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lamuradex · 3 months ago

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Short Story: New Management

Tales of Hero City Collection

Wordcount: 6735

Synopsis: The Villains Bureau, the evil equivalent of the Guild of Heroes, is perhaps just a bureaucratic bandage against the chaos of the villains of Hero City, but it does its job of organising the madness of so many supervillains.

So when the most useless, goofy supervillain, The Trickster, turns up and decides he wants to be in charge, things quickly get pretty weird.

AO3 Link, for those that want it:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64007233

Please reblog, share, and enjoy the story!

Full Story Under The Break

New Management

Intellitron was sat towards the middle of a long table, dozens of fellow villains and ne'er-do-wells all around. At the head of the table, at a lectern, one villain was reading preprepared remarks. But Intellitron wasn’t listening. His robotic eye was playing the local radio into his nearest ear. Across from him, villains were openly sleeping, others counting ceiling tiles for entertainment.

God, the Villain Bureau meetings were dull.

Intellitron switched off his internal radio and absentmindedly started browsing the internet. He wasn’t sure if these meetings were even worth it, considering the cost of rocket fuel. His new space fortress wasn’t easy to get to. But he was a full dues paying member, so here he was. Bored out of his mind. Searching online, he soon found a recorded history of the Bureau, apparently written by their official historian, whoever that was. And because it was marginally less boring than listening to Bank Breaker on his podium, a man to which being interesting was a foreign currency with a terrible exchange rate, he began reading the article.

The Villains Bureau, the blog post began, was founded over 300 years ago, by three supervillains whose names have been lost to history. What is remembered, however, was how one of these villains was very, very rich, and the other two were very skint. The Bureau, in all its infamy, was founded as a way of robbing the rich moron by forcing him to pay exorbitant member’s fees. But, as more and more bad guys were brought in on the con, collaborations formed. Not full alliances, mind you. Villain teams are often volatile and always end in backstabbings or death. Often both. But if a villain needs advice for their vile deeds, or some emergency funds for a grand plan, then the Bureau would be of aid. Nowadays, it’s (supposedly) mainly used for settling disputes, sharing assets, avoiding backstabbings, and, most importantly, it means the bad guys have a cool clubhouse in which to argue. Unfortunately for truth and justice, the Villains Bureau Headquarters, colloquially known as The Deepest Pit, has never been found. Its exact location remains a mystery.

Article written by – J. Beckham.

Intellitron rolled his organic eye. The conference was held, as always, at the Five Corners Casino and Hotel. It was a legendarily bad establishment, both for its horrendous wait staff and also its viciously unfair casino. And it was a godawful hotel too. The building’s décor was divided into five sections, each based on a Wonder of the World, each designed by the rich idiot who funded the Bureau’s creation in the first place. Made by such a villain, every display was either ridiculously insensitive, incredibly stupid, or just horrendously historically inaccurate, all while remaining so dull as to not attract even a single bored vlogger. Admittedly, it was a perfect way to stay hidden.

Even so, the casino still attracted gamblers. But none of them noticed the strangely dressed supervillains wandering the halls. Not if they weren’t carrying drinks.

Up on his podium, Bank Breaker was on his fifth recitation of recent figures. Yearly takings, cost of henchmen, how to use less ammo. The word ammo caused a shudder in the room. Everyone present was evil, or at least morally dubious, so most present were acquainted with murder. And said people were mentally painting a bullseye on Bank Breaker’s forehead. You could almost hear the internal cries of “Just shoot him. Do it!”

But no one did. No one dared. There was one unbreakable rule at the Villains Bureau. If you attacked anyone on Bureau soil, anyone at all, you were also attacking the Bureau Chairperson. And that kind of challenge was not taken lightly.

Even thinking of the chairperson sent a chill down Intellitron’s spine. He couldn’t help himself and stole a glance.

Down, at the far end of the table, furthest from the lectern, was a throne made from dark grey stone and sculpted to resemble a pile of skulls, though Intellitron had his doubts about it being a sculpture. Either way, its occupant was terrifying. Dark Dragon.

Seven foot tall and clad in coal black armour, Dark Dragon reclined, listening calmly. His armour was ornate, mimicking his namesake, the helmet shaped like a dragon’s open maw, its tail stretching down the armour’s spine. The gauntlets were sharp like claws, the pauldrons and plating layered to resemble wings and scales, and the only visible features of the terror’s face were two glowing red eyes, shining out from the jaws of the helm. An eerie, crimson aura surrounded him, darkening the nearby air. Those unlucky enough to be sat next to him were shivering in their seats, trying not to make a sound.

Dark Dragon’s slit pupils shifted. Intellitron hurriedly turned to the front, determined to look like he was listening. He could almost feel the eyes burning into the back of his head. In fact, he was fairly sure he could smell his skin cooking, but he was too scared to check. Luckily, he didn’t have to bear it for long.

The doors swung open and in came the sound of jingling bells. A few people knew what was coming and pre-emptively sighed. The rest turned, saw the newcomer, and then also sighed. The only ones that didn’t were Dark Dragon, and the few trapped silent in his terrible aura.

“Greetings, all! It is I! The Trickster!” the newcomer proclaimed. His voice was high and full of frivolity, while his costume was rainbow coloured and adorned with bells. His head was topped with a droopy jester’s hat, half red, half blue, while his face was painted with comically rosy cheeks and cartoonish blue lips.

Everyone in the room sighed again.

“Trickster, if you would just sit down and be quiet,” Bank Breaker instructed like a harrowed school teacher, gesturing to a seat. Trickster did so, but every step he jingled and Bank Breaker refused to continue until he stopped. When he finally silenced the ringing, he spent five minutes greeting all the people around him, one after another, and explaining repeatedly that he was late because someone told him the meeting place had changed, but it actually hadn’t.

Intellitron grimaced at the odd jester. Everyone present despised him, mainly because he wasn’t a very good villain, but also because he was a real pain in the neck. He was worthless, only robbing party stores and joke shops, but he had a very peculiar superpower. If he played a prank, whatever the prank, it would always go off.

He happened to demonstrate this, offering a handshake to a fellow villain. The villain looked down, saw the joy buzzer in his palm, but shook his hand anyway, cursing loudly after the shock. It was interesting, in a scientific fashion… and also blasted annoying.

If Trickster placed a whoopee cushion, no one would see it until it was sat on. If he tapped you on the shoulder from the other side, you’d be physically compelled to look the wrong way, even if he was standing in front of you. And if he told you to pull his finger… well, there was a reason everyone steered clear of him.

And now, there he sat, gently bouncing in his seat like a child. Intellitron regarded it as yet another example of the Bureau’s falling standards.

Thankfully, the meeting went on from there without a hitch. There were a couple of stupid questions from Trickster, which forced Bank Breaker to repeat himself, but they’d all tuned him out by now. Later on, at the news of one joint project, two villains almost got into a fight, rising from their seats and igniting their powers. One glance from Dark Dragon sent them scurrying back to their seats. Finally, Bank Breaker wound up and reached his usual finale.

“And so, as is tradition for our hallowed organisation,” he said with all the charisma of a beige wall, “we put the matter to the vote. All in favour of maintaining our glorious chairperson, raise your hand and say ‘Aye’. If you are opposed, then say ‘Nay’. All in favour?”

Every hand in the room shot up in a unanimous chorus of Ayes. It was a formality, designed to keep them united. And it did. Everyone glanced at Dark Dragon, who nodded.

“Very well,” Dark Dragon accepted, his voice like satanic gravel. “I declare this meeting finished. Bank Breaker, please complete the formalities and everyone…”

Dark Dragon stopped. His slit pupils locked onto something. A rare look of confusion shaped his eyes. It was angry confusion, but confusion nonetheless. Every eye followed his gaze, every one of them to Trickster, who was bouncing up and down in his chair and waving his hand like a child with a question.

“Trickster?” Bank Breaker prompted him.

“I didn’t vote.”

“And why not?”

“You only asked for the Yays,” Trickster explained.

Everyone in the room paled. Those near exits moved closer. None of them could believe what he’d just said, and that was because they couldn’t countenance what he was about to say next.

“Are… are you saying you wish to vote Nay?” Bank Breaker asked, his voice rattling. It felt like treason even to ask.

“Well, yeah,” Trickster said as if it were nothing. “Look, I like DD in charge, but surely it’d be a mite more fun to let someone else have a go? And if it must be someone, why not me?”

The room didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in terror. Most were expecting a gout of dark fire and a pile of ashes where Trickster had been. No one moved.

“Trickster,” Bank Breaker began again, “It is my official responsibility to inform you, should you wish to take the post of Chairman, then you must best the current holder of the post in gladiatorial combat.”

“Yeah, I know,” Trickster nodded, his hat bells jingling.

“The current chairman is Dark Dragon,” he warned, like you would a man before he tried to eat a live tiger.

“Yeah, I know. I reckon I can take him,” Trickster smiled.

* * *

The old rules about gladiatorial combat were from the founding members, because the rich idiot could never beat either of the others in a fight. The rule was maintained because no one wanted to see a room full of villains descend into electoral debate. The amount of underhanded lying would make the entire event meaningless.

Dark Dragon marched into the arena, while Trickster jingled along behind. Everyone else funnelled into the stands, knowing they were about to watch an execution. A few even started taking bets, though it was more about how long Trickster would last, not whether he would win. Villains filed into the coliseum, some of the larger ones, like the giant robot Annihilator, having to awkwardly squeeze onto the stairs.

The coliseum, to the public at least, was the recreation of the one in Rome. But all the included romans were depicted as rude drunkards, all of whom were eating pizza, even the lions. It kept the historians away, and the pizza tasted terrible.

In the arena, Dark Dragon stood like a monolith. He glared at Trickster, but the jester didn’t even notice. He was capering around, stretching and getting ready. Bank Breaker was already up in the stands, preparing cheap funeral arrangements.

“All have gathered,” Bank Breaker finally announced, putting down his pen. “Now, I’ll keep this brief. Last man standing will become the new chairman. The other will die, or if he’s lucky, surrender. My Unholy Lord, Dark Dragon, are you prepared?”

“I am,” Dark Dragon snarled, his voice sending ice into the hearts of everyone present.

“And you, Trickster, are you ready?”

“Abso-tivo-lutely!” he exclaimed, doing a handstand.

“Alright. May the best villain win.” He nodded at Dark Dragon. “Begin.”

Trickster ran forwards, bouncing from foot to hand to foot again, cartwheeling about the ring. Dark Dragon just glared, waiting for him to get close. When Trickster finally arrived, the clown leapt and tried punching Dark Dragon in the chest. There was a metal clang and Trickster bounced backwards, gripping his sore hand. Dark Dragon stepped forwards, grabbed the jester by the scruff of his shirt, while his other gauntlet became enwreathed in flames.

Then Trickster reached up and tapped Dark Dragon on the right shoulder.

Dark Dragon clearly tried to resist, but the prankster’s strange power took hold and he turned to look. Trickster slipped free and backflipped away, hooting and laughing at his jape. Dark Dragon found nothing over his shoulder, of course, and returned his attention to his opponent, snarling like a cave of bears. Angry bears.

The demonic knight charged the little prankster, but Trickster kept cartwheeling away. Dark Dragon raised a hand, summoned a fireball, and threw it. It missed the jester’s foot by an inch, and was followed by three more that only scorched the sands. Dark Dragon was growing angrier with every moment, marching forwards like a titan on the warpath.

Trickster tried to distract him, throwing what looked to be a jar of peanut brittle. Dark Dragon crushed it in his hand, but still triggered the mechanism sending plastic spring snakes everywhere. Trickster threw down a banana peel, which Dark Dragon stepped on, but skidded forwards, accelerating towards his enemy. Trickster put on a fake nose and glasses, and for a few seconds everyone in the stands was confused where he had gone. But it didn’t really matter. Dark Dragon was going to kill anyone in that arena, whether they were Trickster or not.

As everyone suddenly saw through the disguise and realised what had happened, Trickster continued cartwheeling around, poking, prodding, and trying different jokes. They all went off, but Dark Dragon barely slowed, ripping his gauntlets through a Chinese finger trap. Finally, his pockets empty, Trickster just danced around. The monstrous knight snarled and swung, but the jester’s bouncing movements were annoyingly unpredictable. Dark Dragon was only getting angrier, his crimson aura growing like a fire. Trickster kept darting in, tapping Dark Dragon’s pauldrons, then darting behind him, forcing Dark Dragon to turn in the wrong direction. Again and again, to the point that the knight’s aura was starting to burn the sand beneath him, his rage so unyielding. It was like he was trying to swat a fly, but the fly was laughing at him. And Trickster was laughing at him. Hooting and hollering, like this was all a game and his life wasn’t about to end horrifically.

Finally, Dark Dragon struck true and grabbed Trickster by the throat. His eyes stared daggers, he was about to rip the jester’s head off, when Trickster reached up and tapped both his shoulders simultaneously.

Then something strange happened.

Dark Dragon froze. His grip loosened and Trickster fell to the ground. The demon knight’s entire body shook, frozen to the spot, his arm still raised. Metal rattled. His head especially looked like it was vibrating. Then, after a moment, a terrible sound cut the air. A creaking, groaning, ache of metal. It was interspersed with bone splitting cracks and metal pings, like bolts bursting in a submarine. As everyone watched, a crack formed along Dark Dragon’s helm. The crack grew, burning with scarlet light. It ran along the top of his head, down his spine and chest, and then stopped around the middle of his back. The creaking continued, now wailing at a fevered pitch, and joined by an unfamiliar sound. The sound was Dark Dragon screaming, as the crack began to pull itself apart.

With a final wrench, a flash of crimson light, and the screams of a thousand damned souls, Dark Dragon split down the middle to his navel, as he was compelled by Trickster’s power to look over both his shoulders at the exact same time.

What remained was a horrifying sight. His armour had been torn asunder, like a stuffed animal going through a band saw. Whatever body was inside had split too, a wretched husk, almost skeletal, but ripped from skull to sternum into two dangling halves still connected at the pelvis. His aura was gone. The eyes were dark. The body fell to its knees, lifeless.

Dark Dragon was dead.

“So, did I win?” Trickster asked, a smile plastered across his mouth.

It was at this point Mr Intellitron left.

* * *

Many villains fled the hall. It wasn’t that they were frightened of Trickster, no. It was that they had lairs to get back to, henchmen to tend, and other convenient excuses. They’d deal with any fallout at next month’s meeting, whatever that meant.

But a few stayed, curious to see how this played out, and a few others stayed because they still had business to discuss in private. Bank Breaker moved into an office, going over contracts and protocols with Trickster, a constant jingling indicating it was taking a painful amount of effort. A few of the staff retrieved Dark Dragon’s broken remains, carrying them through to another chamber, arguing what kind of funeral to give him.

As everything quieted down, two villains wandered up to one another. One was a svelte, muscular man who wore a skin-tight bodysuit with a tool belt, his face adorned with an extravagant pig mask, complete with tusks. The mask was silver and gold, concealing the upper half of his face, though what remained to be seen was handsome, with a dusky-olive skin tone, a square jaw, and a killer smile.

The other villain was a slender, elegantly-framed young woman, wearing a slinky black dress and a purple opera mask, decorated to a moon aesthetic, crescent shaped sunglass lenses and dotted with stars. Her black hair was tied up in a bun, with a half-moon pin holding it in place, as her vampire-white skin shone like she had never actually seen the sun, her feet tapping in impractical high heeled shoes.

“Eternal Eclipse,” the man greeted.

“Boar-gular,” she returned.

“So, bit of a turn up, right?”

Eclipse rolled her eyes. “I certainly didn’t expect it.”

“Do you think it’ll be for the best?”

“Hardly,” she sneered. “That fool’s going to drive this place into the ground. You just watch.”

“Oh, how much worse can he do?” Boar-gular shrugged, not particularly bothered.

“Are you saying Dark Dragon did a bad job?” She eyed him shrewdly.

He didn’t bat an eye. “Yes, I am. Because he isn’t here to scare me anymore,” he bragged. “But seriously, all DD did was sit in that throne and make scary eyes when people argued.”

“He kept order amongst a rabble of cutthroats, thieves and worse,” Eclipse argued back, without raising her voice. “What do you think this Trickster will do?”

“Maybe we’ll actually be able to have some fun here for once. Maybe a party or two?”

“This isn’t a dance club, and you know that. This is a place of business. Moreover, we have to pay to be here. There must be a… propriety to proceedings.” She raised her nose high.

“Oh, always with the propriety,” Boar-gular complained. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to let your hair down.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to put it up like this?” she snarled, then straightened a forelock. “Look, we both have a responsibility here. We both have a stake in this, and our legacies to think about, don’t we?”

Boar-gular rolled his eyes. “Just because our ancestors robbed that Golden Duke guy does not mean I have responsibilities.”

“Oh, don’t you?” Eclipse accused. “You’ve certainly been surviving off the members’ dues, haven’t you, Wilbur?”

“Hey! No real names in here, Myra,” Boar-gular snapped. “And I’ve been stealing my living. I am the Boar-gular after all. The best at what I do. I only use the dues for my tools.”

“Oh, one misspelling on the entry form and suddenly you’re a themed supervillain,” Eclipse mocked. “You really don’t back down from a bad idea, pig man.”

Boar-gular deflated slightly. “The Burglar was going to be such a cool name too. The definitive article,” he said with some regret. “Wait, what were we talking about?”

“We were talking about how we have to honour our ancestors! Silk Shadow and Wild Charge founded this order, and now it’s up to us to keep it on the straight and narrow.”

“More the crooked and cruel, right, Eclipse? We are villains after all?”

“Shut up, you pig-headed twit.”

“Seriously, what’s the worst Trickster can do?” Boar-gular shrugged.

It was at this moment that double doors opened, and Bank Breaker, as well as a dozen other members of staff, emerged wearing rainbow coloured doublets, with one playing a bugle.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” Bank Breaker announced, clearly uncomfortable with the forced show of enthusiasm. “For the Trickster’s first royal decree, he shall now be addressed as the Prank King, and shall be treated as such. His second decree is that this ‘fancy’ garb shall now be the official uniform of the Villains Bureau. His third decree is that rather than this establishment being known as The Five Corners, the casino shall now be known as, The Prank King’s Joke Hole. More decrees shall be announced on the morrow.” Bank Breaker looked down at himself like he was going to throw up.

“We have to do something about this,” Eclipse and Boar-gular agreed in unison.

* * *

Eclipse and Boar-gular hurried away before they could be forced into any doublets, as did every other sensible dues paying member in earshot. As they passed the conference hall, the long table was already being replaced with a bouncy castle covered in balloons and confetti. Meanwhile, the coliseum was being turned into a giant ball pit.

“Good lord,” Boar-gular gasped as he spied a henchmen transporting a shark, seemingly with the intent of putting it in the ball pit. “Trickster works fast.”

“The mad often do,” Eclipse growled, pulling him along.

As they rounded a bend, they bumped into two other villains, huddled in a corner for a clandestine meeting. One was The Torch, a fire themed villain with an orange and silver wrestlers outfit, complete with mask, his visible skin tanned to the point of being leather. The other villain was the gigantic Annihilator, equipped with caste iron skin, spring-jointed bestial legs, long drill-tipped arms, and a pair of spikes protruding from his back up over his head like horns. The machine cut an intimidating figure, though it was mildly weakened by his head being a little camera encased in a bulletproof globe.

“So, all I’m saying is that if you give me the codes, I can rob Bank Breaker blind,” Torch said slyly, then spotted Eternal Eclipse and Boar-gular coming down the corridor. “And that is how you make the perfect casserole,” he continued loudly.

“ERROR. FOODSTUFF IRRELEVANT. CASSEROLE GETS STUCK IN MY GEARS,” Annihilator rumbled mechanically. His camera then whirred and spotted the others. “OH! TECHNIQUE UNDERSTOOD. CLANDESTINE MODE ACTIVE. MUM’S THE WORD,” he said in his usual, loud monotone.

By the time he was done, Eclipse and Boar-gular had been standing there for several seconds. Torch looked livid.

“Look, Torch, you can rob whoever you like as long as it isn’t me,” Eclipse dismissed.

“And if you try to rob me, you’ll get the tusks,” Boar-gular said proudly, trying out a catchphrase. No one reacted and he sulked to himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Torch said whimsically.

“AFFIRMATIVE. WE HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE OF BANK BREAKER SECURITY CODES. WHAT EVEN ARE SECURITY CODES?”

“Shut up!”

“MUTING.”

“As I said, I don’t care,” Eclipse repeated. “We need to talk. What do you think of this whole Trickster situation?” she asked.

“It’s idiotic!” Torch joined the bandwagon. “That harlequin being in charge around here? It’ll be the end of us!”

“And, any ideas how to stop him?”

“Why? Do you have a plan?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No, that’s why I’m asking you!” she hissed. “You’re one of the oldest here, so any loopholes or bylaws you know of? Or, you know, could we just kill him?”

“Hell no! I’m not going near that clown!” Torch flinched back. “What if he Double Taps me like he did Dark Dragon? I quite like my head where it is, thank you very much.”

“Then legal methods it is.” She folded her arms sullenly. “Any way to have him thrown out?”

“Sorry, I’m not really a ‘rules’ kind of guy.” Torch did air quotes. “I’d suggest Bank Breaker, but he already seems to be on Trickster’s leash. As do most of the henchmen, since he started paying them in gold coins.”

“How fast does this guy work?” Boar-gular exclaimed.

“Real gold coins?” Eclipse asked.

“No. Chocolate gold coins. There’s going to be a revolution when they work it out,” Torch said, hiding a hint of dread.

“Then all the more urgent to oust him,” Eclipse reinforced. “Annihilator, you’re a computer. Do you happen to have the Bureau rulebook in your database?”

They all turned to Annihilator, whose little camera was moving in its dome. A little light which indicated speech was flashing, but he was silent.

“Oh, lands sakes,” Torch cursed. “Unmute, you great lummox!”

“UNMUTING,” Annihilator beeped. “I HAVE ASSESSED AND ANALYSED THE ENTIRE BUREAU DATABASE FOR ANY BREACHES IN CONTRACT OR ORGANISATIONAL BYLAWS.”

They all waited on tenterhooks.

“I’VE GOT NOTHING,” he shrugged, whining in his gears.

“Damnit. Then violence really is the answer,” Boar-gular concluded.

“NEGATIVE. ASSASSINATION WOULD BE IN BREACH OF CODE 143.”

“So? We’re villains!” Eclipse smirked. “We’re evil!”

“BREACH WOULD CAUSE AUTOMATIC CONTRACT TO BE PLACED AGAINST PERPETRATOR, BOUNTY OF $10 MILLION. YOU’D BE DEAD IN A WEEK.”

“And Bank Breaker would do it too, even if the death benefited him,” Torch considered. He suddenly snapped his fingers in revelation. “But not if we get a hero to do it!”

Eclipse’s eyes lit up behind her mask. “That just might work. A superhero could do it, no questions asked, put down the clown. But who do we get?”

“Justice Man’s the heaviest hitter I know,” Torch suggested.

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

“No way!” Boar-gular stopped them. Everyone turned to stare. “We cannot bring Justice Man near that clown. He just killed Dark Dragon! What if he kills Justice Man too? Then no one would ever dare disobey him ever again.”

They all envisioned the terrible image, Trickster ruling from on high. The clown leading an army of perfectly loyal villains, but using that power for frivolous nonsense, like throwing a party in the city. They all shuddered, even Annihilator.

“Then what about another hero? Who’s Trickster’s main enemy?” Eclipse wondered.

“NO IDEA.”

Boar-gular tapped his square chin. “Maybe we could track down that Cosmo Derringer guy? He sells everyone their lairs, right? He might know.”

Eclipse shook her head. “Cosmo has the same policy for heroes and villains. He doesn’t talk. Besides, he was reported missing three days ago.”

“Again?!” Torch laughed. “When will people learn.”

“It is strangely inconvenient… just in time for the conference,” Boar-gular murmured. “Maybe he’s secretly one of us? It would be the perfect alibi to attend the meeting.”

Torch laughed. “More likely some poor schmuck kidnapped him to try and interrogate him, like you were just planning to do. Happens all the time. But as she said, Cosmo never talks.”

“Don’t bother with Cosmo,” Eclipse snipped, “Torch, you know your heroes, right? You used to be one before you saw sense?”

“So many regrets. So many valuables I didn’t steal,” he mourned.

“Focus!” she yelled, a little of her powers darkening their surroundings. “Does Trickster have a superhero we can call or not!” she spelled out angrily.

Torch just raised an eyebrow, only barely discernible by the shifting of his mask.

“You think that freak has a nemesis? Eclipse, before this his main crimes were stealing party supplies, putting a whoopee cushion on a celebrity’s chair, and that one time he did the Burning Bag Prank to the President of the United States. Before now, he wasn’t important enough to have any heroes dedicated to stopping him. The cops usually apprehend him. The bloody cops!”

“Then what do we do?” Boar-gular worried.

“Maybe we can trick him into breaking the rules? Get him cast out that way?” Eclipse considered desperately. “Surely he’s broken a rule by now.”

“Eclipse, we’re a villain society,” Torch reminded. “He’d have to be good at something to break the rules.”

“Damn,” she cursed.

The conversation was interrupted, as a bugle sounded. They turned to see Bank Breaker, in his new garb, looking utterly repulsed.

“The Prank King requests your presence… God, I hate that name,” he added in a murmur, then straightened up. “Your invitation is not optional.”

“But we haven’t done anything wrong,” Torch tried to claim.

“WE WERE NEVER GOING TO ROB YOU,” Annihilator squawked. Bank Breaker only raised an eyebrow.

“The Prank King still requests your presence. Also, you were having that whole conversation under a camera.”

They all glanced up to see one positioned in the corner.

“BUGGER.”

* * *

The four of them were led back towards the conference room, where things were already quite different. A table was now covered in confetti and balloons, the bouncy castle stuffed to one side. There were piñatas all over the room alongside spring snake jars of peanut brittle, conspicuous telescopes with dark eyepieces, and dozens of chairs with whoopee cushions. And, if you looked up, Gullible had been painted on the ceiling.

However, on closer inspection, the pranks had started to take a sinister turn. The balloons were buzzing, clearly full of bees. The whoopee cushions were glowing and looked ready to explode. The telescopes were sizzling slightly with whatever ink Trickster had put around the eyepiece. Also, one of the peanut brittle cans had already opened and live snakes were wriggling out. Venomous ones.

“How fast does this guy work?” Boar-gular exclaimed, escorted in by guards, each wielding lethal joy buzzers.

At the end of the hall, where the lectern had been, now sat Dark Dragon’s throne. It was painted pink, lipstick smeared on all the skulls, and Trickster was sat in it languidly, blowing up balloon animals. These too were somehow already filled with bees.

“My lord Trickster?” Bank Breaker introduced the prisoners. He almost turned green saying it.

“Ah, my little party poopers,” Trickster laughed, hopping to his feet. There was another whoopee cushion where he’d been sitting that somehow hadn’t gone off. “You guys really want to spoil my fun, don’t you?”

“We don’t know what you mean, oh, Prank King,” Boar-gular answered first, as charming as he could be.

“Oh, little piggy. Don’t try to trick the Trickster,” the clown grinned widely. It was pretty unsettling, Trickster’s usual excitement replaced with an eerie calm. “Do I need to take you to market, little piggy?”

“No…?” Boar-gular answered meekly, retreating back into a waiting henchmen.

Trickster kept smiling. “Look, I get it. You guys don’t like the new boss. But you will!” he said, throwing up his arms excitedly. “Soon, we’ll all leave this stupid place and march out into the city. We’ll play games, pull pranks, and everyone will have a swell time. And if they don’t, then we’ll make them. Smiles for everyone, even if I have to Double Tap them to make their smile wider.” He grinned fearsomely.

“What kind of party will it be? Formal event or children’s birthday?” Torch piped up. He winked at Eclipse. She nodded.

“It will be the mother of all parties,” Trickster exclaimed. “It will have the elegance of a wedding with the intensity of a rave. And when anyone gets bored, we’ll spike the punch and put down banana peels so everyone laughs and has a good time. They’ll keep going until the sun comes up… or until their dead. Because what is the point of life without a party, hey?”

“But why are you doing all this?” Eclipse asked earnestly.

“Well, you see, this all started when…” And Trickster launched into a monologue.

Torch, Eclipse and Boar-gular sighed happily. Once you got a villain talking about their plans, nothing could stop them. This gave them some time to think and strategize.

“So, are we fighting our way out?” Eclipse asked in hushed tones.

Boar-gular looked warily at the guards. “I might be more a burglar than a fighter, but I should be able to take a few goons down. But I imagine those joy buzzers are more dangerous than they look.” He winced as one sparked. “We need to stop the clown.”

“I could always just roast him?” Torch suggested. “Only problem is, if I miss…”

“He’s fast and difficult to hit, but I can use my powers to help us escape,” Eclipse planned. “You burn him. If not, I make it dark, we run for the door. Boar-gular, you….” She stopped and thought. “We’ll find something for you to do.”

“I’ll fight our way out,” he said confidently.

“You don’t even have powers. You’re just a thief!”

“Who regularly goes toe to toe with Stealth Watcher.”

“And loses…” she sighed.

“AND ME?” Annihilator crouched into the huddle, his volume lowered.

“Just go wild. I don’t think he can Double Tap you, and if he does, then it won’t be as fatal.”

“AFFIRMATIVE. TIME TO PULL THE PLUG ON THIS PARTY.”

“Break!”

“-and that was when I discovered my love for jokes,” Trickster continued, grandly narrating to an audience of no one. He looked up just in time to see a fireball flying at his head. “HEY!” he yelled as he flipped out of the way.

“RUN!” Boar-gular bellowed, and sprinted for the door.

Around them, guards closed in. Boar-gular, in proof of his reputation, leapt forwards and up into a flying spin kick. Three henchmen dropped, taking a boot to the chins. He then backflipped away, misjudged the distance, landed hand first on an unseen banana peel, and landed in a heap beside Eclipse.

“Someone else, tag in…” he groaned, pulling himself back to his feet.

Annihilator charged for the Trickster, but three guards leapt forwards and all used their joy buzzers. The resultant shock was enough to knock out Annihilator’s entire body, leaving only his camera swivelling in its globe.

Eclipse reached deep and summoned her powers. Magical darkness surrounded them, making it impossible to see. But they all remembered where the door was and ran in that direction, more guards dropping as they got near Boar-gular, who as a thief had excellent night vision.

From his throne, Trickster shook his head. He clapped his hands. Spotlights activated and candles snapped into life, dispelling the darkness entirely.

“Clap activated candles?” Boar-gular said incredulously. One candle was beside him on a table, so he irately blew it out. Then it relit, so he blew it out again. And it relit. He couldn’t stop, as dictated by Trickster’s powers, blowing repeatedly. Worse still, the candle, on closer inspection, didn’t have a wick. It had a fuse.

“Guys? Relighting candle!” Boar-gular pleaded between puffs.

“I’ll destroy the whole wick,” Torch said, aiming a finger.

“NO, WAIT!”

Torch hit the “candle” with a spark and it exploded. Luckily, it turned out to only be a firework, and sent them all sprawling across the floor in a shower of whistles and glitter. All their ears rang. Boar-gular was sure he’d have burns, but thanked his lucky stars anyway. Dazed and half blinded, the villains lay on the floor, until a henchmen reached Torch and shocked him into unconsciousness with a buzzer.

Eclipse and Boar-gular awaited the inevitable follow-up shocks. But the henchmen didn’t move. Trickster did though.

“Aw, you two ruined my big day,” the clown said casually. “For that, I’ve got to be a meanie. Here comes the Double Tap,” he shrugged, walking towards Eclipse, wiggling his two index fingers menacingly.

Eclipse began to panic. She scrambled backwards across the floor, trying to escape, but she couldn’t. The guards were closing in to keep her there, four henchmen holding Boar-gular away from her. She began to plead, even as the chaos of Trickster’s party grew louder outside. As he reached her, he readied his fingers, the noise outside growing frantic.

Everyone paused. That wasn’t party noise. There was banging and crashing, almost like fighting. Then the doors burst open and a henchmen launched through, skidding on his face across the dance floor.

Standing in the doorway, his armour knitting back together, was Dark Dragon.

“So, you’re back?” Trickster said disinterestedly. “Get him,” he ordered his men.

No one moved. None of them were sure who was scarier. Trickster huffed.

“Have to do everything myself,” he sighed. He strode past Eclipse, who frantically scrabbled towards Boar-gular, and walked closer to Dark Dragon, fingers primed.

“Not this time,” the demonic knight growled, staring him in the eye.

With a hiss like fire, Dark Dragon’s form began to change. His armour buckled and shifted, plates slotted into each other, while new plates slid out. His arms folded into his body, his legs merged together, and his torso grew longer and longer. Within moments, rather than a knight, there was a twenty foot long metal serpent, with Dark Dragon’s crimson eyes shining from its sockets.

“Ah. A snake. No shoulders to tap,” Trickster assessed, backing away. For the first time, a hint of worry appeared on his face, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow.

Dark Dragon advanced, winding across the floor.

“Ha, ha,” Trickster laughed nervously. “You know, I don’t understand why so many people are scared of snakes. They’re utterly armless,” he joked. Someone hit a drum kit to make a rim shot, but no one laughed.

“How about this one?” Dark Dragon hissed like the sound of a furnace, his massive form bearing down on Trickster. “Knock knock?”

“Who’s there?” Trickster answered, backing against the throne.

“Adder.”

“Adder who?” They were inches apart now.

“Adder you ever get in here, you wretched bit of filth?” Dark Dragon hissed.

“That… was a terrible joke,” Trickster said simply.

“Everyone’s a critic,” the snake smiled.

Then Dark Dragon struck.

* * *

A few weeks later, Mr Intellitron was sat in a similar meeting. It had been a strange time recently. Dark Dragon had died and every villain going had rushed to claim his resources. But the next day, he was back and everyone was being commanded to give his stuff back. Not everyone had though. The brief show of weakness from Dark Dragon had put blood in the water. They’d seen god bleed, and now thought they could kill him. As such, this meeting was a little more animated than the last.

“So, Winter Lord,” Bank Breaker addressed a man in a blue parka, “I hear you recently stole a warehouse full of supplies from The Surgeon, who in turn stole them from the Apocalypto Cult. I would recommend these assets be returned to their rightful owners.”

“N-no way,” Winter Lord answered nervously. He was still challenging Dark Dragon, when all was said and done. “I earned those. He can come and get them if he wants.”

Dark Dragon glared but did nothing else. He was waiting.

“Mr Winter, I would be remiss to not remind you of our newest rules. Property stolen from fellow villains is void if the villain is dead for less than 24 hours. Dark Dragon was only dead for two, so you must return his property.”

“Well, I stole it before you instituted that rule. Prove I didn’t,” Winter Lord said proudly.

“Mr Winter,” Bank Breaker said with a chillingly condescending tone. “Anyone who breaks this new rule will be punished. And you know the punishment.” The villainous clerk donned an unaccustomed grin. “The punishment, Mr Winter, is you will be locked in our only holding cell, with currently our only prisoner. And Trickster has been working on so many new pranks that I’m sure he’d love to test on you.”

Winter Lord went as pale as snow. He turned frantically, as if expecting help from somewhere, but none came. Finally, he sat back down.

“I’ll have… I’ll have my men out by tomorrow,” he conceded.

“Very good. Now, onto other business. The costs of explosives nowadays,” Bank Breaker continued monotonously.

Across the table from Intellitron, Eternal Eclipse and Boar-gular exchanged a fist bump, then both returned to counting ceiling tiles for amusement.

#writeblr #writing #lamura dex writes!#writing community #writers on tumblr #comedy #superheroes #short story #short stories #Tales of Hero City #04 #Mr Intellitron #Dark Dragon #The Trickster #Boar-gular #Eternal Eclipse #The Torch #Annihilator

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