Name of the game

I was working on some my distinctive "calling cards" when I realized that I haven't mentioned my super-villain alias. Truly, an egregious oversight.

Now, I know there is a strong camp that believes that your name should be structured along the lines of "Title Description." That would be a title like "Professor", "General", "Emperor", something like that and then the description of what you intend to do: "Death", "Doom", "Apocalypse". You get the idea. I don't like the notion though because it relies on a title. Titles are given by the authorities, and as I've mentioned before, being a villain is all about subverting authority. You can't play by their rules.

Or you can go with something that is related to your powers, but I don't like being pigeonholed by my (current) power set. I've got big ambitions. Nothing less than universal domination will do, so I'm not going to be stuck with some lame name just because my first powers were nano-tech related. Please.

I'm trying to elevate the game here. So I've decided to go with something deceptively simple, "Super-villain". It says what I am and I am what it says. It's so obvious that everyone else has overlooked it. I am going to define the word through my actions. It's brilliant.

Plus, they'll have to use my photo in the dictionary.


I'm all moved in now. I've got the wide screen TV for monitoring my schemes/henchmen. (Currently still only in the "plotting" phases.) I've got a good supply of canned food and water for the next time some cosmological deity decides to crash its sun-eating ass into the city power grid. I've got my computer set up locked in and running some battle simulations against various heroes. I've got all of my spare machine parts in the "office." (Soon to be renamed. I haven't decided on which is better; "Den of Evil" or "Crime Lab". That would be where crimes are created, not solved.) And over there is the cot I found on a street corner where Z, the minion, (fitfully) sleeps.

Now to put plots into action. It got me thinking about motivation, why we villains do what we do.

For most of them, the motivation is the basic: cash. It's a trap though. You blast your way through a bank, collect a couple bags of money, and then... what? Where do you go from there? If you're a super-villain you can't just spend it, you're far too flamboyant to just walk into a store and buy your heart's desire. Plus, you're on the villain database and the latest edition of the Noticer's Guide, so you can't easily quietly slip off to retirement. You have to constantly battle authorities or super-heroes to keep your money. So then you end up spending it all on means to battle the heroes... it's a downward spiral, really.

Other villains are in it for revenge. That's all well and good. Certainly I have aspirations of blasting Green Hunter into non-existence, but that can't be your sole goal. Even if you succeed, it is only a fleeting accomplishment. Self-esteem is nice, but is it worth the potential death or injury. (Obviously, Green Hunter is the exception.)

Then, there's conquest. That's more up my alley. Remaking the world in your own image. A noble goal. Making the world a better place, really.

Then there's the poor saps who have devolved into semi-sentient threats. Your lumbering heaps of destruction that provide a nice punching bag for some dumb hero to slug away at. Some guy wanders into the wrong chemical plant and comes out a muck-beast of some sort, completely accidentally, and a "hero" get's his kicks out of punching the holy hell out of him until he blacks out from pain or injury? Who's the bad guy then? Bastards.

Even in a world where a man can shoot lasers out of his eyes...

Even with the glittering technology of my power suit, even with an obedient minion, and even with nano-technology, it still sucks to move.

Packing and labeling all of your crap really makes you realize how much clutter you can accumulate. Especially when you need to bring all of your doomsday machines and machine/animal hybrid experiments. I'm really maxing out on my student loan money on this enterprise. Good thing I'm never going to repay them the cash. (Since I will be High Lord of the Universe, natch.)

Hauling everything back and forth to the trucks makes me consider getting rid of all my test tubes, global domination idea notebooks, and atom vortex spare parts. But I just know that as soon as I get rid of something I'm going to need it to battle the Purple Pirate or something. Sigh.

Next time I'm just going to build a teleportation doorway and save myself the trouble. (Note to self: learn how to build teleportation gateways!)

Victory! (hollow)

I alluded to it in my last post, but there was some action this weekend. The police, surprisingly, figured out that I vaporized that bar owner guy, Barry (?). I'm just terrible with names. Fortunately when they arrived I was suited up. I was just about to head over and dispense some plasma-hot revenge on that back-stabbing trollop. Instead, I spent my weekend in a 14-hour stand-off/firefight with a couple dozen armed cops. Fun, right? The good news is that I was victorious (finally!) and defeated all opposition. I am now the unquestioned ruler of a small mid-western town. The bad news is that I'm the unquestioned ruler of a small mid-western town. Frankly, it's not glorious at all. And police are my challenge? Am I a common thug? Where is the splendor and spectacle in that?

All the pointlessness of it just washed over me for a while. I prepared a drink (On the house. I'm the owner after all.) and just drank it in the burned out wreckage of a police cruiser for a while. Then I realized what I needed to do: it's time to take it up a notch. It's time to get into the big leagues. That idiot Green Hunter did what I should have done as soon I got this armor working. Damn you, Hunter! I am going to go the big city, Skyline, and shove a proton cannon down his throat. (And then fire that proton cannon. And incinerate his internal organs. Killing him. Dead, dead.) Yeah, that's sounds good. This current time-continuum is too short to waste with this pittance of a town.

Now, it is on!


Many things happened this weekend, but I'm not going to go into it right now. I'm too hurt.

Valentine, now two-time Hot Bod champ, has dealt me the harshest blow yet. She has betrayed me. Her name is not actually "Valentine"! It's "Amber" or "Amanda" or something like that. Valentine is her stripper name! First she lies to me about her name and then she misleads me about her occupation!? She claimed she was a dental hygienist! I had already planned to use her expertise in assembling metallic jaws for my theoretical army of Chomper-men. But does she know anything that would help me with that? No! Knowing how to keep $114 in one dollar bills in a single g-string is not going to help me defeat the Earth's Elite!

And don't even start with the hypocritical aspect of my own using a super-villain name rather than my real name, it's totally different. I am competing in a field where an intimidating name is going to win half my battles. Are you going to mess with someone named Complete Destruction? Or Devourous the Terrible? It's about building your super-villain brand. You need to develop your name and figure out your gimmick. Can a guy called Sandpaper Assassin have teleportation powers? No, it has to be sand-related. You are competing against guys with the craziest outfits you've ever imagined, after all. You need to stand out from the pack. This isn't that hard. Geez.

Worst of all, she was using me to get better scores in the Hot Bod contests. Who knew she would betray this town leading (okay, only) super-villain for a $50 prize? I take back the 10's and 9.7's! I never meant it!

The scenic valleys of Escartion

It's another Friday, and here at The Pub that means inventory. God, I hate inventory. But, I'm in a suit of armor bristling with deadly weapons, so that means I'm not doing anything. I'm hiding out here in the back while the minion and the employees do everything. That's something you need to learn as a super-villain, delegating (you can't do everything by yourself). But now I'm bored, so I'm going to tie up some loose ends.

1) The Hamster: I have not had any more annoying transmissions lately. So, the hamster is dead and being swallowed by a rabid dog. Or is at least out of range to save my sanity. I don't know who I need to threaten to ensure it, but I really hope the dog scenario is correct.

2) The minion (Z): He has been quite loyal, despite the fact that this armor I'm using may have been his thesis project and I have villainously taken it for my own nefarious ends. How is this possible? Ah, but my weapons are of both the cybernetic body and the mind. I simply told him that the authorities are the ones who destroyed his dorm room (back in the Hamster battle) and he quite eagerly believed me. It seems that the rulers of his homeland do that sort of thing all the time. Also, I promised to make him the Provincial Governor of Escartion and to allow his family to live there in freedom and safety (provided they can escape the iron rule of their native dictator). Every time he seems to lose his nerve, I bring up this promise and vaporize a shot glass to show him that I can give him this title and lots of land in fertile Escartion.

Well, I could, if Escartion actually existed. I made it up. I am a super-villain after all.

Case #16442: Larry v. Super-villain

The unchallenged dominance of my rule did not last long. Larry, The Pub's former owner, returned after the weekend and he was slightly annoyed to find that he was no longer in charge. He kept blathering on about where is my paperwork? Who do I think I am? I'm going to get my lawyer on the phone? I mean, really? A lawyer? I'm a freaking super-villain! Like a well constructed court order is going to have any effect on my actions. That's the whole point of being a super-villain!

Super-heroes are The Man. The Authority. All of their actions are about maintaining the status quo. All that sweat, grit, and determination they muster is about keeping things exactly the same way they are. They are anti-change, anti-progress, really. I mean, I think it's probably an improvement to reshape the coastline of Asia into the likeness of my face. (It will look awesome from space! C'mon!) Or to transform the people of England into obedient bio-machines. But, no, Heroes are always working to thwart this kind of real advancement. People may think it's some sort of flaw to be a super-villain, but what it's really about is freedom! Freedom to think how you want to think! Freedom to be who you want to be! Freedom to annihilate who you want to annihilate! Freedom to raise the werewolf ninja armies that you want to raise!

Sorry about that. I got caught up in the feeling of it all. Anyways, Larry is there yapping at me about quid pro quo or something, and I have (unfortunately) been caught out of my battle armor. This is an embarrassing thing to admit, but I was not prepared. Honestly, after the big sales of "Five Dollah Friday" and the success of judging the "Hot Bod" contest on Saturday, I was feeling a little too relaxed. Also, Valentine, the Hot Bod winner seems quite responsive to my flirting when I'm out of the armor.

So I was caught with my quantum pants down, so to speak. I quickly retreated to the back room and sent out my robotic minion to handle things until I got suited up. Okay, "robotic minion" is a bit of a stretch. It was my usual minion, Z, but he was wearing some scrap metal and a hand-crafted pail painted to look like a face. It looks terrible, but honestly, no one really knows what to do when you see that staggering toward you shouting Cantonese (?).

I'll give him credit though, Larry took initiative and began pummeling Z. If I need to work on my fighting skills, then Z really, really needs help. But what are minions for if not to be punching bag distractions? (Answer: nothing) Once I was back in the armor the battle went as follows:

Me: I command you to die!

Larry: Wha-?

Me: *fusion blast*

Larry: *vaporize*

Ha! Case closed. Is that legally binding enough for you Larry?

Yes, we're still doing "Five-Dolla' Fridays"

It seems as though it's been forever, but now, finally, the steps toward global domination have begun. While I have plans to conquer the world, and hopefully, all of reality, I do have some scores to settle. Some personal injuries that must be settled first.

I awoke early in morning and went to the departmental lounge and vaporized all of the copies of Johann's thesis papers. That's right, I have obliterated the culmination of 8 years of diligent study and writing! Now who's the brightest star at the University? The only glow now is emanating from your scorched theses! Ha, ha! I have also sent him an e-mail laced with a worm virus that will wipe out his computer's saved version of his work. (One must be thorough in this regard.) I neglected to inform him that I sent this e-mail with the power of my mind, but I think complete academic annihilation should suffice.

I am choosing to wait on the defeat of my own committee members. I have hopes of completely eliminating them from the timestream, but (unfortunately) I can't muster that power level. Yet! Yet.

But these are matters of the ephemeral mental realm. How about getting into the grimy, real world of doomsday machines and blasting the hell out of muscle-bound super-heroes? Well, no heroes (Yet! Yet.), but I have conquered my first parcel of real estate. The grand dominion has its humble origins in the conquest of The Pub!

Several years ago, some irritating bartender there refused my completely valid ID and refused to serve me my drink of choice. (Running a driver's license through the credit card machine doesn't prove if it's valid you moron!) On my birthday no less! This crime could not go unanswered, so I strapped into my battle-suit and marched in and declared myself the new ruler of the third most popular bar in this University town. Resistance was minimal. That is, it was, after I explained that I wasn't going to change any policies and business could proceed as usual. The student bartender (Derrick) said that Larry, the (previous) owner, was out of town. "He's usually gone for, like, a couple weeks. He'll come back and say he's got some new, great idea, or something. Just as long as I can keep my tips, it's cool with me." Yes Derrick, it is cool indeed. Very cool.

Smells like scorched melon

Let me ask you a few simple questions. Who's a clanking, shiny vehicle of doom? Who's got death-lasers and death-laser-blocking forcefields at the ready to smack you down? Who's a walking menace that is going to wipe the Green Hunter off the face of the earth?

Booyah! I am!

Who spent their weekend vaporizing watermelons from 30 yards? Who has a terrifying mask that will make super-heroes shrivel at the sight of it? And most importantly, who is about to become the master of all he surveys?

That's right, me!

Hell yeah!

Who spent their weekend running back and forth to the store to stock up on watermelons? Who then had to draw Green Hunter style masks on all the watermelons and then place them on the target post with the name "Green Hunter" scrawled on them?

Not me! That's what minions are for.

A simple, elegant solution

I'm direct blogging from my mind now. I'm so excited. Why didn't I think of this before? The hamster's a problem? KILL THE HAMSTER! A nice, simple, elegant solution.

So my first act of villainy will be perpetrated on an eight ounce rodent? No problem. My path to glory and infamy will overwhelm this humble beginning. I mean, what are they going to remember, that I first battled a hamster, or that I blanketed the world in a plague of werewolf ninjas? (Werewolf ninjas? I should remember that for later.)

I'm going to the minion's dorm room. I've sent him out to gather materials for the armor, but I've given him hopelessly convoluted instructions that should keep him occupied for

- oooooh! a weeelll! when did that get here? wanna run! -

Aaargh! See what I'm talking about? Constant annoying inter...

- run. run. ooo. me hungry, want food! hey! a foodman!-

Shhh. I'm going to quietly go into the room. I see you hamster. I'm coming to get Yes, little hamster, I've got food for you; how about some hot lead? Do you have enough of that in your diet? Ha, ha!

- hi foodman! give food! food! food! wait what that? that not food. danger! run!-

You can't hide in there little bastard! I'll smash your tunnel to bits! Ha, take that! I'm going to kill you so...

- run! run! danger! -

Damn, I missed. Hold still you little fuzzball!

- mean, mean foodman! hide, hide. danger! -

Shut up! Crap, I'm out of bullets. Boy those things can smash a place up. He's around here somewhere. I'll just stomp on him. Heeere, hamster hamst...

- new tunnel! run! danger! -

Crap, he's running for the vent! Stop, stop!


Okay, okay. Let me gather my thoughts here. So, the minion's room is kind of in shambles. I guess I really need to take a shooting course. Yes, and a fighting course. (Damn you, Hunter!) So, the hamster managed to dodge the shots. Maybe, in retrospect I should have just grabbed the hamster and just finished him quickly. I guess I fell into the old villain trap of trying to be too flashy with the gun and all. It was just going to be so cathartic to shoot that hamster and silence him forever. But...

So I missed, smashed open the cage, and he escaped through a vent. It all happened so fast, I couldn't tell if I wounded it or not. Maybe I did. You know how chickens can run around for a while even with their heads cut off? Maybe I've mortally wounded it, but adrenaline and dying muscle memory got it into the vent? I haven't heard any other comments since it ran in there. Yes, I'm sure it's dead. That's a relief. Now I can get back...

- mean foodman! hamster free now. hamster free! -