It's never a good day when BetaGirl shows up on your front door step. It gets worse usually when she just knocks a hole through the roof and plants herself sternly in front of your desk in your innermost sanctum sanctorium. She cracked her knuckles and started to tap her right toe in anticipation of performing some bodily harm upon my august personage. The glare she gave me was certainly world class — and well worthy of the world's famous and renown super-heroine.
I suppose it was warranted. After all, according to the tabloids I was Public Enemy #1 and an insane super-villain bent upon either global anarchy or some fiendish plot to become the greatest evil overlord since Genghis Khan.
Absolute nonsense of course. No one in their right mind would want to be an Evil Overlord™ anyway. The hours are bad, the pay is irregular and the most beautiful maidens in your kingdom are either crazier than you are or will fall in love with your archenemy and plot your downfall. Also, it's nearly impossible to get good qualified Minions of Evil ™ anymore. You certainly can't find any good ones on either Monster.com or Craigslist. I gave up the idea a long time ago ... besides, I like sleeping in late. A few years ago I tried to grow a really evil looking beard, but it really just made me look Emo, so I shaved it off. Spock and Vincent Price could pull it off, but these are sadder and wussier times.
Even my best David Nivenesque disarming smile didn't do a thing to put her at ease and she marched up to me with barely controlled fury.
I couldn't think of anything specific that I'd done recently to piss her off. Except of course:
- Sending the plague of WALL-E robots to dismantle General Motors corporate headquarters building. Sorry, but it looked like junk to me, and they'd really ticked me off.
- Perhaps it was the misunderstanding concerning that global television broadcast that showed the Prime Minster of Japan sodomizing the CEO of Honda in full leather fetish gear, on all channels (photoshopped of course, but by professionals).
- Unleashing the FemBots, designed to look like members of the Brady Bunch and the Osmond and Partridge families, to terrorize and shut down all broadcasting operations at CNN, FOX, NBC & the BBC for nearly a week had certainly annoyed the powers that be. CBS and ABC had already broadcast retractions of their various slurs to my good name and character in the nick of time, and PBS was still trying to get me to appear on an episode of Frontline and avoided the story entirely. Being called an "insane madman" on worldwide television just gets right up my nose and makes me really annoyed!
- Then of course there was the trivially minor matter of the rogue giant Buckyball that seized and engulfed the entire Board of Directors of General Electric and bounced them to a specially prepared desert island I'd carefully cultivated with rabid wombats and specimens of Hallucigenia sparsa.
- Concerning the relatively unimportant matter of the Director of the Department of Energy becoming permanently affixed to his office toilet seat by a bizarre mutant strain of flesh eating bacteria that continually excretes superglue, this was merely a slight misunderstanding ... I had been actually trying for his Deputy Director, the guy who actually did 95% of the real work — and the gentleman who seemed the most upset by my various discoveries.
- I do admit that sending the horde of bio-engineered flying monkeys to invade the White House during a formal state dinner for the Queen of England might have been a tad bit overdone. The part where they spray painted all over the walls and called the President a poopy-head was fine, but they exhibited a bit too much enthusiasm with the dung throwing part of program. The Queen of England, an unfortunate target of collateral damage, sent me a rather stern note, and I had to locate an extremely rare piece of Irish Balleek china to send for an apology gift that wasn't already in the Royal collection to soothe her ruffled nerves. I didn't feel like dealing with MI-5 this week; those chaps are absolutely humorless.
So much for what I'd been up to the last two weeks or so. I could go on with a few highlights from last month, but you get the idea.
I'd really been pretty much a good boy lately and really didn't see the need for one of Earth's only two legitimate "A" level Superheroes to come busting into my hidden fortress and start hassling me. Unless she also had a chunk of stock or her 401k retirement plan in eBay. Those new DSR changes really screwed up my Powerseller account, and I, in return, have been devoting my more recent efforts into painstakingly destroying their stock value painfully and slowly, until soon they'll become a penny stock! Ha!
BetaGirl is a good looking young thing. Honey blonde hair and good tits with a firm tight ass that her clinging spandex costume just barely restrains while holding all of the rest of her goodies into place. She doesn't look a day over mid-twenties which is remarkable since she's been in the super-heroine business alone for well over thirty years. What a waste of a very nice looking piece of ass though, she's in love with her work and proudly admits that she's much too busy for a boyfriend. The National Enquirer has a standing million dollar reward for any photo showing her in any sort of romantic embrace with a man, or any woman for that matter. The Weekly World News maintains she's in a love triangle with a space alien and Bat Boy, but those pics make even FARK photoshops look believable in comparison.
I wondered if she was even more socially awkward than I am. Maybe this was just her way of wanting to ask me out on a date?
Today however, she was certainly not in the mood for any romantic dalliance, or at least not with me. Dusting the debris from my ceiling off of her magnificent spandex covered breasts, she stopped for a one-liner or two. Something along the lines of "Desist! Foul miscreant your reign of evil is now at an end!" Yawn. The flourish of her cape while she denounced me was a very nice touch I do admit. I wonder how long she had practiced that move in the mirror.
I blinked a few times politely at her and then suggested that she try the next door down the hall for that particular miscreant in question, but that he might be out to lunch, so then she'd have to either wait or try back after 1:30. Me? I'm just the janitor ... never mind the big office with the fancy desk and the bank of very large computers right behind me.
BetaGirl might be blonde but she's not stupid. Reaching across my desk she grabbed me by the throat and lifted me a good five inches off of the ground. A pretty neat trick since she's barely 5'8" and I'm a good 6'3". I think she cheated and hovered off the ground a little bit, but I was too busy being strangled to appreciate how the feat was done.
"Wicked Worm! Where's the master shut-off switch to shut down your insidious engines of inequitable evil?" She actually said a good bit more, using other words that I'd never heard of in over 12 years of college while gaining six Doctorates. None of them were in English, however, but she probably just made the words up anyway to sound more threatening.
She had her hands around my windpipe a bit too firmly for me to reply, but I glanced over towards a large blinking machine with lots of fancy flashing lights and a large red button, marked in cheerful day glow letters "Danger — Do Not Push!"
This seemed to satisfy her and she tossed me aside like a ragdoll for a moment to commence the shutdown of my computer systems by pressing that button. This action did indeed shut down nearly all of the machinery in the room ... and also released an invisible cloud of paralytic nerve toxin that I am immunized against. My 'real' emergency shutdown button is in my "command center" in the basement, behind a door marked "sewage valves", accessible through an always unlocked janitor's broom closet. I have a laptop computer down there that can directly connect with secure Administrators rights, but I can usually perform nearly everything just as well from my bio-implant connection inside my skull to my real master control center, which is under a glacier in northern Greenland.
I'll be honest with you; I didn't really have any contingency plans made for this particular moment in time. Over confidence I guess — when you're in the Evil Overlord business you never think that bad things will happen to you. Having adventures certainly will make you late for supper!
Checking to make sure that BetaGirl was very much incapacitated, I grudgingly gave the order to evacuate the site but really there really wasn't too much in the way of last minute stuff to grab. I keep nearly all of my research work on my computer so I really just had to grab a few important and/or expensive pieces of equipment. I only have about ten full-time employees (i.e. evil henchmen), and they'd do fine getting out by themselves in one of the escape pods to my primary backup headquarters. Besides, having to perform an emergency escape gains them an immediate week of paid travel time/vacation ... it's in their contract.
All my secret escape pods come standard with a Corinthian leather interior, dual climate zone comfort system, satellite TV including the Spice channel, an AM/FM/CD/DVD player, an emergency small arms cache, first aid kit, foreign language phrase book, $1000 each in dollars, pounds, yen and gold, a small but decent wine selection, a box of Hershey chocolate bars, and a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror. A fellow could have a pretty good weekend in Vegas with all of that stuff!
.... There is more of this story ...