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!
Victory! (hollow)
Betrayal
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.
