“Rule At My Side”

It’s always nice to check in on some characters I haven’t seen for a while, y’know, see what they’re up to with their lives. For January, a short from the “Mundementia One” universe, entitled “Rule At My Side”…

* * *

Phoebe “Feeb” Dimmesdale, prospective Master of Science, tents her fingers and peers down at would-be do-gooder Captain Intrepidity from atop her mighty throne.  It is not a particularly comfortable mighty throne, in that it is composed entirely of otherwise-functional DVD players rendered unusable due to mechanical problems with the disc tray.  She has conquered so very many of them.

“So,” she says, tapping the very tips of her aforementioned fingers together, one by one, in sequence.  “The stalwart Captain Intrepidity.  How many times do I have to kill you, Hero?”

Captain Intrepidity raises his heroically-clefted chin and gazes up at Feeb with his crystal-blue eyes.  He gives a rakish little grin and smiles, brilliant and white, and if you were to blot out the sight of the stupid-looking blue cowl-mask with a piece of cardboard for a moment you might mistake him for a walking, talking toothpaste commercial.  “Just once!” he says.  “Just like any normal man, assuming that normal man were nigh-invulnerable to physical harm, as I am!  I must say, Doctor Dimmesdale, the giant radioactive ice-gorilla was a beautiful touch.  I almost regret dropping it into the bottomless chasm surrounding your underground Bastion of Evil.”

“Thank you,” says Feeb.  “I endeavored to create a monster that was as evil as possible across four different axes, so I combined the most evil of energies, radioactivity; the most evil of classical elements, ice; the most evil of animals, gorillas; and finally, the most evil of sizes.”  Feeb leans back against her throne, inadvertently dislodging some of the tinier DVD players and causing them to clatter awkwardly to the floor.  “As you know,” she concludes, smugly, “the most evil of sizes is ‘giantness’.  Would you care for an alcoholic lemonade before I destroy you?”  Feeb gestures to a cheery-looking blue-and-white plastic cooler at the base of her mighty throne.

“Don’t mind if I do,” says Captain Intrepidity, fishing around in the cooler for a bit and eventually emerging with an ice-dampened bottle.  He takes a quick swig.  “Mm,” says the Captain.  “This is excellent.  Much like your efforts to destroy me have been, Doctor.”

“Flatterer,” she says, gesturing disdainfully.  “You should probably know that I’m not actually a certified Doctor of Science yet.  Just, y’know, sort of putting that out there.”

“A Master of Science, then,” says Captain Intrepidity.

“Eh, not quite,” says Feeb, making a little comme ci, comme ça gesture.  “Baccalaureate-level, actually.  Fact is, the sweet revenge I’ll be wreaking upon you tonight is about half for my own personal satisfaction and half in the hopes that the whole experience will help me during my qualifying exams.”  She sighs, heavily.  “I’m not going to mince words with you, Captain.  Trying to get admitted to a graduate study program in mad genius these days is a real female dog.  You can’t just cruise by on good MSAT scores anymore.  I’m not even sure I’m going to bother with the Ph.D. at this point.”

“Surely you’re both skilled and driven enough,” says Captain Intrepidity, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes, yes,” says Feeb, waving one hand dismissively.  “I am, of course, one of the most brilliant minds of my day.  Even if I don’t progress past my M.S., I’m sure I could threaten the namby-pamby back-East ivy-walled school of my choice into granting me an honorary doctorate.”  She shrugs.  “Honestly, I’m not even really sure I want to.  Wouldn’t you agree that ‘Master of Science’ is a much better title?  I find ‘Doctor’ to be so… well, pedestrian, I guess.”

“I completely understand,” says Captain Intrepidity.  “I actually probably could have gone on to ‘Brigadier General’ Intrepidity, myself.  But who wants to go around calling themselves that?”

“Exactly!” says Feeb, throwing her arms wide.  “You know, you and me are kinda alike, Captain Intrepidity.  We’re both blonde, blue-eyed, vaguely Germanic-looking people with a keen awareness that, sometimes, the world’s acclaim means that you are awarded with titles that sound worse than the title you already have and are harder to punctuate properly to boot.  We could practically be identical twins, except for my lady parts.”  Feeb leans up against one of the arms of her throne, causing the whole thing to collapse in a miniature landslide of broken electronics.

Captain Intrepidity winces.  “Are you—”

“Fine!  Just fine!” says Feeb, awkwardly righting herself and brushing a little bit of lubricating graphite off the intensely-starched white sleeve of her lab coat.  “The point is, I’d like to believe that with a few different choices in our lives, we might have been allies.”

The Captain shakes his head.  “You chose to willingly tread the path of evil.”

“Well, yes,” says Feeb.  “My whole-hearted embrace of evilness was, of course, one of the ‘different choices’ I was referring to.”  She shrugs.  “Aneeeway,” she says, “I’ve kinda got a really, really, really big laser cannon pointed square at your chest, and this time, I’ve upped the power level enough that I’m absolutely positive that it’ll be able to overcome your legendary resilientness, because I’ve tested it against the most durable substance known to mankind, to wit, the foil out of which they construct those little packets of mayonnaise you get at fast food restaurants.  So, last chance, Hero.  You can preserve your pitiful life.  Merely join me in the darkness and rule at my side.”

“Okay,” says Captain Intrepidity, taking another swig from the bottle of alcoholic lemonade.

“Oh, well, such a shame,” says Feeb, grasping at a metal control box suspended by a cable from the gantry above.  She stabs at a few brightly-colored buttons, and a wicked-looking energy weapon the approximate size of an adult pygmy rhinoceros swings into position.  “It was nice meeting you, at last, however briefly.  Say goodbye to—”

Feeb blinks.

“Wait, what?” she says.

“Okay,” repeats Captain Intrepidity.  “Ruling at your side sounds good to me.”

Feeb glances briefly to the left and right, looking for evidence of hidden animal companions (particularly monkeys), in case this is all merely some form of clever ruse.  “You’re actually going ahead with this?” she says, having found no cohort beasts, simian or otherwise.

“Sure,” says Captain Intrepidity.  “I mean, let’s look at the facts here:  (a), I’m not really interested in dying, (b), that really is a very big laser cannon you’ve got, and (c), I have no particular plan as to how to circumvent its functioning.  If that thing really can open fast food mayo packets, I’m pretty sure that you pushing the fire button there is going to mean insta-death for yours truly, and if you’re actually offering me co-rulership instead, that seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

“Well, let’s not get all grabby,” says Feeb, obviously trying to figure out where the upper hand in this discussion is so that she might re-achieve it.  “I didn’t actually offer you co-rulership.  I just offered you the opportunity to rule at my side.”

“So, sort of a vice-ruler.”

“I… suppose,” says Feeb, stroking her chin.  “I guess that sounds right.”

“You ‘guess’?” says Captain Intrepidity.  “You offered me a position in your organization that you haven’t actually defined yet?”

“I didn’t feel it was necessary!” protests Feeb.  “I mean, what kind of stupid hero actually accepts ‘rule-at-my-side’ offers?”

The Captain clucks his tongue at her, apparently unoffended by Feeb’s slight.  He sets his bottle down on top of a nearby stereo amp.  “Okay, we really are going to need a proper org chart for this new evil agency.  I can draft one if you like.  I’ll be certain to put myself in an appropriately submissive role.”

“Er, yes,” says Feeb.  “Yes, go ahead and get working on that.  Go and prepare organizational documents, minion!”

“I’ll be leaving room for growth, of course.  I mean, we’re eventually going to want more than just the two of us working on world conquest, right?”

“I… guess that sounds reasonable,” says Feeb.  “Yes.  Certainly.”

“Naturally, I’ll be handling the recruiting and payroll,” says Captain Intrepidity.  “All that H.R. stuff is a lot of boring paperwork, anyway.  And I bet you’ve got about eighteen different and better things to be doing with your time instead.”

“Well,” says Feeb, beginning to subtly warm to the possibility of having someone around to help out with all the goddamn bureaucracy of evilness, leaving her free to wander the infinite planes of mental brilliance.  “I am rather excited about this next new project of mine that I was going to get to right after eliminating you.  It involves toads and napalm, but not in the way that you’d think.”

“I’m sure it does,” says Captain I.  “Or doesn’t, as the case may be.  At any rate, that’s great, Miss Dimmesdale!  You have no idea how wonderful this is going to be!”  He claps his hands delightedly together like a schoolkid.

“Er, yes!” says Feeb, gaining confidence with every word.  “Yes!  I have managed to turn even the great Captain Intrepidity to my side!  Who now can stand against our combined might?”

“Well, what about my sidekick, Daring Boy?”

“I’m sorry,” says Feeb, “your what now?”

* * *

“So, uh, Daring Boy,” says Feeb, again from atop her makeshift throne.  “At last we… meet?”

“You monster!” snarls Daring Boy, looking up at her from floor level.  “You undo whatever vile sorcery you placed on Captain Intrepidity to turn him to the side of evil!”

“Daring Boy,” says the Captain, splayed across his own, smaller throne, constructed of exactly (1) Barcalounger recliner, placed upright.  “You needn’t worry.  My mind is intact, and is one hundred percent my own.”

Daring Boy looks up at his erstwhile mentor.  “Then… what happened to you, Captain?”

Captain Intrepidity shrugs.  “Miss Dimmesdale made me a better offer,” he says.  “Better than dying horribly via laser cannon, at least.  The offer didn’t have to be particularly good when that was the alternative, but even so, I’m actually really liking the job.  Lots of easy, mindless busy-work.  Gives me plenty of time to plan my novel.”

“You see?” crows Feeb.  “Virtue is like tissue paper before the copious sinus-infection grade snot of my evilness!”

“Huh,” says Daring Boy, relaxing his posture of righteous indignation slightly.  “You know, I wasn’t gonna talk to you about this, Captain, but I have sorta been doing a little job-shopping lately.  I’m not going to lie, the current career path is not exactly stellar in terms of benefits.  You Evil folks got a comprehensive health plan or anything?”

“Yes!” shrieks Feeb, reaching spasmodically for the hanging box that controls her laser cannon.  “It’s the Blue Cross / Blue Shield Not Getting Blasted In Your Stupid Face With A Giant Laser Point Of Service Plan!  Unfortunately for you, open enrollment has just expired!”  Feeb raises her finger, prepared to plunge it down on the fateful button.

“C’mon, my evil liege,” says Captain Intrepidity, fishing around in the cooler, now conveniently placed right next to his recliner-throne, and coming up with another bottle of alcoholic lemonade.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” says Feeb, in tones of angry petulance, whipping around to face Intrepidity.

“Shouldn’t we at least give him the chance to rule at our side?”

“I don’t even know this yahoo!” says Feeb, gesturing at Daring Boy.  “Since when do you even have a sidekick, anyway, huh?  The point of ‘rule-at-my-side’ offers is to turn your nemesis to the side of evil, not to convert some weird little kid who just happens to be wearing colors complementary to your nemesis’s!”  Feeb frowns and decides to tack another “‘s” on there just in case there hadn’t been enough.  “‘S,” she says.

“Well, he’s my sidekick, and I’m ruling at your side, and I’ve known him for a long time.  I say it still counts for dramatic purposes.”

Feeb scowls at Captain Intrepidity.  “I’m really beginning to regret offering vice-rulership to you.”

“Relax, Dread One,” says the Captain.  “I’ll take care of all the logistics.  You wanna make the offer, though, at least?”

Feeb sighs hard, her lower lip jutting out.  Her out-rushing breath scatters her bangs.

“All right, all right,” she says, leadenly.  “Daring Boy, this is your last chance.  Come and rule at my sid—”

“Sure!” says Daring Boy.

“Just let me frickin’ finish, all right?” says Feeb.  “Come and rule at my side or be obliterated by my giant laser cannon!”

“Awright!  Let me at that ruling thing!” says Daring Boy.

“Yeah,” says Feeb, darkly.  “Sure.”

* * *

“Your evil days are numbered, Miss Dimmesdale, Captain Intrepidity, and Daring Boy!” shouts the adolescent male in the candy-blue flight suit.  Flanking him are five other teenagers, similarly garbed; four are distinguished from the original speaker by, at best, a few palette-shifts in their flight suits and hairstyles.  The fifth is a girl.  Her flight suit is pink.

“Curses!” shouts Feeb.  “My old foe, Matthew Supersonic, accompanied by the Time Pilots!”

“I still don’t know exactly how you’ve enslaved Captain Intrepidity and Daring Boy, but it doesn’t matter much, because your reign of wickedness ends tonight!”  A wave of encouraging cheers erupts from the other Time Pilots behind Matt Supersonic, but it is cut short by a polite little throat-clearing from Daring Boy.

“Guys,” says Daring Boy, gesturing tipsily toward Feeb and the Captain, “If either of these two yahoos asks whether or not you want to rule at their side, dude, take them up on it.  The health club membership alone pays for it.”  Daring Boy sips at his bottle of alcoholic lemonade.

A confused murmur begins to rise amongst the Time Pilots.  Matt Supersonic frowns.  “You get health club bennies?” says Matt Supersonic.

“Well, yes,” says Feeb, wringing her hands.  “I mean, the organization continues to grow, and I got this really good package deal from River City Fitness.  Captain Intrepidity thought that it would raise morale, and—”

“Sweet!” says Matt Supersonic.  “Can I sign up?”

“Okay,” says Feeb, “this is beginning to get out of—”

“Sure,” says Captain Intrepidity.  “Matt Supersonic and the Time Pilots, this is your last chance!  Join us and rule at our side or be crushed under the realization that you turned down a really, really awesome job!”

“Sounds great to me!” says Matt Supersonic.

“Welcome,” says Captain Intrepidity, “to Team Evil.”

* * *

“Here you are!” says the tooth-gnashingly intolerable deerstalker-clad girl at the foot of the recently remodeled and much-expanded dais supporting the ever-increasing number of thrones at the head of the inner sanctum of the Bastion of Evil.  The girl holds her magnifying glass up triumphantly.  “I told my bratty little brother that I would follow the clues until I found Mindy’s missing cat, and there she is!”

“Oh, you know who this belongs to?” says Matt Supersonic, cradling the little calico kitten in his arms.  “She was wandering lost and alone, and we couldn’t find a collar, so we were going to put in calls to all the local vet clinics just in case anyone were to report a cat gone missing.”

“Well, I can save you the trouble!” says the girl detective.  “That’s definitely little Blackbeard.  I’d recognize him in a second!  Another victory for the Penny Pieces Detective Agency!”  She smiles at Matt Supersonic, beatifically.  “Can I have him back?”

“No!” shouts Feeb, rubbing her hands together in a diabolic fashion.  “You see, you minified artificial Sherlock Holmes substitute, I have plans for your friend’s precious kitten.  Nefarious plans.”

“Here you go,” says Matt Supersonic, descending from the dais and carefully handing Blackbeard over to Penny Pieces.

“Thanks, mister!” says Penny.

“Wait, hold on!” says Feeb.  “I specifically told you to hold on to that kitten!  Plans!  Nefarious plans!  Remember?”

Matt Supersonic blinks at her.  “Excuse me,” says Matt Supersonic, “but I’m not sure you actually have the authority to give me directives.”

“What!?” exclaims Feeb, exhibiting a stellar proficiency with the classic interrobang.  “But… but I’m the founder of this evil organization!”

“And we’re all very grateful,” says Hector Eldorado, the Hispanic Time Pilot.  “But I think we need to consult the org chart on this one.”

“Right here for ya,” says Captain Intrepidity, slapping an org chart transparency onto an overhead projector.  Every eye in the Sanctum of Evilness turns to the free-standing pull-down display screen onto which the overhead projector is projecting.

“I hate to say it,” says Daring Boy, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “but it looks like Matt Supersonic is in the right.  He technically outranks you, Fearful Overlord.”

Feeb stands there for a moment, vibrating impotently, and then launches herself at the controls for her laser cannon.  “Die!” she suggests to everyone else in the room, repeatedly stabbing at the fire button.  “Die, die, die!”

The laser cannon clicks a few times but does not respond any further than that.  Captain Intrepidity crosses to her position and removes the control box from her nerveless hands.  “Now, now, Miss Dimmesdale,” says Captain Intrepidity.  “Surely you remember the staff meeting where we all agreed that the giant laser cannon was much too powerful a tool to have its lone fire control hanging from a gantry where anyone could just grab onto it and use it?”

“No!” says Feeb.  “When was this?”

“I think you might have been out sick,” admits Captain Intrepidity.  “Still, we had a quorum, so we pressed forward.  Operation of the giant laser cannon now requires a three-quarters majority vote, enforced by all these little keys we’re wearing around our necks.”

“I don’t… what?” says Feeb.  “I never got a key!”

“Oh,” says Captain Intrepidity.  “I think we all got ours at the conclusion of the staff meeting, right?”

There is a noise of general consensus from Team Evil.  Captain Intrepidity turns back to Feeb.  “I guess you’re going to have to register for a replacement key at the Office of Key Replacement,” he says.  “I can get the proper forms from storage if you like.”

“Sure,” says Feeb.  “I mean… yes, underling!  I require a laser cannon key!  Set the proper paperwork in motion!”

“Sure thing, Boss,” says Captain Intrepidity.

“Hey, Penny!” says Matt Supersonic.  “While we’ve got you here, do either you or Blackbeard there have any interest in joining our evil organization and ruling at our side?”

“Sure,” says Penny Pieces, Girl Detective.  “I’m pretty sure my mom would say it was okay.  I’ll have to check with Mindy before you sign Blackbeard, though.”

“Great!” remarks Captain Intrepidity.  “Here’s your badge and your laser cannon key.”  Captain Intrepidity tosses her a little vinyl parcel.  Penny catches it in her deerstalker.  “Let us know what Mindy says about Blackbeard, okay?”

Feeb blinks at the two of them.  “But— you just— I mean—”

Captain Intrepidity shrugs.  “New employee packet,” he says.  “We’ve really streamlined the process by which new employees get their laser cannon keys, thank goodness.  Unfortunately, we’re still kind of working the kinks out of the process by which we replace a previously-issued laser cannon key, like yours.”

Feeb snarls.  “Who can I talk to to expedite things?”

“Your immediate supervisor, I guess,” says Captain Intrepidity, thoughtfully inspecting the org chart and making a few new lines on it with transparency-marker.

“Who’s that?”

Captain Intrepidity points at Penny.  “Looks like it’s her, Dread Master.”

“Hi!” says Penny.

* * *

“All right!” snarls the ferret-like police sergeant.  “Finally, it comes down to this!  I’ve worked all my life to put an end to this conspiracy of evil!  I’ve put my job on the line and alienated my partner in the process.  My wife and kids are no longer on speaking terms with me, because of my single-minded dedication to the cause of bringing you people to justice!  All my efforts, all my sacrifices, all the blood and sweat and pain I’ve put into this case file; it all ends tonight!”

“Well, yes, you could end it tonight,” says Junior Supervisor Penny Pieces.  “But I’ve got an even better idea than raw and mindless revenge: you could join us and rule at our side!”

“Penny?” gasps the police detective.  “I didn’t know you were mixed up with this crowd!  Thanks for helping me crack the case of the Missing Inca Mask, by the way!”

“It was simple!” says Penny, beaming.

“Not so simple as that!” remarks the detective.  “Who other than you would have noticed that slip-up the thief made with his alibi?  I mean, down at the station we were all ready to believe his penguin story until you pointed out that there aren’t any penguins at the North Pole!”

“Simple deduction,” says Penny.

“No it’s not!” screams Feeb.  “That’s not deduction at all!  In any sense of the word!  How did you people get a jury conviction based on penguin trivia?”

“Relax, Mighty One,” says Daring Boy, offering her a bottle.  “Have an alcoholic lemonade.”

“Oh, shut up,” says Feeb.

* * *

“You,” says the idealistic young beat officer.  “I always looked up to you, Sarge.  You were always so dedicated, so unflinching.  You never winked at corruption.  You never took bribes.  All the cops in this stinking town are dirty, but you, I thought you were the exception.  And now look at you!  You’ve thrown completely in with the forces of Evil!”

“It’s not so bad, kid,” says the Sergeant.  “Hey, wanna come rule at our side?”

The idealistic young beat officer shrugs.  “Well, when you put it that way…” he says.

“Great,” says the Sergeant.  “Here’s your laser cannon key.”

* * *

“Arf!” says Coco the Wonder Dog.

“I’m sorry, Coco, I know how this looks,” says the idealistic beat officer.  “I know when I rescued you from that kennel with the thought of bringing you into the K-9 unit that you looked up to me for doing it.  And even though all the other cops and police dogs laughed at you, I never stopped believing.  But now, here I am, shoulder-to-shoulder with Evil.”

“Arf!” says Coco the Wonder Dog.

“If there’s a silver lining to any of this, though,” says the idealistic beat officer, “it’s that you could come with me and rule at our side!”

“Arf!” says Coco the Wonder Dog, wagging his tail.

“Great,” says the idealistic beat officer, hugging Coco the Wonder Dog around his neck.  “Meet your new supervisor, Blackbeard the Kitten.”

“Arf!” says Coco.

* * *

“Coco the Wonder Dog,” says Mrs. Peachtree of class 3(a) at Library Palms Elementary School, gesturing back at the crowd of eight-year olds who have accompanied her on today’s field trip to the Bastion of Evilness.  “I think I speak for my entire class when I say that we expected much more from you.  I mean, after the inspiring story of how you were rescued from the kennel, we didn’t expect to find you here in this wretched pit of villainy!”

“Arf!” says Coco.

Mrs. Peachtree frowns.  “Hm,” she says.  “When you put it that way, today’s educational system does suck pretty bad.”  She turns to her class.  “Hey kids!” she says excitedly, “want to join with the forces of Evil and rule at the side of all these nice people?”

“Yaaay!” shouts Library Palms Elementary School class 3(a), as with one voice.

* * *

I find Feeb at the little hole-in-the-wall tavern she always gravitates to when things go south.  It’s right there next to the Bastion of Evil, right by the chasm that works really well for chucking radioactive ice-gorillas into, and not just giant ones.  She’s sitting there on a padded stool, slouched halfway over the bar and sucking down lemonades like it’s cool.

I sling myself onto the next stool.  “I’ll have what she’s having,” I say.  The good, solid, salt-of-the-earth eyepatch-clad barkeep cleans a highball glass on his apron and then fills it with pale yellow liquid from a bottle he pulls from under the bar.  I take a sip.

“Yuck,” I say, putting the glass down.  “This isn’t alcoholic.”

“I know,” sniffs Feeb.  “This time, the evil conspiracy I founded withdrew the bar’s liquor license when they discovered it was selling alcoholic lemonade to third-graders and calico kittens.”

“Sucks,” I say.  “So, let me guess, on the skids again?”

“You know it, Charles,” says Feeb.  “I’m not sure why this sort of thing keeps happening to me.  I set myself up with a really great laser cannon, I put together an evil conspiracy, and suddenly, foom!  It gets whisked out from under me!  I’ve got Captain Intrepidity up there right now turning the whole circus into a beneficent brain-trust with the sole purpose of suggesting new legislation to Congress that will increase the public good, and that’s, like, the opposite of what I wanted in five whole different ways.”

“Feeb,” I say, as gently as possible, “are you really absolutely sure you want to go through with this grad school thing?  I mean, I know you’ve had your heart set on it for a while, but… things change, y’know?  I mean, look at me.  I’m about to squeak by with a Bachelor’s in English, and as soon as I graduate I’ve got that angelic overlord gig lined up at Near Wild Heaven where I’ll be tasked with the repeated salvation of the multiverse.”

“Working for your mom,” says Feeb.

“Working for my mom, yes,” I say.  “Did I think I would end up joining the family business when I first went to college?  No.”

“Charles,” says Feeb, “due to your brain-condition, you thought your mom was a work-from-home medical transcriptionist when you first went to college.”

“Yes, and now, I know the truth,” I say.  “Either way, I didn’t expect to be doing her kind of work with an English degree.  Transcribing medical dictation or saving the world.”

“See, I bet that’s the problem.  I never should have helped you save the world back in sophomore year,” says Feeb, hauling out this old chestnut again.  “I think the universe pegged me as a hero the second that happened, and it’s been working against me ever since.”

“Chin up,” I say, giving her a light punch on the arm.  “I just wanted to check and make sure you’d thought through all the options.  If you still wanna go for it, I believe in you.  You have the power to be whatever you want to be.  You just need a little more practice.”

“Typical hero bullcrap,” says Feeb, staring into her lemonade.

“Typical inspiring hero bullcrap,” I say.  “C’mon.  Don’t pretend you aren’t at least a little inspired.”

She smiles.  It’s her tiny, shy little smirk, a real rarity; infrequent as a rainbow and equally beautiful.  It’s much better than the smile she puts on when she’s about to kill me, for instance.

“Okay,” she says.  “I’m a little inspired, yes.”

“Good,” I say.  “Now reset this motherlover, and this time, you show that smug bastard Intrepidity who’s boss.”

“I dunno, Charles,” says Feeb.  “He’s really resourceful.”

“He’s programmed to be resourceful,” I say.  “Just think!  If you can take down Intrepidity here, the actual champion of justice they set you up with for your quals will feel like a goddamn cakewalk.  I’ll be up in the observation lounge rooting for you, at least until Luke gets back with the flying waffle irons.”

“All right,” says Feeb, nodding firmly.  She hits the bugout switch.  The dive bar, the bartender, the chasm and yes, the entire Bastion of Evil all melt into the crisp, featureless white cube of the holographic simulation suite at Sycamore Station.

I excuse myself from the simulation.  Feeb takes a couple deep breaths and takes it from the top.

* * *

Phoebe “Feeb” Dimmesdale, prospective Master of Science, tents her fingers and peers down at would-be do-gooder Captain Intrepidity from atop her mighty throne.  It is not a particularly comfortable mighty throne, in that it is composed entirely of otherwise-functional DVD players rendered unusable due to mechanical problems with the disc tray.  She has conquered so very many of them.

“So,” she says, tapping the very tips of her aforementioned fingers together, one by one, in sequence.  “The stalwart Captain Intrepidity.  How many times do I have to kill you, Hero?”