Fredzilla's First Day on the Job
To be a superhero was to acknowledge the truth of - the
power of - evil.
It was really just a passing thought, but sometimes those were the sneakiest and most underhanded kinds of thoughts there were. Or, no: the
heaviest thoughts. Biggest and fastest. Buses were just passing, for example, and those tended to hit really,
really hard.
(Being a superhero meant you knew from experience what getting run over was like.)
...where was he going, again? Ah, right. Main street; checking for villains. And
villains! The
power of
evil.
Fredzilla wasn't often the philosophical sort, but, you know how it is. You end up with a lot of spare time, out on patrol. Plenty of space between rooftops to fill with whatever crossed your mind. Usually, that was battle tactics, cool attack names, costume upgrades, angsting about your obviously-tortured archfoe ...
... but sometimes.
Sometimes, you, uh. You pass by an advertisement for something. A billboard, dedicated to, say, Drakktech's newest holographic television display. Drakktech, which was headed by Shego. Who was a known supervillainess. And murderess.
And your mask, which you needed to protect your secret identity, because people might hurt you or your loved ones if they knew who you were, because the police might charge you with a crime if you were caught being a superhero, because evil could stand in the light all it wanted while good had to cower in the shadows, was ...
...well, your mask might itch. Basically. Just a little bit. Self-evident, like the, uh. The power of evil.
Fredzilla wasn't usually philosophical, because, honestly, philosophy tended to bum him out.
A lot of things you had to think about these days tended to bum a
lot of people out, which, Fred was self-aware enough to admit, was
probably why a lot of people didn't do a lot of thinking. Which in turn was why the bad guys could smile down on you from billboards, and the good guys had to skulk the streets in pursuit of
vigilante justice.
One of those vicious cycles. Like ... like ...
...the wind was cold in Fransokyo, tonight, which, fair; it
was January. But still, there was only so much fuel one costume could fit, and only so many places in the city to secretly store backup costumes in, which meant there was only so much fire breath one could breathe in service of not getting hypothermia.
It was a vicious cycle. The more you tried to make yourself warm, the less warm you could be in the long run.
And only the bad guys got to stand in the sun.
Brrrr.
Fredzilla leapt to the next roof - he was getting better at it; only knocked over three satellite dishes this month! And one helicopter.
That was the other problem with philosophy, like - okay. Things weren't optimal. Did it really
help, though? Knowing that? Heck, come to think of it, didn't he
already know that? That was ...
"Far as I'm concerned, actions are just thoughts you haven't had yet," Fredzilla said, to no one in particular.
"Amen to that," said the old woman at the corner of the roof, watering her garden despite the gently falling snow.
"Fear not, citizen!" Fredzilla proclaimed, not missing a beat. "For as long as Fredzilla and those like he patrol San Fransokyo, badness will be banished! Naughtiness will not naysay niceness! And evil, vile evil, two words which are anagrams for each other and that
isn't a coincidence, shall not prevail!"
"Evil can prevail all it likes," the old woman muttered, walking to the rooftop door. "Just so long as it puts food on the table."
Slam.
Fredzilla looked at the door life had closed on him, as though he could go into it without someone calling it "breaking and entering" and using it to re-prop up the SRA, and he ...he ...
He didn't
like the impulse to say screw the fuel supply and burn this lady's garden down. It wasn't a thought a
good guy would have.
He sighed, drooping. "Man," he said, about - nothing. Everything. All of it.
...he sighed again. Then, after a moment's thought, he headed towards the edge of the roof, trying to catch a glimpse of star through the snowy sky.
"I..."
He faltered.
"Hey."
He scratched his neck.
"Hey, big guy, I..." another moment to breathe. "You know, I've always believed in you, right? No matter how bad things got. I mean, I get why other people don't, but ..."
He shook his head.
"I'm gettin' this all out of order," Fredzilla muttered. "What I'm trying to say, here, is, is that ... I'm sure there's a
reason things are all, I dunno, messed up? The way they are. And - and I don't
want to doubt you, but ... I..."
His head dropped to the city lights, before him.
No stars, plenty of city. Self-evident.
"I'm startin' to doubt
myself, here."
The snow fell.
"I wanna believe I'm doin' something
good here. Something worthwhile. But, I gotta be honest, I feel like I'm ..." he waved a claw, vaguely. "Just spinnin' my wheels, y'know? I don't wanna admit it, but lately it feels like I'm not
getting anywhere. All the bad guys I can put away, just ... they just break out again. And the ones I can't, like ..."
A passing blimp, Glomgold's face smiling oh-so-benevolently upon it. Please ignore the glimmering gemstones in his grin, and the starving populace below.
"...what am I doing?"
It was January, sure, but San Fransokyo was so cold.
"I'm startin' to lose faith in you, big guy, and -" Fredzilla took in a deep breath. "I don't
want to be the bad guy. I don't wanna hold my belief in you hostage! But, I just ... I don't see a way out, and ... I don't know what I'm
doing, and ..."
Fredzilla's tail hit the ground with a soft, snowy
thump.
"If you're
really out there, and you want me to keep doing good in your name, then ... then need you to give me a call."
Silence.
"Wait, no," Fredzilla shook his head. "Gah, sorry, misspoke.
Send me a sign. Not ... heh, why would I ask you that? I don't think you even have a
phone, dude, why would you give me a -"
Ooh, ooh, ooh, (Shooby doo) I wanna be like you-ooh-ooh!~
The alert! The super-secret alert Fredzilla had set up with the local authorities for the day that they inevitably realized how wrong they were, and how badly they needed Fredzilla's assistance!
(Which was to say, Fredzilla's text message alert.)
Digging around in his costume for longer than strictly would be comfortable to watch, Fredzilla
eventually pulled his phone out, leaning in and squinting at the message onscreen.
Available for ... team-up? Bossman has need of your services. Public library roof in twenty minutes?
-Agent U.
Fredzilla had never given him his number.
Slowly, wonderingly, with new faith filling his heart, the superhero turned his head skywards. If you looked carefully,
so carefully, perhaps it would just be your imagiantion, but ... the clouds cleared, ever so slightly. A single star could be seen shining through.
Fredzilla swallowed, tears filling his eyes.
"Thanks, Santa Claus."
0-0-0-0
"No
thank you!"
"Fred - look. I know it
sounds pretty bad, but listen -"
"No, you listen, buster! There is no way that I, a known superhero, am
ever gonna do work for the bad guys! Guh, I can't believe Santa would let me down like this ..."
"I'm ... just going to ignore that last part. Look, I ... I understand that this offer doesn't exactly mesh with the heroic legacy you're trying to leave behind, but -"
"I'm insulted. Personally, professionally, and
culinarily insulted that you'd even
think about asking me to work somewhere with the word 'Evil' right in the name! That's not,
not meshing, that's
exactly the opposite of what I'm all about, Agent Unknown! Man, I can't believe I misjudged you like this!"
"Please. Give me a chance to explain."
"...fine. But only because I think the Let's-You-and-Him-Fight trope is getting kind of stale."
"Preaching to the choir, there, kid. Look, what you have to understand here, is, the name and ... and the
image of DEI can be a bit off-putting. But Doctor Doofenschmirtz, no matter how he likes to portray himself, has done nothing but help people. Ending famines, bringing new life, reaching a hand out to Toonkind. Do those
sound like the machinations of a mad tyrant to you?"
"...no. But, like ... I dunno."
"Fredzilla. Every superhero needs a secret identity, right?"
"...huh. Yeah, that ... that
does make sense. Huh."
"So?"
"I don't know, Agent Unknown. I mean, I get what you're saying - I was too quick to judge you all, there at DEI. I'm sorry for that."
"No harm, no foul."
"Thanks. But, but Fransokyo's my home! My stomping grounds! I'm everyone's friendly neighborhood kaiju! How am I supposed to give all of that up?"
"Besides the fact that we can give you the opportunity to do some real good in the world? Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated offers several retirement packages, full-coverage medical insurance, and yearly bonuses."
"Hah. Nice try, but man doesn't live on moolah alone! ... well, man kind of does, actually. But I'm rich!"
"
And dental."
"...when do I start?"
0-0-0-0
February 22nd, 2017.
Danville wasn't all that different from San Fransokyo, come down to it. Sure, a bit more architecturally ...
... Fredzilla had never been good at doing jigsaw puzzles. He always tried to do too many at once, 'cause just the one was
boring, and pieces would get mixed up, and he'd end up with a picture that was half a city skyline, a quarter a volcano, an eighth an underwater palace, and about 70% a picture of Beyonce.
Someone with a similar problem had apparently been nominated as city planner.
... but
atmospherically, it was the same exact place. Bright lights, stark shadows. Robots on every corner. The distinct sense, even among a populace used to it all, that things weren't quite
normal. Even the smog was the same, if a bit more ... purposeful, more ubiquitous.
New sky, same storm clouds.
But that was okay! Storm clouds were a-okay. There was something symbolic in storm clouds. Justice, like lightning, should always appear to few men's ruin, but all men's fear.
...huh, that was a pretty good line. In fact, one of the best Fredzilla'd ever thought of! In
fact, heck, that ought to be his entrance line! What better way to make a first impression at his new job, right?
"Justice, like lightning, should always appear," Fredzilla boomed, walking up to the front doors of Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated, "To few men's ruin, but all men's -"
"Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporateeeed~"
"...too-shay, Doctor," Fredzilla said, clenching his fist. "Too
-shay."
"Ah, Fredzilla," the familiar man, black suit, black shades, walked towards the front door with a smile on his face. "Good to see you. Glad you've decided to join us in the world of the whimsical and wondrous."
He paused.
"Sorry, I, uh, woke up in a mood this morning. How was your flight?"
"Can't complain, Agent Unknown!" Fredzilla said, striding confidently into the entry way. "Can't com-plain. Orange juice always tastes better out of champagne glasses. Woah, that guy working for you! Totally Temujin, right? Genghis Khan? Somehow, I thought he'd be taller."
"Please, call me Russ," Russ said, as Temujin looked in nearby mirror, confusedly patting his own head. He looked ... self-conscious? "Everyone does."
Fredzilla was, itchiness might remind one, wearing a mask. Still, someone could easily get the impression that he was goggling at Russ, somehow. "Oh-ho-ho, I gotcha!
Russ." he eventually cracked a smile. You know. Probably. "Gotta keep the
secret secret identity up, right? Make sure you're able to freely move? Too many monkey wrenches, not enough hands. Can't let the boss upstairs in on the fact that you're secretly not a villain at all. Iiiii gotcha!"
Russ was in a similar situation as Fredzilla. Shades. Yet, somehow, staring. "i thought I'd made it clear that DEI wasn't that sort of company?"
"
Exactly!" Fredzilla said, pulling Russ close and dropping to what he probably thought was a soft whisper. "It's just like in the
Members of the Board arc in Captain Courageous numbers 136-148! Where the evil company throws up a
smokescreen as a good company, so that no one suspects them of the nefarious evil deeds lurking beneath the surface like a sinister iceberg, SO! Our heroes have to infiltrate as
supervillains in order to procure evidence of their true misdoings!"
Russ pulled away. "I think you might have the wrong idea, here -"
"You don't have to pretend,
Russ," Fredzilla said, winking, somehow, through the suit. "I'm picking up what you're putting down! The whole conversation back in 'Sokyo gave me the heebie jeebies, so I did my own research, right?"
Russ laughed. "I, uh, don't mean to offend, but maybe a comic book isn't the best research for -"
"Doofenschmirtz's
totally secretly taken over the Tri-State area by force, right?" Fredzilla asked.
"What?"
"I did a little research into DEI," Fredzilla said. "Everyone's talking about how awesome they are, how they cloned the dinosaurs, ended the famine, saved a bunch of cats from trees, all kinds of stuff. But
nobody has anything bad to say! Except for Doom, but that guy doesn't have anything good to say about anyone, anyway
listen, what I mean is - no newspapers! No news
stations! Heck, not even any supermarket tabloids!"
Mirage, as she walked by, gently pressed a paper cup of water into Fredzilla's hands, otherwise not breaking her stride or acknowledging the conversation.
"Ah, thanks, I was getting parched," Fredzilla said, before pouring the water into his costume's mouth-hole. "So, my point is, the only people who the news has
nothing bad to say about - not even a fashion faux pas - are villains who have the media under their control! So if Doof is a villain, and all the newspapers talk about is how he does this big ironic dictator-joke all the time, then..."
Fredzilla stopped talking, gesturing for Russ to finish that line of thought for him.
"...let me give you the grand tour," Russ mumbled, spinning on his heel and walking down the hall.
"Oh-ho-ho-kay then!" Fredzilla said, smug upon smug, throwing the crumpled-up cup into a nearby trash can and taking his rightfully-earned conversational victory. "Lead, the way, """""Russ"""""! I'll be right behind you! Oh, hey, where do you guys keep all the secret evil magic stuff?"
Russ sighed. Regret.
0-0-0-0
"And this," Russ said, having picked up some steam in the intervening half an hour, "Is our most precious magical item to date."
"An automatic potion maker?" Fredzilla questioned, reading the sign. "'Kay, pretty cool. Pretty cool. Not sure how it overtakes the Ruby Wings in the coolness
or valuable-ness categories, but ..."
In response to the unsaid question, a silent answer - Russ pressed a cup into the level, letting the hot brown liquid fill it to the brim.
"Ah, yeah," Fredzilla nodded. "Yeah, coffee'd do it." He paused, then brushed the leaves of the nearby potted plant to the side.
NO SELF-LOVE POTIONS
THOSE IN NEED OF SELF-ESTEEM BOOSTS ARE ENCOURAGED TO VISIT TECHNOR ASAP
"Oh, Technor!" Fredzilla said, brightening. "He's the electricity-eating robot dude, right?"
"He's also a trained psychologist," Russ smiled, softly. The miracles of coffee. "Part of the medical package."
"Good to hear," Fredzilla said, hands on hips. "Uh, not for me, obviously. Me? Psychiatric help? Psssh! I'm the
pinnacle of mental health, obviously!"
Russ stared at him.
Eventually, he lifted the coffee to his lips, and took a long drag.
"Totes got it covered," Fredzilla said.
Russ slowly nodded. "Well, that's that for the arcane wing," he said, blatantly changing the subject. "You wanna check out our science division?"
0-0-0-0
"That," Fredzilla said, tapping the glass twice, "Is the biggest mosquito I've ever seen."
BZZZZZZZZZZZ, thoughtspoke the insect-shaped crack in reality.
"It's my pride and joy," Pleakley sniffled, patting at his eye with a red handkerchief.
"Woahhhh," Fredzilla said, awed. "You
made that thing, freaky one-eyed probably an alien dude?"
"Oh, no," Pleakley chuckled, a hand on Fredzilla's shoulder. "No, I didn't
make Damien."
Pleakley gazed into the glass, as though it were a magic 8-ball with all the answers, and allowed his other hand to reach out, as though attempting to shake.
"I
crafted him," he continued, softly. "Bore him from the dark designs of death and nothingness, heartfelt, into the light of day. Every hair, every wingbeat, every lovingly horrific buzz - all perfectly
him. Exactly as I envisioned."
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, Damien thoughtspoke. It was horrific.
"That is so COOL!" Fredzilla said, jumping up and down in place. "Can he do tricks?"
"Yes," Pleakley said, voice flattening out. "And that's, ah, sort of the problem. You know, if you believe
other people. Other people, the faceless crowd, naysayers of individuality, of self-expression." He sighed. "Every day, I feel as though I understand Jumba a little bit more..."
"What kind of tricks?" Fredzilla asked, heedless.
Pleakley perked up. "Oho, well, the
first major thing our friend can do is -"
"Out," said Lizzy, suddenly apparating, monotone something firm - like three tons of perfectly cubed obsidian. "Out."
"I-I just wanted to
see -"
"You aren't allowed," she continued, actually pushing him out of the room. "He's your fault. You aren't allowed.
Out."
"Damien!" Pleakley cried, raging against the dying of the light. "Damien, listen to me! I'll be back for you! I'll be -"
Lizzy slammed the door shut on him, and his voice was instantly silenced.
Damien stared after Pleakley for several moments before his head drooped.
Bzzzzzzz... it thoughtspoke, its sheer disappointment and loneliness transmitting without the need of words to get in the way.
"Quit whining," Lizzy said. "We'll let you out as soon as you stop involuntarily folding space around your wings."
Fredzilla took all this in for a while, before holding his hand out. To shake. "Fredzilla. Superhero."
Lizzy looked at his hand. Eventually, she stuck out her own hand. She didn't actually shake, or even grab. Just ... stuck it out. "Lizzy. I ... like ants."
Fredzilla nodded. "I like uncles."
Lizzy slowly nodded in return, apparently considering this. "I need to feed Damien," she said, crossing over to the room's other door. "I am told it is a distressing sight, for most people."
"Sounds sick!" Fredzilla said, giving her a thumbs up.
Hesitantly, Lizzy returned the thumbs up, before shutting the door behind her.
"Wow," Fredzilla said, sounding genuinely awed. "My first day on the job at an evil corporation and I'm already getting to see a weird reality-twisting monster made by a crazy alien drain the blood of the probably-innocent! ... hey, wait, where are we going?"
"Anywhere but here," Russ said, firmly, dragging Fredzilla along by the arm. "I knew letting you lead the way was only going to end up causing problems. Just once, I should -"
Pleakly leapt through the door Russ opened, brandishing what looked to be one of Tobe's many plastic ninja swords. "DAMIEN I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU-"
0-0-0-0
"Cafeteria," Russ said, nice and simple. Ignore the bruise on his forehead. "Fully-stocked. Any kind of sandwich you could ever want." He paused, then, in a weary voice: "And many you don't."
"I'll be the judge of that," Fredziilla said, pivoting on his heel and not bothering with the menu. "Hey, yo! Name's Fredzilla, first day here. Wantin' to celebrate with something special. Give me ..."
A superhero really shouldn't chuckle evilly like that.
"A chow mein sandwich ... in the
hockey puck style."
"HAVE A SANDWICH!"
Splort.
"...huh, this tastes pretty good."
Russ tried, desperately, not to laugh.
0-0-0-0
"As for people," Russ said, continuing the tour. "Well, you've already met some of our best and brightest. Here, we have one of our burliest."
The figure in question was normally ... pretty boisterous. Not now, though. The silence was, in a word,
awkward.
"....that, uh, would be your cue?"
Still silent.
"Hego," Russ said, maybe a little sharply. Long day.
For a few moment, there was still silence.
Eventually, though, Hego raised his hand, and put it on Fredzilla's shoulder. "You," he said, voice soft, vulnerable. "You get it."
Fredzilla put his claw on Hego's hand. "Yeah," he said. "I do."
Russ's face slowly sank into his hands.
0-0-0-0
A bolt of electricity soared past Fredzilla's head.
Russ spread his arm out over the scene. "And
this is -"
A screaming mongol was sent flying, quickly followed by a laughing Kitsune.
"- what we have here is -"
A swarm of bats encircled, screeching, before dissolving into smoke.
" - this room is -"
Ninjas attacked. The straw dummy won.
" - what you're
looking at - "
625, snoozing, snored by on an oddly-solid bubble.
"...I'm going to resort to drastic measures, here, and just be ...
honest." Russ coughed, seeming uncomfortable. "Fredzilla, something about you completely stymies my narrative sense. I've been the butt of the joke all day."
"I get that a lot," Fredzilla nodded. He looked around at the chaos. "This is the training room?"
"This is the training room," Russ nodded back.
"Sweet."
The duo watched the continually-unfolding chaos. A howler monkey with a baseball bat descended from the ceiling, swinging in all directions.
"Not usually this active," Russ commented.
"Feels like a welcome party," Fredzilla said.
Russ smiled. "Keep that optimism, kid."
0-0-0-0
"Sooooooo," Fredzilla said, standing ... not
quite back in the lobby where they'd started. About two rooms off. Still, close enough to completing the circle. "That's the grand tour, huh? Doofenschmirtz Evil incorporated, in a nutcase?"
"Nutshell," Russ reflexively corrected, before actually considering. "Well. Hmm." He shook it off. "Anyway, yes. All the bells, most of the whistles, and even a few of the foghorns. Not to be rude, but ... I trust you remember the NDAs you've signed?"
"Yeah, yeah," Fredzilla said, waving his concerns off. "But, just, like ... I don't know, Age - er. Russ. I don't want to sound, like, ungrateful, or anything, but just ... this whole tour...?"
"Ah, yes," Russ said, understanding. "I'm, ah ... well, to tell you the truth, I'm not normally the one who brings people into the fold, around here." He scratched his neck, almost ... embarrassed, actually. "The Good Doctor usually likes to be more hands-on with his new hires, but ... sad to say, he had a last-minute meeting he needed to attend to. That left it to me, and well ..." A self-admonishing chuckle. "I'm usually more about keeping the secrets than revealing them."
"Nah, it's not that," Fredzilla said, seeming ... off-center, a little.
Russ's eyebrow rose. Just the one. "I really do apologize. I'd hate to think I'd left you feeling unwelcome ...?"
"Seriously, you did a super job, my guy," Fredzilla put a clawed hand on Russ's shoulder. "Really. Thanks."
Russ nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm glad to hear it. What's the problem, then?"
"Well ..." Fredzilla cocked his head one way, then the other. "It's just ..." A sigh. "There was supposed to be an Earth-Shattering Kaboom!"
Russ barked out a laugh, surprised. "Marvin the Martian," he said, shaking his head. "Classic. Don't tell me you
wanted something to blow up?"
"We were touring the headquarters of a Tri-State conquering Mad Scientist!" Fredzilla said, impassioned. "How could there
not be explosions around every corner?!"
"An off-day?" Russ smiled, shrugging.
"It's seriously disappointing," Fredzilla huffed. "No offense."
"None taken."
"It's just -" Fredzilla sighed. "Y'know, i get that this place is what most people'd consider pretty ... pretty weird. And i get that
I'm pretty weird, too." Fidget, fidget. "But I thought ... i just thought that ..."
"You thought?" Russ prompted.
Fredzilla looked at him. "I thought I'd finally found someplace where I ... where I was on the same wavelength, y'know?"
Russ pulled in a breath. Sharp. "Ah," he said. Paused. "It's hard not to feel alone, sometimes. Especially in a world like this."
"The loneliest," Fredzilla muttered, possibly without noticing.
Russ thought for a moment. "But you've been brighter, today," he said, at last. "Illuminating, I'd say. The way you've... you've lit up, at every turn. Taken to everything we are, here at DEI, making it your own just by
looking at it..."
A worn, weathered palm landed on Fredzilla's shoulder, and Russ continued:
"Maybe
you're the explosion you've been looking for, all along."
Fredzilla sniffled. "You really mean that?"
"I do," Russ said. "Wholeheartedly."
"Wow," Fredzilla ran an arm across his costume's nose, so naturally you maybe wouldn't question it, just for a second. "Wow, that's ... that means ... that means a
lot, you have no idea. Thanks, man."
"If you don't mind me saying," Russ said, a bit hesitantly, "It seems to me like you've got a lot of ... well. We won't go into specifics, but a
lot of it. You get what I mean?"
"Yeah," Fredzilla nodded, eagerly, quickly. "Yeah, I - I really do."
"It's good to keep even the bad times in mind," Russ said, "But to let them
overtake your mind ... not so much. But in some ways, that's what this job is all about." He smiled, softly. "A new start."
"Hey, I'm already workin' for you guys," Fredzilla chuckled, sincere despite the hint of gloom, gently punching Russ's arm. "Pretty sure the 'sellin' me' phase is already over."
"Fair enough," Russ shrugged, casual, off-hand. "All I'm trying to say is that ... this is a building where the future can be found."
One last pause.
"This is the place for leaving your tragic backstory behind you."
KRA-THOOOOOM.
"Oh, hey, there's the explosion," Fredzilla said, brightening, even as the building shook.
"What in the name of the Boston Tea Party..." Russ said, looking around for the source of danger-
- a nearby door creaked open.
"Alright, so!" the smell of smoke, the sight of smoke, and - stay with us, here - the
sound of smoke all entered the room simultaneously, trailed shortly after by a man with a much smaller voice than his large stature would suggest. "No need to panic! Nooooo need to panic,
anybody. Just ... just a little short! On the
alien spaceship my new boss was apparently hiding in one of his, uh,
evil warehouses! The alien spaceship he wanted me to retrofit with, you know, ANcient MYStiCAL TALISMANS??? That grant telekinesis! And
ghostliness! Pfffft, nothin' I can't
handle! ComPLETELY NORMAL part of workin' at Doofenschmirtz Eeeeevilllll Incorporated! Yup, y'know, just gotta ... re-examine those, uh, those
lightspeed-defying warp drives, and ..."
The green-tinted giant slowly trailed off from his latest impending mental breakdown.
"...Fred?" he softly said.
"Wasabi?" Fredzilla rejoined. "Is that ... is that you, man?"
"You two know each other," Russ asked, insofar as one could ask something without it actually being a question.
Maybe that was why there was no answer. From either of them. Or maybe it's because they were too busy staring at each other.
... probably the second one.
Because they
were staring. Slack-jawed, with eyes wide enough to see the shape of everything you'd ever tried to forget. They were staring. Staring at each other like trying to ... conceive of the possibility. Like aliens, and magic, and secret identities, but - more personal.
Closer.
Farther
away. They were only feet apart, those two, and yet - fathoms. Leagues. Lightyears. A distance insurmountable by anything other than vision, and patience, alone.
Look, don't touch.
They were staring. Waiting, perhaps, to see ... see ...
...see who would make the first move.
The clock struck twelve. High noon.
Janna Ordonia popped out of practically nowhere, pounding her fists on a nearby table. "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!
kiss, kiss, kiss"
And so they did.
0-0-0-0
"So," Doofenschmirtz sighed, leaning back in his office chair. "I don't - I
really don't want to come down on you so hard on your first day, Fredzilla, but ... but even if you
hadn't moved that little display of yours into the main lobby, what you and Wasabi were doing was ... well, it was
completely outta line!"
"Yeah," Fredzilla said, determinedly staring at the ground. The fact that the chair he was sitting in was more comfortable than any he'd ever sat in (and he lived in a
mansion) did not change the utter
pain inherent in this conversation. "Yeah, no, you're right."
"I want you to understand me, here," Doofenschmirtz said, stern, leaning back forwards. Serious face mode. "I don't
disapprove of you building up your personal relationships, no matter
what they might look like. In fact, I'm, I'm happy! Happy to have an employee that throws themselves so energetically into a new nemesis!"
"I, uh, wouldn't exactly call Wasabi a
nemesis ..."
Doofenschmirtz stared at him, face flat. "You want me to bring up the security footage?"
Fredzilla's blush could, literally, be seen through his costume.
"That's what I thought," Doofenschmirtz said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hoo, boy. Oh, man. This ...
wow." He laughed, just a little. "Gah, I feel like I should be calling your
parents or something."
"Oh, Santa, please help me."
"Santa can't hear you here," Doofenschmirtz said, matter of fact. "I made
sure of
that." He sighed. "Look. You don't wanna be having this conversation. Neither do I. We'll, uh, bring it to the bottom line. Can you keep your working relationship with Wasabi a
professional one?"
"Yes, sir," Fredzilla said. "Absolutely."
"Then we're good, here," Doofenschmirtz said, with a smile. "And, uh, don't feel
too badly about getting carried away. I know, I know, super-embarrassing, but trust me - I haven't had a nemesis in years, but if Perry the Platypus were to walk in that door right now..."
He trailed off.
"...uhhh..." Fredzilla looked around, as though expecting to see a semi-aquatic egg-laying mammal of action. "Sir?"
"Ah, right, right." Doofenschmirtz shook himself. "Apologies. We're doin' the heart-to-heart thing, right? Well, Fredzilla - can I call you Zilla?"
"Oh, yeah, sure thing!"
"Zilla," Doofenschmirtz continued, "I'm glad we were able to talk through this. We really
do want you here, as part of the DEI family!" He winked. "Whaddya say? We put all this behind us, and you can call me your favorite uncle!"
"I
do like uncles," Fredzilla said, cupping his chin with his claw. "You know what, doc? I think I can manage that."
"That's great to hear!" Doofenschmirtz enthused. "Now, then, I understand that Russ's given you the whole, secret projects, meeting wanted supercriminals, staring into voids in reality, grand tour! Explosions included! But that's all
us talking to
you. Let's do some flippin' on this script: any concerns or questions
you'd like to bring up?" And then, seeming to anticipate: "Firstly, I want to reassure you, Zilla, that your own personal point of view is
valued here at DEI. The fact that you're a superhero will not and
should not in any way impact how you are treated during your time here. If anyone starts pullin' a Syndrome, you just let me know, alrighty?"
Fredzilla had never been the philosophical sort. But sometimes, things deserved a second look, once you got their mask off. And some things ... well. Some things were worth thinking about.
Because really, everyone seemed so full of life, here, at Doofenschmirtz Evil incorporated. Life, friendliness, and consideration. Heck, even after he ... lost control of himself ... down in the lobby, the boss was here in the office, trying to put things behind him. Trying to reassure him. Trying to make him ... part of the family, to put a point on it. If you thought about it, Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated wasn't so Evil after all. The only one who'd done anything wrong today, after all, was Fredzilla himself.
Maybe it wasn't that evil stood in the sun, and good in the shade. Maybe the sunlight just showed people who you were, that was all.
Kind of a happy thought.
"Thank you, sir," Fredzilla said, trying not to sound choked up. "I...I'll keep it in mind. And, uh, no. No to any questions, I got ... everything I wanted. Explosions and everything."
"That's great!" Doofenschmirtz said. "In that case, there's only a couple of things left on my end. First of all, I've looked over your paperwork, and it's, let's see here,
mostly in order. Buuuuuut I
think you might have forgotten to put down, ah, your bank info?"
"Oh, shoot!" Fredzilla jumped. "Oh, that's super embarrassing. Yeah, totally slipped my mind."
"Not a big deal!" Doofeschmirtz said. "Just get it in before next Monday; that's payday. The other thing is ..."
His face fell.
"Russ tells me you're trying to sabotage my company from the inside and destroy my stranglehold on the Tri-State area."
Uh oh.
"Nnnnnnnnno?" Fredzilla slowly said, after about six seconds. "That was ... a
joke."
"Hilarious," Doofenschmirtz said, utterly flat.
Yep, nope, ya boi was screwed.
Fredzilla leapt from his seat, putting one foot on the bossman's desk. "Wicked
and wily! Truly, you are one of my most formidable foes, Doctor Heinz Doofenschmirtz!"
"Forced," Doofenschmirtz said. "Look, ease up, okay? I'm not
exactly happy, right now, but I still want you to work for me. Just ...just wanted to let you know we're gonna be keeping an eye on you, alright? Maybe giving you a shorter leash than we normally would, that's all. Making sure everything's on the level."
"Ha ha!" Fredzilla scoffed. "There's no hope -"
He paused.
He blinked.
"Wait," he said. "You do?"
"I'm willing to look past the whole, eh, trying to destroy me thing," Doofenschmirtz shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Fredzilla, for once in his life, was the one in the conversation who was utterly flummoxed. "Why?"
Doofenschmirtz considered this. "Well, to be honest with you, I'm pretty sure it has to do with deep-seated self-esteem issues stemming back to childhood trauma -"
"No, I mean, like ..."
Fredzilla paused, old women and billboards and escaping villains and a world without a Santa Claus and cold San Fransokyo air suddenly all crowding him, all in the same room, all back
here, all at once.
"...why me?"
Doofenschmirtz stared at him for a long time. "Well," he finally said, "You've got skills. You've got potential. And, uh, to be frank with you, Zilla ... "
"Yeah?"
Doofenschmirtz thought some more. "Well, to be perfectly honest with you, you've got some information I want."
And screw the fuel source, because suddenly, the fire was alive and leaping from Fredzilla's chest, suddenly, here, for the first time in this conversation, the villain was the villain, the hero was the hero, and there was something he could
latch onto -
"Nice try!" Fredzilla said, sweeping his arm, booming his voice, bracing his ambitions, "But my heart and my head are tools of
justice! Your snake oil sales tactics will never make
me slither alongside you, or any other evildoer! The day that I tell you
anything you want to know is the day I hang up my horns and never breathe fire again!"
He plopped back down on the chair - ooh, soft - and crossed his arms, steadfast, stalwart, and true.
"You'll
never get anything out of me!"
"Oh ho," Doofenschmirtz said, raising an eyebrow. "That so?"
"Just so!" Fredzilla said. "Just
ice!"
Doofenschmirtz chuckled, low and leering. "Oh, Fredzilla. So assured of your place in the world. So certain of your tropes!" He leaned forwards. "You really think we
don't have ways of making you talk?"
"Torture me to your black heart's wicked content!" Fredzilla proclaimed. "I'll never tell you anything!"
"You sure about that?"
"Do your worst."
Doofenschmirtz pulled the cake out from under his desk. After a moment, he placed a fork down alongside it, on the plate. Another moment's time, and he slid it across the table. closer to Fredzilla.
One more moment's time was taken up by silence.
"So
this is why you offer dental," Fredzilla said, voice caught somewhere between revelation, disgustion (which was totally a word), and simple awe.
"A devilish scheme, is it not?" Doofenschmirtz's smile answered, curling like stink lines over a particularly pungent perfume.
Fredzilla gasped, hands flying to the cheeks of his costume, claws dragging down the expanse of his face. "And if I were to consume such a clear confectionery coaxing as this chocolate cake with creamcheese, I'd ..." A righteous scoff, a slam of the hand upon the table. The fork clattered. "I'll have to remove my
mask in order to eat! Thereby revealing to you, Doctor Doofenschmirtz, my secret identity, and giving you even more power over me than I've already allowed!"
"My evil plots are not only deliciously nefarious, but multi-layered!" Doofenschmirtz said, "Just as I'm sure you'll find this cake~"
"You villainous
fiend."
"Oh, well, I'm
flattered, really, but I-I-I wouldn't want to, you know, get between whatever it is you and Wasabi have going on. Made that mistake before - not
proud of it - and I gotta say, there just isn't enough money in the budget this year to hire Union people for backup dancers. And besides, you're my employee; just what would people
say if it got out that I was being thwarted by someone who was working for me?"
Fredzilla nodded. "I can respect that."
"Thank you for understanding," Doofenschmirtz said, before darkening. "Now, then, Fredzilla ... will you fall prey to my seduction of the innocent? Or do I have to bring out
Dungeons, Dungeons, & More Dungeons to get you to talk?"
Fredzilla scoffed, looking to the corner of the room. "Curse my lack of heroic willpower," he said, grabbing for the fork. "But no - an evildoer like you wouldn't have stopped until I was
broken, would you?"
"Or until our characters hit level 17," Doofenschmirtz shrugged. "But, eh, honestly, who's got that kinda time these days?"
Fredzilla nodded again. It was an apt observation, to give the devil his due, and ...
... he was stalling.
Like ripping off a bandaid. All at once, The zilla was torn away, leaving only Fred, looking surly and defiant even as he lifted the first bite of his cake to his mouth. "My compliments to the chef," he said, in a tone of grim, and dark, and
grimdark.
Doofenschmirtz chuckled evilly. "As I suspected," he gloated, resting his hands on the table, and leaning forwards. "A
young adult."
Curse this corporate criminal's conniving! He'd known
all along. "Ask your questions," he said, licking a crumble of frosting from the corner of his lips. "We'll see if I answer."
"Just the one," Doofenschmirtz said, leaning back into his seat. "One teensy, tiny, insignificant question - just one, I promise! - and you and that cake of yours will be free to go. A trade, you might call it, if you want to cease that chokehold on yourc conscience?"
"A trade?!" Fred shot back, increduous, though through his latest bite of cake it sounded more like "Acheed?!"
"Answer my question," Doofenschmirtz said, hand spreading slowly, as though to encompass every word he said, "And I'll, ah,
develop amnesia about the whole, you, trying to thwart me, thing?" The other arm spread, full, all at once, showman style. "Whaddya say? To sweeten the pot, I'll even deactivate the traps for you on the way out! ... well, uh, just this once."
"...one question, huh?"
"Just the one."
Fredzilla sat the plate aside, cake already half-gone. The very picture of heroic restraint. "So
ask it."
...one more bite.
Chomp.
Slowly, Doof's eyes narrowed, an uncharacteristic line of severity squeezed out of his lips by
hate alone.
"Who
is this ... 'Agent Unknown'?"
The
Narratively-Apt-Thunder-Inator went off, the light of lightning leaking through Doctor Doofenschmirtz's office windows, and Fred found himself musing, despite everything, that he was pretty sure he was gonna like it here.