Chapter Text
The place was unimpressive; from the outside it looked just like a coffee
shop. From the inside, it also looked like a coffee shop, albeit one which
has been designed in such a way as to maximize the number of tables which
could be placed in dark and secluded corners.
Pay attention, now. This is not one of those incidents where we are going
to spend six paragraphs describing something and then never mention it
again.
If one word could describe the appearance of this place (henceforth; the
cafe) it would be: quaint. Also high on the list would be: cozy,
comfortable, atmospheric. Oddly enough, however, it was not a place which
was mentioned in any tour guide of the city (henceforth; the city). This
may have been because there were many other cafes in the city, or it may
have been that the last thing the regular clientele wanted was a lot of
tourists puttering about, especially if those tourists were carrying
cameras. To those who knew it existed, it was simply The Cafe, or,
alternately, Limbo (or, to certain highly preferred customers, the Middle
Ground. More on this later.)
If one did, in fact, know the nature of the cafe's regular customers, one
would be surprised to find out the nature of the cafe itself; namely, utter
mundanity. There was none of this nonsense about being larger inside than
out, and there were certainly no spells to keep outsiders from noticing it.
True, some poor clueless bastards wandered in from time to time, but they
almost always left quickly and never came back.
After all, would you want to drink coffee to the music of conspiriatorial
whispers and the occasional random bout of mad laughter? Not many people
would.
------------------
Fresh Fruit Productions
presents:
Magic Lantern Butterfly Moth 20th Century
Episode 1:
Everything Right is Wrong Again
by:
Lemon-chan the one-post wonder
Everything right is wrong again
Just like in the long long trailer
All the dishes got broken and the car kept driving
And nobody would stop to save her
Wake me when it's over, touch my face
Tell me every word has been erased
Don't you want to know the reason
why the cupboard's not appealing
Don't you get the feeling that
Everything that's right is wrong again
You're a weasel overcome with dinge
Weasel overcome but not before the damage done
The healing doesn't stop the feeling
And now the song is over now
Everything right is wrong again
Every movement false, every four is waltz again
Every five and dime's been gained and spent
Tell me that you like my float upstream
Draw the line dividing laugh and scream
You know everything that I know so I know
You've heard the voice that makes the silent noise
And now the song is over now
--They Might Be Giants
Disclaimer: Today's episode contains no angsting.
This episode is dedicated to the Random Superhero Name Generator, for
reasons which will soon become entirely too obvious.
Mina West was one of those people who would rather not have her morning
coffee among lunatics. She was ordinary enough; not the sort of person who
had a background dealing with megalomaniacs. This, however, was going to
change in a very short amount of time.
She wrung her hands nervously. She had not been aware, when she applied
for employment here, that she would be serving third string villains.
The senior waitress, Leda North, had, in fact, warned her about this.
"Some of 'em will wanna exposit, y'know? Tell you their evil plans. Don't
worry about it, just smile, nod, 'n take their order. They don't notice if
you don't pay attention, plus most of 'em are harmless." To this she had
added "If one of 'em harasses you, tries to get you to agree to be an
experimental subject, whatever, you just call me over. Don't try to deal
with 'em yourself."
"So," said the man at whose table she was currently standing, "What do you
think?"
"Is this that 'noveau art' stuff again?" she asked "'Cause I don't know
anything about that..."
"Oh, of *course*," he replied. "No one cares about the true nonconformist.
Anyone else would be content with money, power. How stale. How...
uncreative. I have a grander purpose in mind."
"Getting 5 billion people to say the word 'bollard' at the same time is a
grand purpose."
"Ignorant fool!" He shouted, pounding on the table. Mina started at his
sudden mood swing. "I must make the world understand the true beauty, the
true *genius*, of this word!"
"Um, yes. Can I, um, take your order?"
"You think me insane. Tell me," here he leaned forward, "what would *you*
do with the world if you had it?"
"Me?" she whispered. "But I don't want the world..."
The man blinked, obviously startled. "You don't? But then, why work here?"
"Because it pays. It pays a *lot*. I have to get through college, you
know." Underneath her nervousness, she began to be annoyed. It was none of
his buisness!
Understanding dawned on his face. "Oh... then you don't know what you're
getting into. Anyone who works long at this place has to have an ulterior
motive, otherwise they can't stand to stay here. If you don't have any
reason to be here other than money, I suggest you find another job."
Was this amoral lunatic telling her how to run her life? "Oh, *really*? I
hear there's an exotic carwash somewhere in town. I bet they would pay me a
great deal. No, thank you! I can handle this place just fine!"
He shrugged. "Fine. I give you no more than two weeks. Incidentally, I'd
like the triple chocolate espresso with whip cream and cinnamon sprinkles.
And make it snappy, I have to meet someone." It didn't matter anyway; she
obviously had no appreciation for the Great Word, and, in the end, she would
be his pawn. Just like everyone else.
----------------
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Cafe, another ne'er-do-well was
enjoying his coffee not at all. Which is a pity, when you think about it,
because it was some of the best around.
At any rate, in a dark and secluded corner which was virtually
indistinguishable from every other dark and secluded corner in the building,
a young man was being ranted at by another young man. One of them was
wearing a silly hat. No, we're not going to tell you which one. That might
spoil the suspense.
"...And with the proper help, I could do it, too! The machine works
because it is the product of my perfect genius! But I can't push the button
myself, oh no. It would not to for a great one such as myself to engage in
such menial work. That will be where you come in, my dear!"
"Do you," said his semi-willing victim, "actually have a Doomsday Device?
In your apartment? I'm sure that's some sort of zoning violation. You're
supposed to keep them in abandoned warehouses, you know."
Embarrassed, the loudmouth seemed to deflate a little. "Er. Well, actually,
I don't... have it. Technically." He fidgeted. "I haven't actually *built*
it yet. Menial labor, unworthiness of, and all that." He drew himself up.
"But I have got the *plans* for one. I drew 'em up myself, so I know
they're brilliant. I can call up an Agency, patent it, have them build it.
And I can always *rent* an abandoned warehouse. I've got one in mind right
now. Quiet, secluded bit. Lovely view of the industrial chemical lake." And
back into rant mode: "The *perfect* place to stage my ultimate coup. It
will be GLORIOUS! And you, my lucky little guinea pig, will be with me at
every step as I bring the world to it's knees! I will put you in charge of
my biography! You can be my Trusted Lieutenant! Then..." His eyes clouded
over with tears of joy. "Then I will rule the world with an iron fist! All
who defy me will be crushed! All who stand against me shall be utterly
destroyed! My statue will stand in every plaza, an ever-present symbol of
my power! My name will be whispered in dark corners in tones of awe and
fear! THE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD WILL BOW BEFORE ME, QUAKING WITH TERROR!
The villain called Melodymechano stood on the table, panting and trembling
with excitement, his eyes still holding a wild and maniacal gleam. On top
of his head, the hamster huddled in its cage, terrified.
Suddenly, he blinked, realizing something, and a slow, goofy grin
meterialized on his face.
"Boy." he said, happily. "Then I bet I could meet girls!"
The henchman, Rerun, looked away and sighed. He wasn't impressed, and he
wasn't happy, either. His coffee had gotten cold. It had been excellent
coffee, too.
Around them, their colleagues (and rivals) continued with their buisness
They hadn't even bothered to look up.
-------------------
Leda North moved among the tables, a tray piled high with assorted goodies
in one hand and a tray full of dirty dishes in the other. The new girl on
her shift was doing well, in fact, she had yet to run screaming from The
Cafe. If they didn't do that during the first day, it was a good bet that
they would stick around for a while.
"A while", in this case, was a matter of weeks, perhaps months. Mina's
recent antagonist, Symbolboss, had been right about that, at least.
Although you got paid an extraordinary sum of money for being a simple
waitress (especially a waitress who got to keep her clothes *on*), most
would give it up in favor of something more mundane. Leda herself was the
most senior of a staff of waitresses, and would likely not give up that
position until retirement. She had her son to support, and besides, where
else would the Boss find someone who could handle the customers?
"Oy," she said, fixing one baleful eye on a particularly mean-looking
gentleman, "No Devices inside. Leave 'em by the door. Rules."
The unfortunate villain sweated, handing over his Insti-brain (Don't Delay!
Make a Mindless Slave Today!), and wondering how she *knew*.
----------------
"Oh, and Rerun?"
"*Now* what?"
"It's not a Doomsday Device. It's an Apocalypse Machine. Get it right for
once!"
-----------------
The Cafe was always busy. There was an unusual amount of really stupid
villains in this particular city, the reason being that there were no heroes
around to keep the population down. Now, technically, this amount of
uncontrolled villainy should have taken over the city, or at least blown up
a substantial portion of it, if not for the fact that these villains were
always getting in each other's ways when it came to evil schemes. Most of
them, when you got right down to it, were just not team players at all, and
none of them could stand the thought of somebody else conquering the world
first. This caused them to stop plotting against normalcy and start
plotting against each other, most of the time. The role of the Cafe was to
give these villains a place to meet, plot, and form temporary alliances in a
safe, supporting environment.
Two of the reasons for the success of the Cafe were sitting in a back room
of this fine eating establishment. One of them spoke up
"Why do we always come here to play chess?" were her words.
"You *know*." said her opponent, "Because it's the Middle Ground. It's the
only place we dare to meet with no risk of mutual betrayal."
"No." she corrected, "That's not what I meant. Why *chess*? Why can we
not meet clandestinely to play a symbolic game of Monopoly?"
He stared, stunned. "Because it's *tradition*!" he squawked. "You...
you've GOT to play chess with your enemy, if you're going to play anything
at all."
"I don't see why you've got to be such a stickler for tradition. We could
be so much more efficient without it. Not that that would help our
situation."
"That's your problem, you know," he said, staring at the set as if
considering his next move. "You have no sense of propriety. Just look at
your Stronghold. What a disgrace! It's brightly lit, it's clean... Where
are your dungeons? Where are your narrow corridors, lit by flickering
torches? Where are your Gothic sculptures?"
The woman who went by the name of Anna Night looked at him from beneath
lowered eyelids. "I wasn't aware," she said softly, "that you had seen so
much of my Stronghold."
Mortis went pale, aware that he'd said something stupid. He glared across
the table at Anna, who smiled nastily. "ANYWAY," he forced himself to say,
"we have to play chess." he smiled smugly. "I'm making a custom set for us,
you know."
"Your point being?" Night said, nonplussed.
"It would be a shame to let it go to waste." He smiled a smile as nasty as
her own. "A nice one like that, made of black onyx and," he added, going in
for the kill, "human bone." He sat back, waiting for her reaction.
Night raised an eyebrow "Any human bone in particular?" she asked. "Or did
you make another of those trips to the cemetary?"
Mortis glared again. "There's nothing *wrong* with that," he snapped.
"Lots of evil overlords have throne room walls decorated with human bodies.
It adds to the atmosphere."
"The idea is to line the walls with vanquished enemies, not a lot of random
corpses of accountants and dentists and housewives! Besides, it's a health
hazard and it disturbs the hired help."
Mortis drew himself up. "All living things are my enemies." he said with
offended dignity.
She laughed. Mockingly. "Really. I would have accepted it if you had just
told me it was for the purposes of interior decorating. But if you have to
drag THAT nonsense out again--"
"Listen, you--"
"And I don't know who you're trying to impress. Certainly not ME... and
you're hardly going to get hold of some idiot hero in THIS city!"
"ENOUGH!" He stood up, his blonde hair swirling suspiciously in the lack of
strong air current. His eyes narrowed, and every muscle tensed, as he
looked down at her. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, and heat
up, at the same time.
Night looked up at him, no longer laughing, but not overly concerned
either. "You wouldn't. Not here." she said calmly. "Not even you. You
wouldn't *dare* to."
He stared, furious, for a moment, then left the room before he did
something which would get him killed. And wouldn't THAT ruin all of his
plans....