Reign of the Unfortunate

Copyright 2022 Daniel Aegan

Published by Freedom Lane Publishing

This book is not to be copied or distributed, electronically or otherwise, without the express permission of its author.

Cover and internal artwork by Daniel Aegan using copyright-free imagery & fonts.

Edited by CK Knight – cknightwrites.com

This is a work of fiction. All names, locales, businesses, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental. The Villain Detention Center and the Pristine City Anti-Villain Task Force were not consulted in the writing of this book.

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Also by Daniel Aegan:

Blood Drive

Lost Women of the Admiral Inn

Kai the Swordsman: The Imprisoned King

Excalibur Nights

Double Zero: An Anthology

The New Council: Blood Drive 2

I’m in Sci-Fi Hell

The Unholy Mother of the Demonic Child

Read more at DanielAegan.com

Follow on Twitter: @Daniel_Aegan

This book is dedicated to anyone who’s looked at a superhero and thought, Wow. What a total asshole.

***

This book is also dedicated to a righteous supervillain known to those who fear him as Mikey Blackheart. The Unfortunate Five and Cricket-Man wouldn’t exist had it not been for his exhaustive assistance way back in the early stages of this book.

A man in a long, brown trench coat entered a restaurant. By appearance alone, one might call him a villain in the simplest of terms. He could have been a businessman if it weren’t for the big, round, black goggles on his face. He wasn’t a hungry customer or someone strolling into the King’s Truffle restaurant because he had seen it featured on some nighttime television program. He wasn’t taking pictures of the fancy decorum either, ruling him out as a tourist.

He strode into the restaurant like a longtime Pristine City resident, but he didn’t seem like the type who’d talk about how proud he was of his address. He knew only a fool brags about their current place of residence, and it would be doubly so if he had bragged about how he had broken out of the Villain Detention Center seventy-two days ago.

No. Nothing fit the man who walked through The King’s Truffle quite like the term ‘villain.’ He walked past the tables, and what he was should have been obvious to those enjoying their lunches and light conversations. But they paid him no mind whatsoever. They didn’t notice him or the padding under his black shirt that was a microfiber weave of shock-resistant armor or the two chambers built into his forearms that were hidden under his trench coat sleeves that housed a pair of retractable metal tendrils. They noticed nothing out of the ordinary about this man.

The man, the villain, had been named Elias Ellsworth in his former life. Other than being a snazzy dresser and touting one of the greatest science-enriched bodies on the planet, he also claimed to have one of the greatest intellects on Earth. It was fortunate he had it, too. Even the strongest of supervillains were nothing without a cunning mind to back it up.

Villains want. It’s in their nature. The man walking through the King’s Truffle was no different. It was why he was there, walking with a distinct purpose. So much resided in his mind. Power. Revenge. Riches. He had the potential to turn the supervillain game into something more than just a long, drawn-out brainstorming session. He wanted it all, and he had the wherewithal to reach out and take it for himself.

That’s why he had named himself Dr. Everything.

The King’s Truffle was noisy, even for a place that was supposed to be pricey and sophisticated. The businesspeople were talking about their business, and the tourists who were splurging to eat there were gloating to one another about where they were. In a normal situation, one would have to shout to get someone’s attention. It was lucky for Dr. Everything that he seldom found himself in anything resembling a normal conversation.

Madame Mind called to him, but not with her voice. There’s no need to trouble one’s throat and vocal cords with her skill. Dr. Everything knew where she’d be without having to look. He pulled out the seat across from her and sat.

Good afternoon, Madame.

Madame Mind laughed. You are so polite, always using my proper villain name, even in a public setting. He didn’t address her as such to be polite. She knew the meaning of his words by plucking them from his mind.

A villain does not acknowledge another unless it is by their chosen name. It is a courtesy I’d extend to anyone from our community.

Madame Mind smiled. Hello, then, Everything. She fixed a stray strand of her straight black hair that showed its first signs of turning gray in the roots. Her skin was smooth aside from the lines that had formed from the corner of her eyes. It is unlike you to be tardy.

And it is entirely like you to be early to make me feel tardy.

Madame Mind laughed again. Touché.

The waitstaff passed them. They didn’t bother with questions or asking for drink orders but merely slowed enough to drop two menus on the side of the table and keep walking without missing a step. Dr. Everything took one and handed the other across the table.

Thank you, he said. That power of yours is quite good at getting rid of little annoyances.

Madame Mind opened one of the menus and scanned it. Think nothing of it, darling. You really think this plan of yours will work?

Of course. Dr. Everything closed his menu and put it back on the table. That pesky insect needs to be ended.

Madame Mind sneered. Cricket-Man. She put her menu down and looked into her companion’s face. That damn bug is a thorn in all our sides.

He’s Pristine City’s champion, their doer of all that is good. If one wants to take the city, they have to take him first.

Of every human mind in this damn city, the cricket’s is the only one I can’t read. I’ve brainwashed people to take him out, I’ve turned the entire police force against him, and I’ve manipulated other heroes to fight in my stead. Every single time, he gets out of it with all his limbs intact. Do you have any idea how infuriating he is?

You know I do.

Dr. Everything knew his thoughts were being read. The visions of his many defeats at the hand of Cricket-Man were being broadcasted from his mind directly across the table to his telepathic peer.

Please pardon the lapse in my composure. Madame Mind held out the menus, and a passing waiter took them from her without a word. Excellent choice, by the way. I think you’ll enjoy your meal. I’ve persuaded the chefs to get started right away.

Thank you.

I’m curious, though. What makes you think you can win against Cricket-Man this time?

This time will be different.

Madame Mind sighed. I can’t predict the future, though it has been rumored I have that ability. I can, however, predict with a certain degree of accuracy how people will act when faced with specific adversities. It’s not quite the same as telling the future with pinpoint clairvoyance, but it’s all I can do.

And how do you see me faring with my plan?

There are too many variables for me to give you an honest answer. She took a sip of water, taking a moment to think about what she’d say next. I’m retiring from this game, Everything.

I was afraid you’d say that.

I know, which is why I’m telling you straightaway. Your plan doesn’t need me after today.

So, you’ll do what I require?

Madame Mind laughed. Sweetie, it’s already happening as we sit and enjoy each other’s company.

A waiter came with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set them down, poured a hefty measure of the red liquid into each one, placed the bottle on the table, and walked away.

I’ll be sixty years old next month. Madame Mind took a sip from her wine glass. I don’t feel much like chasing down men dressed as bugs anymore. I’m outside the detention center, and that’s where I want to stay. Let’s call what I’ve set in motion for you a parting gift.

And I’m grateful for it, despite my sadness that you’ll no longer be a villain.

Oh, I’ll always be a villain. Madame Mind laughed again, taking a bigger drink this time. Just make sure there are no cracks in your plan. I’m counting on you to get my revenge on that damn Cricket-Man for me.

Consider it done.

Two plates were placed on the table. Dr. Everything had the seafood pasta in a light cream sauce, and Madame Mind had a chicken dish with mushrooms in a wine sauce.

Thank you. Dr. Everything picked up his fork. He pierced an enormous scallop and popped it into his mouth.

Think nothing of it. There was a pause in the conversation while they ate their lunches.

You said you can predict one’s actions, Dr. Everything said after swallowing. Can you predict which way Osprey will go?

Madame Mind sighed and placed her fork next to her plate. I haven’t read him since before the breakup. If you had wanted his help before then, there’s no doubt in my mind he would have done so without a second thought. He loved you, Everything.

I know he did.

I can’t say either way based on the images of the breakup your mind’s eye is projecting. He may not want to see you ever again. If he still holds any feelings for you, even platonic ones, you should be able to sway him toward your cause. No matter what, do not push him too hard.

I see.

They continued to eat for a while until Madame Mind broke the silence of their meal. Before Cricket-Man appeared, I lived a comfortable life. I had anything I wanted. Once that bug discovered who I was, he decided to stick his nose into my business. He took down my entire empire. I was exposed and miserable. The house of cards I had built around myself tumbled in a hurricane wind. He left me with nothing, and I felt like nothing for a long time.

Why are you telling me this?

You need to know that no matter what you have, no matter how much power you yield, it can all be taken away. There are no guarantees in this life. Even if you’re successful, there will always be another threat.

Do you doubt my success? You’ve read my plan from my mind, and you still speak of retirement. If you had faith in my abilities, you wouldn’t speak of going into hiding.

I never doubted myself either, my darling, but I still found myself on the wrong side of heroic justice. To be blunt: I do not doubt your abilities, but I do not doubt those of your enemy either. He’s proven too much for even the best of us.

Mr. Everything nodded. Thank you for your council, Madame. I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind.

I know you will. She smiled. Your audience awaits.

Dr. Everything noticed his lunch had been eaten and his glass of wine had been drunk. He pushed his chair back and stood.

I must be going, then. It’s been a pleasure, Madame Mind.

Indeed it has, Dr. Everything. Best of luck.

Dr. Everything gave her a single nod before turning toward the door. He walked, slipping his trench coat from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. There was no longer a need to keep his tendril casings hidden. He let them fall from their holes under his wrists. If he was going to make a stand, he was going to do it with his weapons hot.

He swung his arm, using his metallic tendril to smash the doors and the supports on either side of it. A smirk crept across his face as the cool outside air rushed at him.

***

There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. The afternoon sun shone above Pristine City, warming the street and the city’s citizens. It was the kind of day where one may decide to skip their taxi ride and walk instead. Sure, it would take a while longer to get where they wanted to go, but it was way too nice not to walk. It was one of those days where it seemed like nothing could go wrong.

Glass and mortar flew from King’s Truffle. People screamed in the street and ran from the commotion. Pristine City was a great place to live, but it wasn’t without its intrusive quirks.

Dr. Everything strode across the street as the clouds of dust settled around the rubble. He wore a triumphant smile for the public. They watched from the ground and windows, stunned like a softhearted doe on the highway.

The main branch of The Pristine Savings Bank was located across the street from King’s Truffle. Dr. Everything hadn’t chosen to meet Madame Mind at that particular restaurant due to its charm, the delectability of its seafood alfredo, or its selection of fine wines. He had chosen it for its location alone. It was in perfect range for Madam Mind’s powers to be most effective.

A bank employee in a dark suit stood outside the bank’s main doors. He was holding a sack of money in each arm. He had felt compelled out of nowhere to gather as much as possible and take it out of the bank.

Thank you. Dr. Everything took the money from the branch manager, who was more than happy to give it to him. The money in the sacks was a drop in the ocean compared to what he really wanted, but it was a start.

You’re welcome. He smiled, satisfied with the impromptu transaction.

Dr. Everything turned away and gave a silent thanks and farewell to Madame Mind, who was using the opportunity to make her disappearance. He knew her well enough to know the next part of her retirement plan. She’d leave through the back entrance, where a car would be waiting for her with a driver willing to take her anywhere she wanted. She could coerce a pilot to divert a private plane just for her. By nightfall, she could be anywhere in the world.

But Madame Mind and her disappearance weren’t what was important. What mattered now to Dr. Everything was the afternoon guest he didn’t have to invite.

A figure in black dropped down from the rooftops, landing on a streetlamp post like a dismounting gymnast. He was aided by the gliders that came from a pack on his back. He moved from his crouching position to stand tall above the crowd of people who were gasping or taking pictures and videos.

Right on time. as always.

Cricket-Man, the savior of Pristine City.

He looked like a humanoid cricket. Not a speck of flesh was showing. It was all underneath the costume and armor. His eyes were hidden behind two round lenses of goggles, tinted so you couldn’t even see his eyes. Two long antennae protruded from the top of his head.

This is a little odd for you, Everything. What’s the money for? Did you find out crime doesn’t pay? I’ve been telling you that for years.

The hero postured for his people. Cricket-Man always did that when they were around. Dr. Everything had seen a different side of him, though, one that was desperate and crawling, so close to defeat and death he could have smelled Hell’s brimstone through his black mask.

Dr. Everything dropped the money sacks on the ground. His tendrils arced with power, ready for the coming battle. The tendrils obeyed his mental command like extensions of his arms.

Come on down if you want to chat face-to-face, Cricket-Man.

Only if you’ve started using mouthwash. The last time we met, your halitosis almost finished me off for good.

Dr. Everything had an angry streak when it came to Cricket-Man’s verbal jabs. Even knowing that, he took the bait. He swung his right arm in a vertical arc. The robotic tendril extended, slapping the streetlight on which Cricket-Man was perched. But the hero leaped into the air, using his superior agility to twist and escape the follow-up attack from the second tendril. He landed on the ground with the grace of a ballet dancer.

Do we have to do this today? I don’t want to miss my root canal.

Dr. Everything lashed out again, this time sending a parked car into the air. Cricket-Man got out of the way, letting it crash to the pavement.

What’s your plot?! Cricket-Man closed the distance. He ducked a tendril and jumped over the next. It’s never just about money with you. What am I missing?!

Dr. Everything tore at the ground, sending rubble into the air around Cricket-Man. He whipped his arms, turning chunks of the street into tiny bits of shrapnel. Cricket-Man blocked his face with his arms as the bits pelted his body. The distraction worked, and a tendril hit him in the midsection, sending him through the window of the bank.

What’s my plot?! Dr. Everything used his trusty tendrils to lift him over the broken glass and concrete, lowering himself near his injured foe. Today, I make my stand against you, Cricket-Man. I grow tired of these games.

Cricket-Man stood, shaking the dust from his arms. The alarms blared, and fluorescent lights flickered on the ceiling.

Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you just say so? He let loose one of his sonic chirps from the emitters built into his gloves.

Dr. Everything dodged. He had been ready for it. His left tendril lifted him into the air, and the right one plunged into the ceiling to lift him above the invisible blast. Whatever glass hadn’t been shattered already flew into the street.

There was silence as Dr. Everything landed. He was ready for his next outward attack, but Cricket-Man was gone. Fighting in close quarters like this wasn’t the bug’s forte. He always tried to keep his fights outdoors so he could use his agility to his advantage. Dr. Everything was well-versed in this game. In these situations, however, the sneaky insect resorted to other methods in his repertoire.

A scuttling triggered Dr. Everything’s reflexes, and he smashed through a desk. He wasn’t surprised to find that Cricket-Man wasn’t there, though he was still annoyed by it. There was another sound and another smash. Again, the black-clad superhero was nowhere to be seen.

IRRITATING INSECT! SHOW YOURSELF!

Cricket-Man was using his sonic chirps to throw sound around the bank. He was the human embodiment of a cricket, after all. The alarm from the emergency exits helped the trick of sound and space. The damn bug caught a lucky break and was taking full advantage of it.

Dr. Everything swung his arms around, twisting his body like a cyclone, sending everything not bolted to the ground or walls into the air. He screamed in frustration, even though this fight was all part of his master plan. A part of him wanted to squash the cricket now and be done with it without having to enact the rest of his plan, genius as it was.

The random destruction worked. Cricket-Man had been hiding behind one of the desks. Dr. Everything spotted him and whipped his left hand, wrapping the metal tendril around the hero’s throat. He sent electricity through it, jolting Crick-Man. His legs twitched as the tendril lifted him off the ground.

I shall end you here and now, Dr. Everything seethed. I have suffered you far too long. It’s time you were squashed like the insect you are.

The tendril tightened its grip, and Cricket-Man raked at the metal with his fingertips. His super cricket strength didn’t matter if he couldn’t get his fingers under the tendril choking him to death. Dr. Everything grinned as he watched his work. He was going to do it. He was going to kill the damn cricket, and he wasn’t even going to need any help whatsoever.

He lowered Cricket-Man to the ground and used the other tendril to speed up the strangulation, and his smile widened. He had earned this moment. This was his time. He deserved to have his enemy lying dead at his feet.

Cricket-Man’s arms dropped to his sides, but Dr. Everything didn’t let up. He wanted to see the face of the man under the mask as he died. He wanted to see the light in his foe’s eyes extinguish when his soul left his body.

Dr. Everything reached forward with a greedy right hand, gripping Cricket-Man’s goggles with his fingers. He pulled them upward, feeling them come loose from the black mask.

Cricket-Man brought his hands together, slamming Dr. Everything with a double sonic chirp at point-blank range. The sheer force of the blast lifted the villain off the ground, sending him at least fifty feet. His tendrils came loose, and Cricket-Man was free from their death-grip.

It’s not over! Dr. Everything used his tendrils to fling himself forward in a flash. His body ached from the blast, but the armor he donned under his clothes was able to take most of the impact. Cricket-Man was still hurt, fighting to get air back into his lungs. He was reeling and vulnerable.

But he hadn’t been beaten.

Cricket-Man dove to the side, and Dr. Everything couldn’t change his direction thanks to the momentum of his attack. He hit the hard floor again, doing his best to roll out of it. He fired a tendril around a column, using it to right himself. His feet were back under him, but it was too late. The flash of light and the darkness that followed told him that his enemy had gotten the final blow.

This was all part of the plan, he reminded himself, drifting deep into unconsciousness.

Everything had all started ten years ago. It wasn’t a grand scheme or a master plan that had gotten the ball rolling on the man who would become the diabolical supervillain genius known as Dr. Everything. It was an idea. But ideas refuse to manifest into their destined greatness without the strictest of dedication, a dutiful devotion to one’s chosen craft, and a large amount of continual sacrifice.

So, you want to replace your arms with robot arms?

No. Elias sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. First of all, they aren’t robot arms. For all intents and purposes, they’re my arms. I’ve grown them from my DNA. The implants inside aren’t robotics either.

What are they, Professor Ellsworth? Zack reminded Elias of his younger self, except Zack’s hair was long and tied on the top of his head with what they were calling a ‘man bun.’ Elias felt it looked ridiculous, but he still admired the boy’s young and fertile brain.

They’re tendrils, Elias replied, and they’ll be connected to my central nervous system. I’ll be able to control them with my mind like I was born with them. They’ll be new appendages. I can’t install them myself, though. I want you to lead the team of medical interns I’ve handpicked.

Zack turned to his professor and mentor. Me?

Elias smiled and put his hand on Zack’s shoulder. I trust you completely.

Is the university cool with that?

No one makes progress without risk. Elias’s smile faded, and he took his hand off Zack’s shoulder. If we waited for approval, we’d never accomplish something great. We’re going to help a lot of people with this technology. Can you help me, son?

I can.

Weeks passed as the experiment was prepared. Elias and Zack worked with little rest while other students and interns assisted. They were careful about discussing details when they weren’t alone, and the day for the experiment came at long last.

Elias was put under with the help of a heavy dose of anesthesia. He watched Zack’s face as the drugs took him deep down into the darkness within his mind. The lad wore a mask of nervousness, but Elias trusted him to do the task at hand. He knew as deep sleep took him that his trusted protégé wouldn’t fail him.

The screeching of the device woke Elias from his anesthesia-induced sleep. The doctors were running around in a panic. Something had gone wrong. He moved to sit up, but his body was still numb and heavy.

What’s happened to me?

It was the procedure. Zack backed away with the syringe clutched in his hands. I can’t tell right now. I’m so sorry, Professor. I don’t know what -

A metal tendril shot from its casing, wrapping around Zack’s throat. What did you do to me?!

Zack couldn’t speak. He clawed at the metal around his neck, but flesh and bone fingers were no match for the metallic noose. His pupils rolled upward, and he suffocated. The tendril loosened, dropping the intern on the floor and retracting back into its housing.

Elias looked at the palms of his hands. There were large metal holes where the wrists ended. They were part of him now.

He flexed his fingers. He could feel everything. The operation had been a success, despite the droning of the monitors and the panicked shouts of the medical interns.

WILL SOMEONE SHUT OFF THOSE INFERNAL MACHINES?

***

Name?

Dr. Everything.

No. I need your real name.

"That is my real name."

This was a process with which Dr. Everything was all too familiar, check-in at the Villain Detention Center, which the employees and denizens called the VDC for short. There was a special process for villains apprehended by Cricket-Man. There was no trial nor pleading one’s case.

I won’t be here long in any case, Dr. Everything continued. How many life sentences have sent me back here and how many of those resulted in me breathing the free air the moment I felt I wanted it?

I don’t get paid enough to deal with your bullshit. The guard’s name was Koontz according to the patch above his right chest pocket. Professor Elias Ellsworth. He read the name from an open manilla file. He chewed his gum loudly between his words. That’s you, right?

"That was me. You know my real name, though. Say it."

Koontz sighed and tossed the file, letting it slide to the other end of the long table. The place had been set up like an interrogation room, only there was no integration happening.

"If it were up to me, I’d execute every last one of you costumed motherfuckers. But we’re supposed to have mercy and live and let live. Your crowd makes me sick."

Dr. Everything let out a dry laugh. "In another life, you’d fit in perfectly with my crowd. Then again, you never know when your calling will arrive. I never thought I’d be what I am until the moment had passed."

I don’t need your fucking origin story. Koontz pushed his chair out and got to his feet. Things have changed in the short time since you were last here, Ellsworth. If you try to use those metal things in your arms, you’ll be shocked till you piss yourself. If you start any trouble, you’ll get the same.

Dr. Everything looked at his wrists, where his orange jumpsuit’s sleeves ended. They’d put metal plugs into his tendril casings so he couldn’t use them.

Is there anything else?

Yes. Don’t you dare fucking test me.

Dr. Everything sat back in his chair, looking over Koontz. Your overuse of profanity shows your lack of intellect.

Koontz turned his head and spit his gum on the floor.

The action was vulgar, and Dr. Everything turned his head away from it. To each their own, I suppose.

Welcome home. Koontz grabbed the file at the edge of the table and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

Zack’s body was barely cool, but Elias had to pull himself together from the panic attack that was threatening to derail his mind. The operation had been a success, but something had triggered the medical alarms. Zack had been standing over him with the adrenaline shot. Elias felt his chest and found the puncture wound. It had been injected straight into his heart.

His heart had stopped. That was it. But why were the doctors still running in terror?

Elias turned his arm and looked at the end of the casing. The tendril came out when he thought the command. It was just like moving an appendage. It was perfect.

Except, of course, the corpse on the floor of the operating room. Zack. The sudden shock of being brought back from the brink of death triggered a reaction in him. His new arm had lashed out. The tendrils were part of him now, for better or worse. He, Elias Ellsworth, was the experiment, and it had been a failure after all.

No one was supposed to die.

He imagined explaining his unlicensed experiment to the Dean. He’d be dragged off the campus in handcuffs for sure. Then he imagined explaining what had happened to Zack to his parents. How could they understand that their son died trying to build something that was meant to help so many people?

All I’ve built is doomed. Elias had two choices: surrender or fight like the villain they’d make him out to be anyway.

Elias steeled his nerve and took a breath. He got dressed, not taking much time to marvel at how well the new synthetic arms worked like his original ones. They were part of him now. It was a testament to his genius. His only regret was what he had done to poor Zack.

He had loved him, and not in the way a mentor loves his protégé or a professor loves his favorite student. It was something Elias had planned on discussing with Zack a hundred times, but he hadn’t been steady enough to cross that line. Now, though, it was too late for such romantic ideas.

Elias looked down at Zack’s pale body on the floor of the operating room. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. He knelt next to him, touching his cold face. A tear fell from his eye and landed on his protégé’s forehead. If you take any solace in whatever afterlife you’ve earned, know that I plan on moving forward. I will do everything we sought to accomplish. He stood again. Everything.

Campus security entered, and they found him there, standing next to Zack’s body. What happened? the one in the lead asked. His hand rested on the butt of his nightstick.

Elias didn’t answer.

Step away from the body. The security guard’s voice was calm, but he had drawn his nightstick.

Elias turned, and he only had to issue a thought. The tendrils lashed out once more, tossing the security guards like ragdolls. He walked off campus that day a criminal.

That was a long time ago. It didn’t take long for the police and other interesting parties to begin the hunt. Elias had changed his name to something that suited him better, and he went underground.

What’s your cost?

The question was posed by Fernando, a top drug dealer operating just outside Pristine City. He was a brute of a man, muscle hidden under a thick layer of fat. He was hosting the meeting in one of his clubs while it was closed during the day. Not even a sliver of sunlight penetrated the black-painted windows.

My costs are high. Saving humanity isn’t a cheap ambition. Not when it's against their will.

Fernando sighed. I don’t know about all that. I heard you got some nice hardware in those arms of yours. How do I go about getting some of that for my boys on the street? There are too many superheroes out there, my man, and my boys can’t compete with that kind of muscle.

Is it too late to do what I wanted with my life? Dr. Everything asked. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling instead of at his host. People are desperate for my knowledge, but they’ve pushed me to this level with their resistance toward me. No, Fernando, I will not give bionic limbs to any of your thugs or dealers.

No? What the hell?! How am I supposed to fight this Cricket-Man character?

Dr. Everything looked back into Fernando’s face. It would be much too immoral to grant what he had asked, but he had another way in mind.

What would you pay if I eliminated this Cricket-Man for you?

What? Fernando’s face twisted. Man, I ain’t tryin’ to put your ass on my payroll.

Dr. Everything stood. He let his tendrils slide from their housings. Fernando sensed an attack, so he backed up, knocking his chair over in the process.

C’mon, dude! I ain’t lookin’ for no fight!

No one wants me as a savior. Dr. Everything threw the table to the side, stepping closer to Fernando. "Should my skills be doomed to rot? I can be my own savior. Those