Old crab-face (Noticer's ID's him as the Walrus Warlord. I don't know what sort of walruses they have around where he grew up, but they don't look like that.) didn't get over to the Turning Observatory in time before I was able to snag three (count 'em) cosmic scatterers. I know, the teleportation rig only requires one, but now I can flip one for a pretty penny and keep one as a spare. I am becoming certified-awesome, am I right? You'd think that would be enough, but guess what?
No, not a robot invasion.
No.
No! Come on! I would never breed with an Alien! Disgusting!
Green Hunter was there! He was there doing something for the Observatory and tried to thwart my scheme. I blasted away at him until my batteries were near empty. Unfortunately, he was able to deflect my shots with his stupid green sparkles (They should have been mine!). But, in all the confusion I knocked over something and it imperiled a civilian. Being the goofy super-hero he is, of course he ran over to rescue them. Ah ha! But I got away! Suck it, idiot intern!
A bounty of riches
Take a number
Boy, things are different here in the big city. I'm in the process of getting together some equipment to build a teleportation rig. You know, your basic atom strippers, gravity rails, Heisenberg compensators, basic stuff. Professor Excellence, in his enormous ego, has published his work in the field. And really, if you just follow along, it's not that hard to do. Well, the stuff is not so basic because it's all stored in random high-tech labs around the city. So I grab the armor suit and head over to snag some shiny technology.
It's not like the sleepy University town though. There's already a super-villain there. Bad form. I didn't have my Noticer's Guide to Super-Humans with me so I couldn't ID him. His face kind of looked like a crab having a hemorrhoids attack, if that makes any sense. He was incomprehensibly ranting (Having a hemorrhoidal crab-face apparently gives you a very heavy accent.) and battling some sort of Roman-themed hero. I really need to study my Noticer's if I'm going to hang around here, I didn't recognize him either. They fought for a while, but I decided that they had a kind of a thing going and went back to the Den of Evil.
In the end I came away empty-handed. I'm not used to this hectic super-human city. Maybe next time I need to make an appointment or something. Or wake up early.
Motivation
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.
Machines and minions
Rome was not built in a day. In this timeline, at least. So, I am ramping up slowly to my status as a super-villain. The first conundrum to overcome is key: acquiring powers. Now, as I mentioned yesterday, I have obtained some components from The University's surplus store. Professor Excellence required 6 cyclotrons (compensating for something "Excellence?") for one of his big trans-dimensional bubble cannons last year (It drove off The Walking Blackhole, if you recall), and in doing so the University was left with several pieces of old atom-warping machinery that no longer worked. Thanks to the state laws that forbid the outright discarding of University/taxpayer property these components were available at very reasonable prices.
According to The Noticer's Guide to Super-Humans, roughly 34% of all super-humans gained their abilities after a mechanical mishap. Experimental explosion, radioactive badger, trans-dimensional doorway malfunction, you know, the usual.
Now I have cobbled together the pieces and intend to endow myself with abilities (as yet unknown) beyond those of mortal men. But, there is also a good chance I will be vaporized. To test the machine I have enlisted the assistance of my first minion! Yes, a college student named Hunter is now assisting me. He believes that this is an internship, and that he will snag an easy 3 credit hours. Oh yes, Hunter, it will be easy... if you survive! "Oh, no, it's perfectly safe. I'll just be standing right here behind 15 feet of reinforced steel." Foolish intern.
