?

Having your own goddamn minion turn on you with your own robot duplicate and drive you into hiding! Now, Z, you must die.

I, Robot

Minion Z has come out of his funk and constructed his first robot duplicate of me! I know I vowed to kill him, but the enterprising little guy is just so handy to have around. I know it's not very villainous, but damn it, I appreciate the guy. Is that so wrong?

Now, let the super-hero mind-warp-ery begin!

Quality is worth the price

Actually, I take it back. The Purple Pirate head and hat display case looks great. Teak, copper, glass, it is beautiful. Well worth the expense. And the taxidermist did a fantastic job with the Pirate's head. He looks like he was a very intimidating opponent; steely glare, teeth clenched, hat cocked down slightly over his eyes. (Have I mentioned how awesome his hat is?) The typographer did a great job on the plaque as well. Very classy. Trajan as the font, I believe.

I just keep staring at it. What a battle trophy! Now it is a "Den of Evil" indeed. Z seems deeply distraught by my new addition. Well, if he's going to hang with me he'sgoing to have to toughen up a little. Don't his people eat dogs or something? Now that's disturbing. All he does now is huddle in the corner, flinch, and cry softly to himself. It's hilarious!

This display case is great! It's the gift that keeps on giving!

It's a damn shame

I am furious!

The new Most Wanted list came out and I only moved up one spot? #21? I just killed the Purple Pirate. Does that not mean anything to you... you... whoever determines the Most Wanted? The old Pirate is (er, was) surely one of the top super-heroes in the world! The world of localized street crime. Street crime within the 18th and 45th street vicinity of the city. Mostly at night and early evening.

I mean, the sword, the buccaneer hat, the monochromatic outfit? Oh, and the EYE PATCH!? Who else has all that? Yeah, he wasn't a "heavy-hitter." But, you know, that whole "lifting buildings" thing that those show-offs do is really over-rated. The Pirate didn't engage in gratuitous feats of muscle. No. He was in there, getting dirty, getting real work done against my fellow criminal element.

And the Parrot Lads! His sidekicks. I think there are three, no, maybe four acrobatic teens who helped in his battle against villainy. He touched real lives here. Will that be swept under the rug after his demise? Will no one weep for the loss of the Purple Pirate?

It's disappointing that the Pirate has been so quickly dismissed. I kind of feel bad for the poor guy. Boy, now I feel a little awkward about the display case I've commissioned to hold his severed head and kickin' buccaneer hat.

Let me cut you off...

I keep getting e-mails from Autonomous Robot, Terror of the Slums, and a couple of other low-grade super-villains. "Why haven't you updated?" "Where is your next post?" "How do I know how to become a better super-villain?" Great. I'm the leader of a bunch of has-beens and never-will-bes.

Okay, you pathetic losers. Here's what I've been doing; the perfect bank robbery. Now, I know I've mentioned before what I think about crime for financial gain. But this is different. This is about perfecting my technique. I've got my teleportation rig set up within the armor so I can open a portal to a specific place and then walk right through. So the plan is simple; teleport into a bank vault, throw bags of cash through the portal (into my apartment, where the minion organizes it), and then walk out. It's easy, has netted me about $1.2 million in a week, and has jumped me up the Most Wanted charts (#22, suckers!). I even heard that Admiral Admirable, (Yes, the Admiral Admirable) mentioned that he would take steps to stop my "plague of larceny". Oh, Admiral. "Plague of Larceny?" You can coin a phrase.

But if you think that's totally awesome, (Which it is, Autonomous Robot, you pitiful sack of circuits.) listen to this. I'm in the middle of the robbery scheme and the Purple Pirate busts in and tries to take me out. I'm just about done with the robbery, so I ignore him and close my portal to leave. Well, I guess the Pirate moves faster then I thought, because he was nearly on me. Too bad for him that the portal closed and severed his head clean off! Holy crap! I killed the Purple Pirate! That should move me into the Top 20 for sure.

Always trust what you read

The teleportation rig is a go! My power set now reads: Techno-pathy, battle armor, and teleportation. It's a little eclectic, but it's a lot better than where I was at the beginning.

All day I've been teleporting stuff through my end of the wormhole. I'm not totally sure where the other end goes, but they are now the proud recipients of a Most Improved Soccer award, some spare Atom-Vortex parts, a dead rat, 3 phone books I swiped from my neighbor, and about 50 copies of the local apartment renters guide. (I swear they print 5 million of those things and no one ever picks them up.)

I haven't tried going through myself (yet), but I hope it's depositing all this crap right into the Earth's Elite headquarters. Maybe I should print up some "Green Hunter Sucks!" fliers. Then they will no doubt realize that he does, in fact, suck.

And they will kick him off the team.

And banish him to Limbo-verse.

And then disband.

And then give control over the planet to me. Yes, that would be nice.