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“Why am I the getaway driver anyway, I stole the Smithsonian …” And if the car rumbled with a mild growl, well that was nobody’s business...
S glared down at the table with the Smithsonian’s floorplans laid out on it. From the ceiling, a projector had overlaid not only whatever records of the buildings existed under security clearances online, but also any information gathered during initial reconnaissance, and it… wasn’t looking good. See, stealing a building was easy enough, once you got the build-up over with. Shrink-rays did most of the work, then it was just a matter of… well, picking up the literal pieces. The Smithsonian wasn’t one building though, it was several, like 17 or something. The struggle wasn’t going to be getting it, of course. Nothing was a struggle in and of itself when you were S-tier. No, the struggle was going to be doing it before The Retaliators were clued in and getting in the way.
“Okay so if I save the postal and the portrait museums for last, they’ll probably think I’m not going for them, because who would? Me. I’m a completionist, but that’s beside the point… but if the minions handle shrinking everything, I can leave them spread out, then just run between them. It’d come down to timing, but only… Okay three out of five of them could possibly match me. The Chunk needs to be hungry before he can chunk out and match my speed so maybe I can get someone to take him out for an innocent brunch… Steel Suit needs… well, his suit, so maybe I stir up trouble in the middle-east the evening before and then… yeah, perfect, he loves sleeping in, so I’ll just steal the buildings at like five am. That’s prime time for the Lieutenant though, so what if I actually fight him, like a distraction… yeah… Also, bad timing for Chunk to have eaten… Whatever, I'll gamble on it, live a little.”
Okay, so that plan was coming together. Perfect. It was down to prep work and timing, but the lair just had these really nice in-wall shelves carved out, with LED-lighting and everything, and the Smithsonian would just look so nice all on those shelves around the TV.
“Do I take the zoo too…? You know what, fuck it, I can literally just put the zoo and the mini-animals in the yard. Honestly, it’ll probably be better for them to be shrunk, since they’ll get more room, from their perspective. Cheaper to feed, too. I need to look back through the resumes, figure out if any of my minions worked at a zoo or something at any point… Or I can just kidnap the staff with the zoo… yeah that might work. I’ll unshrink them just enough for the job to be easy, then… yeah it’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.”
Alright, this was turning into a bigger project than anticipated. Now to figure out caring for the staff to mind the animals… well, they’d be mini animals…
“No, wait, I don’t need them. How hard can it be to clean a miniature animal pen? I’ll just kidnap a vet as needed, duh. Then the minions can manage the cleaning.”
It took time, as all good master plans do, but when all was said and done, it was just about finalizing the dates and making sure every task had a minion or three, just in case.
You know, choosing Washington DC had been intentional. Not just because that’s where the Smithsonian was, but because the Retaliators worked there. Imagine how delightfully surprising it was when none other than OP-Alien-Man showed up. Not only was it not his area of operation, but he was supposed to be on that stupid date. S had half a mind to actually try to kill him just for clearly bailing on D, but now wasn’t the time for that. When your villainous not-quite-roommate-who-thinks-your-lair-is-still-under-construction-even-though-it-was-done-ages-ago-to-the-extent-that-you’re-trying-to-steal-the-Smithsonian-to-decorate-it-but-you’re-hiding-that-part says they ‘think they found the one’, you give it time to crash and burn like any good friend who knows what a villain who comes from a family of heroes wants in a partner and it’s not Mr. Golden Glowing Smile from the planet Ton-Htrae.
So, you know, it was a rough fight. Or rather, it’d have been rougher if Smile-Like-The-Sun-That-Powers-Him Mr. Bright Teeth had fewer morals. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, more insulting than letting a subpar enemy actually win. S could tell he was pulling his punches. Keeping to that good old ‘don’t commit murder’ rule, as if it applied to someone like S.
Ah, there it was, a good, proper kick to the gut. Mind you, it didn’t actually hurt, but it did push the air out of your lungs like a fast car ride. S went down though, internally crying out sarcastically, “ Oh no… My ribs… They’re broken…”. Only internally. A double slap, one to each ear left blurred vision and a ringing sensation behind- Oh wait no, that was cheering. When- Yep, that was asphalt, like my-face-is-now-on-the-ground asphalt. Vaguely the sensation of wrists being pulled together and- Ah, nope. Not planning on having to break out of max again so soon.
S jerked forward, ripping their wrists from OP-Alien-Man’s grip, then turning to face him again. Would D be mad if his face got just a little messed up? Eh… probably not. Three punches later and there was maybe a bruise forming. They weren’t sworn enemies for no reason, after all. They had to be at least somewhat on even footing. What was the Lieutenant doing anyway? Not pestering the minions, or someone’s choked off scream would have crackled through the earpiece by now. Did heroes take vacations?
“What are you doing here anyway, Shiny Teeth and Me? The big orange just too boring today?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, fiend, but I’m filling in for the Lieutenant. Something about a school recital.”
“... The Frisbee hurler has kids?”
“I am absolutely not telling you that.”
“Damn, I cannot believe that Private Plate has kids.”
“I- Forget it.”
And back to trading punches. Perfect. Just enough time to get a little bit of air back. Those minions better be ready soon. It was bad enough S was going to have to lose this fight for D's sake, the Smithsonian was absolutely not getting lost too.
Another over-powered punch and S’s knees hit the pavement hard, the jolt vibrating through bone. Then, a blessed crackling noise filtered through the earpiece, just as OP-Alien-Man was getting ready to get the cuffs out again.
“Kkkssxzztt Boss, BOSS, We’re good. The buildings are all shrunk, cleared of surroundings, and ready for pickup.”
“Finally…” S said, soft enough that the hero wouldn’t pick it up.
“Well, as much fun as it always is, dancing with you, I’m afraid I have plans later, and I don’t like to leave my partners hanging, at least not the ones I care about. Savor this little win, Hero. It won’t last.” Was that a last dig specifically geared at this hero leaving their date mid-meal? Absolutely.
And then S was running. The moment of surprise was enough to leave OP-Alien-Man behind, for a moment. They were both equally fast, but when you moved that fast, seeing could be a bit hard. Thankfully, to prepare for this exact mission, S had been sprinting between the buildings for ‘exercise’ the past few days, so it was a matter of muscle memory and avoiding civilians. Not because civilians mattered or anything, speed was just of the essence.
It took maybe 80 seconds to pass by all the buildings and pick them up, careful not to let them bang into each other too much. The minions had wrapped them in a layer of bubble wrap, then added some tape to the outside, so literally, they’d all stick together for transport. The hero-tail wasn’t in the plan, but once S was moving, the Minions started getting in the way, specifically in Mr. Dentist’s-Everywhere-HATE-Him’s way.
With the added speed bumps for the hero, S was able to get away and get the Smithsonian to the ‘under construction’ lair. Mission accomplished. Sure, the fight would be a hit to the pride for a while, but hey, at least it wasn’t S’s fault that D’s date didn’t go to plan. Or well, it wasn’t supposed to be S’s fault. OP-Alien-Man should’ve just enjoyed the date.
“And here we see the real reason Heroes are given more leeway. You see here, you can see the Fear in S-Tier Villain’s Eyes…”
A growl and the remote was shattering against the beige wall of D’s living room. Fear? Fear ?! That was the takeaway? No, that was the panic that D’s date was ruined. Jesus Christ… Speak of the devil, that was the sound of the door opening. At least the TV was off. S stretched and moved to the hallway where the clank of keys could be heard hitting the dish by the door.
“So how did the date go?”