> Undesireables... Chapter 1.
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> Rain fell on the parched city... a rain that sent all scurrying for shelter. All save one, who stalked alone the concrete canyons, heedless of the torrential downpour...
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> ...because it did not touch him!
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> "Hey!" Visionary proclaimed, obviously impressed. "This is pretty swanky!"
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> "The latest in personal force fields," Count McFrugal (the 'Discount Count') confirmed from the shelter of a nearby awning. "A case fell off the back of a truck bound for HERPES supreme headquarters this morning. You can adjust it to filter out all materials larger than 2 microns. Impervious up to class 20 energy assaults, and repels a force of 10 tons per square inch. The belt is made of fine Corinthian vinyl, and comes in brown, black or white." The Count took a slow drag off of his cigarette. "The white looks good on you. Really."
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> "How much?"
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> "80 grand."
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> Visionary winced. "I dunno... that seems a little steep..."
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> "Are you kidding?" The arms merchant frowned. "A tank could run over you and you'd hardly even feel it."
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> "Yeah, but honestly... how likely is something like that happening again?" Visionary countered.
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> "Okay, okay... since you're one of my oldest customers and--dare I say--personal friends, I suppose I could let it go for... 65."
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> "Well, see... I'm kinda in-between funds right now..." Visionary said. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to run me a tab? Especially considering the mecha-assaultbot incident?"
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> "Look, I told you... all merchandise sold 'as is'. Who knew Transformers could even have faulty sex drives?" He stomped out his cigarette on the wet pavement. "I'm sorry about what it did to your car, but that's really a matter for your insurance company and a good body shop."
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> Visionary sighed as he removed the force-belt. "Well, all I have right now is about 57 hundred. What can that get me?"
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> The Count sighed. "All right, all right... If it was anybody else, I wouldn't deal with this nickel and dime crap..." He pulled out a cell phone and pressed the speed dial button. "Yeah, Larry... we still have that crate in back? You know... the one dropped off by that mad cow woman's people? Great... have it brought around to the loading dock." He flipped the cover closed on his phone. "You're in luck, I got the last of a special shipment on hand for you... Tell me, how do you feel about genetically engineered weapons of mass destruction?"
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> Visionary blinked. "You mean, like... biological warfare? Anthrax and such? I dunno... I mean, I don't even like shaking hands with people in my doctor's waiting room. I'm not sure I'd be comfortable handling deadly germs..."
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> "No no no... nothing like that," McFrugal assured him. "We're talking about a higher lifeform... a genetically engineered killing machine. Completely loyal to it's owner, completely lethal to your enemies."
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> "Well, that sounds pretty good... How much is it?"
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> The Discount Count smiled.
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> "Ooooh! This is soooo exciting!" Ms. Pfeffercorn cooed from the driver's seat of the Pinto of Doom as they drove down the rain-soaked city streets. "What do you suppose it is?"
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> "Hmmmm?" Visionary answered from the back seat. "Oh, well... according to the owners manual they gave me at the warehouse--please take a left here, Ms. Pfeffercorn... can't risk being followed--yes, according to the manual it's the latest in extra-eugenic engineering. Splicing animal and human DNA together to make the perfect soldier. That kind of thing."
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> "I hope it's a big, strapping, fuzzy cat-man!" the giddy driver replied.
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> "Er... yes, well... I don't know... the crate wasn't really all that big. Not that I'm complaining... we're lucky it fit in the trunk."
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> "Ooooh! Wait until I tell the gang at the alt.furry newsgroup! You know, I'm the third most popular non-bondage romance writer there!"
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> "Um... yes," Visionary replied hesitantly "Congrats on that... Ah, you know, I really feel it's my duty as your employer to point out that, according to the rules of Henchmen Union Local 415, you're entitled to keep significant details of your personal life to yourself."
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> Not for the first time, Visionary noted that there was likely a reason that Ms. Pfeffercorn wasn't accepted as an apprentice by any of the other super-villains of Parodiopolis. As henchmen go, a 29 year old ex-pediatric nurse certainly isn't the norm. Nor was she particularly imposing, what with her slightly petite physique, round wire rim glasses and hair up in a messy bun, save the errant strands that hung down around her constantly smiling face. Still, villainy is a lonely business, so any company was welcome... and she was more than willing for work for the meager benefits and experience Visionary was offering. Good help may be hard to find, but sometimes cheap help was preferable anyway.
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> "Taser rods?" Visionary asked, reading off the clipboard.
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> "Check" Ms. Pfeffercorn answered.
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> "Industrial strength Kevlar netting?"
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> "Check."
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> "Loaded Tranq gun?"
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> "Check."
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> "Ready bowl of 'Iam's Mutant Chow, chicken and rice formula'?"
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> "Check. And that cute rubber ball with the bell inside that you bought."
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> "Excellent!" Visionary decided. "Well, hand me the crowbar and let's crack this puppy open! You know what to do if something goes wrong."
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> They stood in the laundry room of Visionary's sub-level apartment/secret base with the heavy wooden crate between them. It had taken a bit of work to get it down the stairs, not to mention through the door, but that seemed like a safer course of action than opening it out on the street. (This neighborhood had very strict leash laws). So far, there hadn't been much movement or noise from the creature inside the box, but one could never be too sure about mutant killing machines. Visionary did take it as a sign of life when a rather pungent smell was released into the laundry room and Ms. Pfeffercorn eyed him suspiciously but opted not to accuse him.
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> With a mixture of fear and excitement Visionary prepared to open the side of the box while his henchwoman tried to hold the various restraining devices at the ready. According to the owner's manual, the creature was programmed to imprint on and obey the first person it saw as it left its crate... provided, of course, that the first person it saw managed to yell in a deep, forceful voice: "HALT BEAST! YOUR MASTER COMMANDS YOU!". Unfortunately, this meant that Visionary had to resist his most likely natural urge--to scream like a little girl and run when the beast was let lose upon them.
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> Gritting his teeth to steel his nerves, Visionary set the crowbar and pried, dropping the side of the crate with a loud, resounding 'thunk'. As it happened, nothing more was let loose upon them than a cloud of dust and hay. "HAAAAALTCHOOOOOOOOOOO!" The beast's would-be master commanded forcefully, then again and again in rapid-fire order as he blinked back tears.
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> Ms. Pfeffercorn, sensing that something had gone fairly wrong and that they were about to die hideous bloody deaths, lunged forward with her taser rod and threw the Kevlar netting all in one fluid motion. Her reaction was so quick that, had the beast been in mid lunge intent on gutting its hay fever wracked master, it would have instantly been snared and shocked into submission.
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> Unfortunately, the beast was not involved in any such murderous lunge. Still, her efforts were just as effective on Visionary as he went down in a tangled, twitching heap. "Sorry! Sorry!" the ex-teacher's assistant called apologetically, jerking back the taser as her boss thrashed like a sea-bass in the bottom of a rowboat. (A violently sneezing sea-bass, that is.) "Entirely my fault!"
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> "GAH!" Visionary agreed as he struggled to control both his spastic nervous system and his inflamed nasal cavities. Finally he was able to stop twitching and sneezing long enough to look confusedly past the settling sawdust and hay into the crate, laying eyes upon the fearsome mutant killing machine that he had bought.
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> It was pink, round, and snoring softly with its back to them. After again invoking the imprint command to no visible effect, and his repeated calls of "Hey, you... in the crate..." went unheeded, a crude form of preliminary communication was achieved via a few pokes with a convenient yardstick. This opening salvo in the master/monster relationship was sufficient to get it to roll over and wearily open one eye long enough to glance at them. It wasn't until Visionary resorted to the promise of a pot of strong black coffee and some donuts that they were able to coax it into coming out of the box entirely.
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> At this point it became evident that they had purchased a quite medium-sized pig.
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> "Biogenetically Resequenced Attack Porcine," the pig clarified in a strong (some might say bad) French accent as they sat around the table of Visionary's dimly lit kitchen. "Or B.R.A.P. for you Americans, who are always in such a hurry."
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> "Er, okay... Brap" Visionary replied, consulting his owner's manual again and checking it against the invoice from the inside of the crate. Somehow a three-foot tall, bipedal, talking French pig wasn't the killer mutant he had envisioned. "Well, um... Halt Beast! I, Visionary--your master--command you!"
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> The BRAP paused its chewing and waited. "May I finish zis pastry?" it finally mumbled, "Or did you perhaps have something important for me to do?"
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> "Ah... yes... that is, er... You may, uh, finish your pastry" Visionary decided magnanimously before taking a long draw from his own coffee mug. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't exactly sure what one did with a genetically engineered mutant monster anyway. He had supposed that an idea would just come naturally... something that would allow him to gain the stature and recognition he so desperately wanted in the shadier circles of the Parodyverse. Of course, for any villain there was one direct route to that kind of acclaim: Beat the fabled Lair Legion.
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> He just wasn't sure that throwing a talking pig at them was going to do it.
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> Ms. Pfeffercorn, while perhaps still a bit disappointed in not having a large strapping cat-man as part of the gang, was nonetheless quickly warming to the charming porker. "Mr. Visionary is a great boss, you'll see!" she informed him enthusiastically. "He's one of the great criminal masterminds of the eastern seaboard." She leaned into the pig's ear conspiratorially. "He's got big plans. Really big."
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> Brap raised an eyebrow and looked Visionary up and down, then politely filled his mouth with more pastry.
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> "Well, here it is..." Visionary said as he swung open the door. "The Purgatory Lounge, conveniently located across the street from the courthouse." He ushered his newly acquired killer mutant pig into the dank interior and up to the grungy bar. Various burly men and dangerous looking women occupied the other stools and tables, and a couple of rough looking aliens played pool while an upright-walking gorilla banged on the jukebox. "It's kind of a villain hang-out, and a good place to pick up some extra muscle for a job."
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> Brap looked about the interior skeptically. "Ze famous villains of Parodiopolis... zey frequent zis place?"
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> "Well..." Visionary coughed delicately as he offered the pig a seat on one of the barstools, "I suppose the ones that are a bit better off tend to go to either Masamune's, the Willow or the Kryptonite Club... Maybe the Pub Perilous down on 57th, or Satan's Armpit Saloon off of the interstate..." He glanced at the pig. "Um... howabout we just get you a beer?"
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> "Would zey happen to have a wine list?"
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> Visionary thought on it. "I suppose they likely have something that has been walked through with bare feet..." he said dubiously. "Would that be close enough?"
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> "Ah. Perhaps a beer would be best."
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> "Sorry, fella... Not really a chardonnay kind of crowd in these parts." confided the attractive and fit brunette bartender. She casually dropped a bowl of peanuts and some cocktail napkins in front of them. "Here we tend to get your more 'blue collar' super villain types. Not to mention the cheap ones. How's life treating you, Vizh?"
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> "Same as usual, Sarah" he replied.
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> "Ooooh..." she winced. "Sorry."
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> "Heheheh... Um... she's just kidding." Visionary assured Brap. "Sarah, why don't you get my friend here a beer... and then could I see you for a moment?" he asked, inclining his head towards the far end of the bar. She filled a glass for the pig and then followed him there. "Ixnay on the ailure-fay" he pleaded. "I don't really want Brap to know about it."
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> She smiled sweetly. "Okay, but if so then you might want to reconsider your choice of code language."
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> Visionary shrugged. "Things might be on the upswing for me anyway... Brap there is a genetically engineered attack pig. He's an expert in 129 different forms of martial arts, and knows 47 ways to kill a man with his bare... um... pig's feet, I suppose. Together, I think that we might turn around my streak of bad luck when it comes to super villainy."
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> Sarah eyed the three foot French pig dubiously. "Okay, setting aside any health code violations involved in bringing him in here, have you really thought this whole super villain business through?" she asked as she drew another beer from the tap. "You're a nice enough guy, you seem to work well with others... I mean, I know a thing or two about luck. Maybe it would turn around for you if you, well... found some other occupation."
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> Visionary flushed angrily. "Look... I know I haven't been the most respected mastermind around these parts, but I'm perfectly capable at my job!"
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> "It's not really a question of whether you can do it..." Sarah began, placing the drink in front of him.
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> "I mean, okay... so the whole 'poultry cannon' scheme was an unfortunate misfire, and the hypnotically controlled ostriches turned out to be pretty useless on marble floors..."
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> "I'm not trying to be critical, Vizh... I just hoped..."
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> "...and I still feel really bad about that depilatory mist causing all of those grade-schoolers to lose their eyebrows, but the doctor assured me they would grow back... and... and..." Visionary paused and realized that he had raised his voice to such a level that the whole bar was looking at him. "A-heh... damn meddlesome kids had it coming" he said weakly. The bar went back to its business, and Visionary finally sighed. "Look, Sarah... I'm sorry. It's just... Have... have you ever felt that your destiny was so close that you could just reach out and... and literally grab it..." he closed his hand on empty air, "...yet you somehow knew it was sliding past and leaving you behind?" He looked dejectedly into his drink. "I just feel that... that I could be a part of something big. I know it. I just... don't know how yet. And I'm worried I won't until it's too late."
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> Sarah looked at him sympathetically. "All I'm trying to say is that maybe you're looking for your destiny on the wrong side."
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> "Indeed!" Brap chimed in, licking a beer foam mustache off of his snout. Visionary blinked in surprise and then flushed guiltily as the pig joined them. "Biologically enhanced hearing" Brap explained. "Plus, you were quite loud there, no? Please, please..." the pig began, waving off the master criminal's explanation. "Do not be ashamed. Why, even ze greatest of villains, zey need to start somewhere, no? Setbacks are a part of ze business. But perhaps ze lovely lady has ze right idea... Eef not as ze leader, perhaps eet would be best for you to consider a position as a first class henchman. I assure you, ze life can be quite fulfilling!"
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> "Well..." the bartender began gently, "That's not really what I..."
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> "I tried that, years ago." Visionary admitted. "I henched for the Baron up in his $250 million castle. It... wasn't really for me. Too much heavy lifting... and the consequences of messing up his flower garden were positively frightening. This buddy of mine knocked over a bag of peat moss once and..." He shrugged and drained his glass. "Well... let's just say that I never really bought the idea that poor Guido moved to France."
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> "Yes, well... zat ees an occupational hazard, true..."
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> Sarah rubbed her forehead wearily. "I'm not talking about being a henchman instead of a super villain! I'm saying that maybe you should..."
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> "Perhaps form a team of fellow supervillains!" Brap suggested helpfully. "Now zat ees an idea..."
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> Sarah shook her hands in frustration. "That's not...!"
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> "Well, well, well..." a cold voice suddenly said from the open door. "What have we here?"
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> Visionary turned to see a young girl standing in the entrance of the lounge, pulling off a pair of leather gloves. She looked familiar somehow... then it came to him. "Lisa?" he asked, shocked. "Here?"
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> The entire bar fell silent as every head in the place turned to look at the girl. A few of the less stunned thugs started backing toward the restrooms and the rear exit.
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> The girl turned to stare at Visionary with a certain contempt.
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> "Um... I mean...What brings you here?" he rallied gamely. "Does this mean you decided to represent me in that disturbing the peace charge? Possibly? The one with the fish market explosion and the whole 'raining mackerel onto the Easter Parade' incident?" Visionary gulped as she said nothing. "Ah... did I mention how great you look? Easily ten years younger! Um... not that I'm implying you looked old, or had plastic surgery, or anything like..."
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> "Dear lord... Will someone shut that half-wit up?" the girl finally grumbled, casually slapping the gloves against the palm of her left hand. "As for the rest of you worms... Listen up! I'm not that goody-goody leader of the Lair Legion, so you can stop wetting yourselves." She grinned. "Until, of course, you learn that I'm much, much worse."
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> Visionary cast a questioning glance at Sarah, but she only shrugged in reply. It was then that he noticed Brap trying very hard to shrink behind his barstool.
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> Apparently the girl noticed it too. Her eyes suddenly went very wide, and then filled with a certain malicious glee. "Why, I'll be... If it isn't my favorite FCB!"
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> Resigned to having been seen, Brap stepped around his stool with a slow dignity. "Asil" he greeted her coldly.
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> "Tsk-tsk-tsk... is that any way to greet a sibling? You know, the diabolical doctor was quite put out when she realized that she had misplaced you... The banquet plans just weren't the same without you."
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> "You cannot know how sorry zat makes me" the pig answered dryly. "As eet stands now, I have a new employer."
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> "Employer?" she asked, blinking.
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> "Yes... Brap works for me now." Visionary said, standing to face her. "I bought his services on the black market this morning."
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> "Brap?" She looked from Visionary to the pig and then laughed. "Don't tell me you managed to sell yourself as part of the biogenetically resequenced attack program! Oh, that's rich!" She dropped her face to her hands as her shoulders shook with mirth.
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> The pig and his employer scowled. "Was there something you wanted?" Visionary finally asked grumpily.
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> "Ha! Brap! Hang on... gimme a minute..." Asil chuckled. She wiped a tear from her eye as she looked back at them. "Ahem... good one, FCB. Anyway, you're right, this isn't a social visit. Listen up, people!" she called out, scanning the remaining patrons of the bar. "I'm here on behalf of my employer. We're looking for 2 men, forklift experience necessary. The job's tonight. Anybody who knows the city reservoir, or has technical knowledge of pumping stations and/or significant plumbing experience is a definite plus."
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> There was an instant rustling of papers as various patrons quickly moved to present their resumes and references. Asil calmly took a seat at a nearby table to look over the applicants, but not until she had cast one last amused look towards the two scowling figures at the bar.
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> "What did she mean by 'FCB'?" Visionary asked.
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> "Nothing... nothing... just ah, how you say? ... A term of endearment." The pig replied quickly.
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> Visionary turned around and pointedly ignored the girl. "Yeah, I can see how close you two are" he responded dryly. "Is she actually your sister?"
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> "Ah, well... zat ees an overstatement" the pig replied. "She ees another creation of ze diabolical villainess zat made me ze pig I am today."
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> "Huh... a clone girl, eh?" Visionary asked, glancing back at the busy henchwoman. "Has she ever been in here before, Sarah? ...Sarah?"
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> "Hmmm?" the bartender answered, returning her attention from the job interviews being conducted by the henchgirl. "Sorry, I...um... just remembered something I have to do tonight" She smiled apologetically. "The beers are on the house guys. Vizh, just please... think about what I said. Chances are you can turn things around for yourself. Brap, it was a pleasure meeting you..." She spoke to the Purgatory's owner, a weary looking Greek man reading a newspaper at the end of the bar, waved goodbye to everyone and ducked out the front door.
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> "What ees a nice woman like her doing working een a place like zis?" Brap asked, watching her go.
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> Visionary shrugged. "Beats me. She came with the new owner. I think the whole criminal scene makes her nervous... every time she hears someone planning for a job she 'remembers' something she needs to be doing elsewhere." The two of them climbed onto their barstools and settled in to wait. "It's probably just as well she doesn't get herself involved anyway... Some people just aren't cut out for such dangerous work."
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> "We are a rare breed indeed, no?"
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> "True" Visionary agreed, chewing on his lip. "Still, you might have struck on a good idea, before... If we could find some like-minded individuals, then perhaps as a team..."
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> "Ah! Do my perfectly formed ears deceive me?" Asil's voice suddenly sounded from directly behind them, making them both jump. "Or do I hear the origins of a super-villain team up brewing?"
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> Visionary turned with a frown. "You know, eavesdropping on private conversations is hardly polite." He informed her, raising his voice to be heard over the sudden backroom ruckus caused by the start of the regular Friday night cockfights. "What business is it of yours, anyway?"
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> Her young face split into an extra wide grin as she presented a black business card with gold lettering. "Funny you should ask..."
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> "Herringcarp Asylum" He read again, for the fifth time. "That's... big time."
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> "Oui... I do not doubt eet" Brap replied nervously. "Still, I think that perhaps we should think twice about zis generous offer..."
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> "Ooooh!" Ms. Pfeffercorn cooed with excitement from behind the wheel as she drove them along the dark and winding road. "This is so exciting! Secret, nefarious meetings held in the ruined hideout of the world's most notorious arch-villain!" She spared herself a quick appraisal in the rear-view mirror. "Do I look all-right boss? The false-eyelashes aren't too much, are they? I wanted to look mysterious and exotic..."
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> "Hmmm?" Visionary replied, breaking his near hypnotic gaze upon the business card. "Oh, no... you're a regular femme fatale tonight. Honest." If he felt that her prancing unicorn earrings and charm bracelet detracted from any such look, he kindly kept it to himself.
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> "You know, eet is not too late to turn back... We could just... kidnap zee Mayor or something... I hear eet is not hard... though finding someone to pay for eem might be difficult."
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> "What are you so nervous about? This is what we were looking for, isn't it?"
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> "I was just looking for wine" the pig answered, staring dejectedly out the window..
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> "Well, you work for me now..." Visionary reminded him pointedly. "And this is what I was looking for... A real opportunity. Besides, you were all gung-ho on the idea until that Asil girl came up. Surely you can put aside your differences with her out of a sense of professionalism. I'd expect nothing less from a biogenetically resequenced attack pig such as yourself. The owner's manual said you were quite adaptable."
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> "Ah... oui, oui..." Brap agreed quickly. "Adaptable."
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> "I think this must be the place, boss!" Ms. Pfeffercorn announced from the front seat as the decrepit asylum came into view over the twisted black trees lining the road. "Oooh! Gargoyles! Don't they just add the perfect touch?"
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> "Er... quite" Visionary agreed, taking in the infamous building with a shudder. It was as if the madness of the inmates had seeped into the very stone and planks that comprised their prison, warping and rotting them as easily as it had the human brain. The shingles of the roof bristled like the hairs on the back of a disturbed feline, and the rusty gate hung half-off it's hinges, as if thoroughly exhausted from the fight to keep the sickness within the building contained. In short, it was pretty damn creepy. "You know... on second thought, I hear the Mayor has really bad security..."
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> "Look!" the bubbly chauffeur interrupted. "There's a light on in the entry hall!" She pulled the Pinto of Doom through the gates and down the driveway. Various other vehicles were parked along the stretch just in front of the main entrance. With considerable skill, she managed to parallel park between two hulking, sinister limousines, then spun around in her seat. "I guess we should go knock, huh?"
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> Visionary exchanged a glance with Brap, then looked down to the black business card in his hand. The gold lettering shone in the moonlight. "Yes" He decided with a deep breath. "I guess we should."
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