Villains Inc Contest by Madam Marvelous ID#26130

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Villains Inc Contest by Madam Marvelous ID#26130

Madam Marvelous
This post was updated on .
Villains Inc. Crime Hotline

“Hey, Nemesis!” Catalyst shouted out over the Villains Inc. HQ intercom. “Get down here. It’s time for your shift.”

Nemesis stepped into the small office room with a headset on, a monstrously large cup of steaming coffee in hand, and a characteristic sleepy disposition. “Who came up with this stupid idea?”

“We all did. You must have been off doing some ninja stuff or something,” Catalyst said, lying through his teeth. He came up with the idea all on his own. The ideal next step in his plan to control the world. He stood up from the computer desk and held the leather chair open for Nemesis to take. “It’s only a three-hour shift, and trust me, you’ll have fun. Or at least I’m sure you’ll make it fun.”

Nemesis took a long sip of his dark roast before setting the cup down on the desktop. A red light started to flash on the black phone resting next to the keyboard.

“There you go. Do us proud,” Catalyst said as Nemesis took the seat and swiveled into position before the computer screens. Catalyst moved to the doorway but listened for the opening line before departing the room.

Nemesis punched a button to connect his headphones to the system, leaned back in the chair, and cleared his throat once before answering the call. “Villains Inc. Please state the nature of your crime emergency.”

“Hey, ya, Villains Inc. I’ve got me a situation here. I’m running some guns down here at the docks, ya see, and I think the local cops are on to me. I think I’m being tailed.”

“May I have your name and current location, please,” Nemesis said.

“I’m at the docks, ya moron. I jus’ told you dat.” 

“Listen here, a-hole. You called us. Now, if you don’t answer each of my questions without your current attitude, I’m going to disconnect you. Name and location?” Nemesis placed his finger above the disconnect button.

“The Stygian. I’m on the east-side docks at Wicked Bait and Tackle.” 

“That’s better. We’re very familiar with that district.” Nemesis clicked at the computer keyboard and new information flooded the screen. “There are multiple patrols ongoing in your area right now. I’ve gotten into the police’s dispatch log and there currently haven’t been any units sent to your location. We do have associates in the area who can help you relocate yourself and your cargo if you would care for assistance.”

“Dat’ would be great. T’anks a lot.”

“You’re quite welcome. Our affiliates will be with you shortly to assist you with your crime.” Nemesis tapped at the number pad of his keyboard. “They will also collect twenty-five percent of your cargo as payment for our assistance. Have a pleasant day.”

“Hey, I never said I was going—”

The line went dead as Nemesis disconnected the call. The Stygian had an easy decision to make. Either give up a quarter of his illegal arms to Villains Inc. or get turned in and lose all the loot.


CrossBones took his turn at the control hub after Nemesis’s shift ended. He wore only a pair of boxers with a series of large holes in the fabric and his fuzzy duck slippers. “Villains Inc. Please state the nature of your crime emergency.”

“Is this the emergency crime 6-6-6 number I saw in the bathroom stall at Farm to Table?” A man asked.

“I don’t know where you saw the number at sir, but yes, we are here to help you commit crimes of all natures. What can I do for you today?” CrossBones said as he leaned back and put his feet up on the edge of the desk.

“I need help disposing of… of… of an animal carcass.” The voice responded.

“Sir, I’m not here to judge you for what you may or may not have done. Clear, precise information is needed if I’m going to be able to provide you with the best service in your time of need.”

“Umm. OK. I killed my boss.”

“We’ve all been there, sir. Have you verified that your boss is currently deceased?”

A few moments of footsteps skulking about played over the speakers in the office. “Yes. I’m pretty sure he is dead.”

“Pretty sure?”

“His head is in his lap.”

“So, he’s slumped over?” CrossBones rolled his eyes, frustrated by the caller’s inability to know if a person was dead or not.

“No, his head is sitting on his lap. It came off.”

CrossBones smirked. Maybe his caller wasn’t a complete loser. “Where are you at currently?”

“Farm to Table. The boss and I were the last two in the building.”

“And you want to get rid of his body?” CrossBones hacked into the Farm to Table's security system and watched the replay of the boss’s demise. What the guy lacked in smarts, he made up in with gusto. It took a lot to sever a head with a rocker knife.

“Yes. Can you help me?”

“Sure, but our help isn’t free. See that deposit bag sitting on the office desk. Put it in the book drop-off slot at the public library on 2nd Avenue when you leave the building. Don’t think about running off with the cash, either. I’ve downloaded the security footage of your activity there tonight. I’ll have no problem anonymously sending it to the authorities if you don’t follow my instructions.”

“OK. OK. Just help me out of this. I found out he used my phone to message my little sister. He was trying to impersonate me and trick her into meeting him at the local park tomorrow. I should cut his—”

“Yes, we’ll get to that. Do you have a meat grinder in the back-of-house? I think you can solve this problem all by yourself.” CrossBones typed a note into the Villains Inc. logbook. DO NOT EAT AT THE DOWNTOWN FARM TO TABLE RESTAURANT. “I’ve deleted the security recordings on site and replaced them with images of the two from a couple of nights ago. I’ve also arranged for his car to be taken to a local chop shop, so it will look like he left work just like every other night.”

“OH. OK. I think I’ve got your meaning. Thanks, Horseman.”

“HORSEMAN?! This is Villains Inc., not the Horsemen.” CrossBones shouted.

“Oh, your number was 6-6-6. I thought that was the Horsemen’s number.” The voice said apologetically.

“We’re Villains Inc. VI. The Greek number 6. Damn marketing department. ” CrossBones slammed his palm down on the disconnect button, then sent a message to Catalyst.



Later that day, Chromatic Death took his turn monitoring the calls into the Villains Inc switchboard. He had his axe(guitar) set up against the wall as he played Minefield on the computer screen. The phone range, jarring him out of his bored state.

“Yeah, this is Villains Inc. What’s up, doc?”

“You said this was Villains Inc., right? I have a problem for you” A raspy voice said quietly.

“This isn’t Papa John’s bud. What’s going on already?”

“I’ve got this problem. It’s a big one, man. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.”

Chromatic Death leaned in. In the background, he thought he could hear additional voices whispering to the first person. “Are you alone, bud? You need to tell me what’s going on if you want some assistance.”

We... we kidnapped Director Nova. <snickers of laughter in the background> We’ve got him tied up and are getting ready to sell him off to the highest bidder. You want in on the action? One million Bux and we’ll let you have him. <more giggling>”

“Why would we be interested in anyone kidnapping Nova?” Chromatic Death didn’t understand. Villains Inc. didn’t care what happened to that do-gooder. He ran a trace on the incoming message. “Aw, f-you Black Order sons of bitches—”

Open laughter broke out on the other end of the line. Skelanimal, the Wizard, and Hot Wings could all easily be identified. Midgardsormr got on the line. YOU PATHETIC GNATSSS—I WILL DANCE ON YOUR ENTRAILSSS ASSS YOU BOW BEFORE ME ON THE LASSST DAY OF THIS SSSMALL WORLD ASSS I DEVOUR IT.

See Midgardsormr. This is why we didn’t want you in the room with us when we did this. You always go there—” Hot Wings said.

Chromatic Death grabbed his axe and strummed the most offensive and sour note he learned how to create. The infamous Brown Note.

“Oh no, hang up the line, hang up the line…” The phone went silent, but not before several large squelchy noise and painful groans crept over the line.

"That'll teach them!" Chromatic Death said as he blocked the WMD Black Order phones from the phone system.


After Catalyst returned for his next round manning the Villains Inc hotline phones, he read through the messages left by earlier shifts. Some good, some not so good, but so far, the roll out of the new program had gone fairly well. Better that expected, actually. He didn’t think any of his league mates would participate short of him getting out a cattle prod and driving them into the chair. He toiled at some annoying paperwork while waiting for a call, his head drooping frequently as he fought back sleep.

Around 1AM, the phone finally rang, jarring Catalyst back to consciousness. Hours in the mayor’s office didn’t make running VI any easier, especially when he wanted to implement some new programs. He yawned and picked up the call. “Villains Inc. What is the nature of your criminal emergency?

“We need a distraction at the New Amsterdam Diamond Exchange. We got into the vault here and emptied it, but some idiot guard managed to hit the silent alarm and the cops are outside getting ready to bust in.”

“You got into their vault. Not bad. That’s an advanced safe to crack. How may in your crew?”

“Three of us."

Catalyst brought up a financial plan and searched the columns until he found a particular entry in the quarterly budget. “Just three. This should be fairly easy. What was your prior planned out?”

“We have a driver waiting around the corner. We are supposed to message him when we get to leave the building through the back door.”

“Just hold tight. We have someone on the way,” Catalyst said as he sent a message to Darkvenge.


“Hello? Hello? How long until you have someone here,” the voice said.

“Not long at all sir. Not long at all.”

Catalyst put his arms behind his head and leaned back smiling. Next quarter’s budget was about to get a huge influx of capital.
Madam Marvelous ID#26130