Alfred Quenton, Villain Extraordinaire: Part One

     "We're busy." The Camouflage Jetsam didn't bother to glance up. "Why don't you go blow something up in the lab again?"

     Immediately, the Korbat tensed. One incident of a defective stun gun and he was dubbed a mad scientist.

      "I had explained to him that model wasn't ready!" He crossed his arms defensively; after all, he hadn't been the Neopet to fire it. "That son of yours never hears a word I say!"

      A grunt was the only reply. Everyone knew that the reckless Flotsam felt invincible due to his family ties high in the business: his father never took the accusations seriously and his uncle, notoriously irresponsible as a role model, found it amusing.

      As if reading the Korbat's thoughts, the Draik fidgeted, his sharp mind searching for a reason to kick him out of the office.

     "My brother and I are buried in this dreadful paperwork." The Draik's charm radiated from his slick smile. "I could certainly go for a hot cup of coffee. Wouldn't it be nice if someone was useful for once and did that for us?"

     The Korbat's lip curled at his tone. "Fetch your own coffee, Silver Tongue! I came to tell you that I quit!"

     A stack of paper slid off the table.

     "Very funny." The Jetsam bared his rows of teeth. "Be a good boy and get us some coffee."

      "No!" He glared back at the Draik. "I refuse to be an employee of an establishment that refuses to acknowledge my potential."

      "For Fyora's sake!" The Jetsam groaned. "I am not going to sit through an hour presentation every time you have a 'great, world-changing, mind-boggling idea!'"

      "And what would you do once you quit?" The Draik nonchalantly retrieved a fallen folder. "I suppose there's always an open position as a busboy."

      "Laugh all you want, but I have plans!" Cackling hysterically, the Korbat's wild eyes unnerved the two. "Big plans for all of Neopia!"

      Stalking out, he went thinking of the chaos he would cause.

     ~~*~~

      Slowly, the Korbat drummed his fingers together staring at the cracks in the wall. Breathing deeply, he waited. The swivel chair, which was faced backwards, creaked softly. One lamp was switched on to reveal his face when he turned around. With dark hazel eyes narrowed in what he assumed was an appropriately villainous way, he listened as his entire staff shuffled in the cramped, drafty room. He counted five seconds before beginning.

      Ah, Alfred. He grinned, baring his fangs. Your genius tactics amaze even yourself! How could one so handsome, so incredibly devious ever fail?

      "You must be wondering why I have called you all here," Alfred Quenton, the Island Korbat, said, starting to spin the chair. "You see- Ack!"

      Yelping, the disgruntled Korbat broke off from his planned lengthy ramble when he used much more force than necessary on the battered office chair. After five rotations, he was able to find his voice. He demanded between spins,

     "Bennett,"

     Squeak squeak squeak

     "Stop-"

     Squeak squeak squeak

     "This chair-"

     Squeak squeak squeak

     "AT ONCE!"

     Squeak squeak squeak

      The tall Faerie Grarrl, standing nearby, merely lifted an eyebrow. Reaching out with a massive paw, he jolted the chair and its occupant to a stop.

      Dizzily, Alfred slouched down, watching the room wobble. Two-thirds of the employees were rather unresponsive from the chaos. This was actually unsurprising since his "entire staff" consisted of three neopets: his bodyguard, Bennett, Ophelia, a scatterbrained Pteri, and Spike, an adolescent Darigan Flotsam. Unfortunately for Alfred's pride, numerous embarrassments like this incident had happened recently.

      Smirking, Spike prodded the Pteri, who was half asleep, with a flipper. "So can we leave or are you going to plot the landlord's-excuse me-your nemesis' downfall again?"

      Grumbling, Alfred felt his fur bristle. "Indubitably, it is disappointing that the only available space is this dilapidated building, but I assure you, we shall purchase better! Our cheapskate of a landlord will soon regret igniting the ire of Alfred Quenton!"

      "You take yourself way too seriously, don't you?" Spike snorted, shaking his head.

      Ophelia woke with a start, her blue feathers ruffled. "I don't know where the doughnuts are, officer! I swear!"

      Rubbing his pounding temples, Alfred struggled to reign in his frustration. Evil Tip #12: Good subordinates are obedient, submissive, and above all respectful.

      "Pay attention!" Perching on the edge, the Korbat leaned forward, unbalancing his testy chair. "This is a very import-"

      The chair toppled, sending Alfred face down onto the smooth, wooden desk.

      Roaring with laughter, Spike nearly fell over while Ophelia nodded off back to her dream of missing pastries. Picking himself up, he glared at the Flotsam, rubbing his sore muzzle.

      We're never going to be taken seriously if we don't improve, he thought ruefully. I didn't take all those years at the academy for nothing....

     "Listen up, minions!" The Korbat hopped up on the sturdier desk and struck what he thought was an intimidating pose. "We are not a threat to society. Yet. I will lead us to such great nefarious-ness that it will mark our League in history books forever!"

     "Big words." Spike yawned. "Any bite behind that bark?"

     "Indeed." Alfred snapped his fingers at the snoring Pteri. "Ophelia! Go with the smart aleck delinquent and purchase us a lair. I will initiate some new members. Bennett, I have a job for you! You must buy me a petpet. I need something to stroke when I am sitting in my chair.... Evil Tip #4: Delivery is everything!"

     The Faerie Grarrl's thick, dark shades made it impossible to interpret the look in his eyes. While his countenance did not seem to change, his jaw tightened just a bit.

     "You have your assignments! Move out!"

     ~~*~~

     Alfred sulked around the bazaar, his fur pricking with moisture under his expensive jacket. He couldn't believe the nerve of that Food Shop salesman, claiming that his money was counterfeit. Those were real Sloth dollars--any fool could've seen that.

     Glaring at the snickering group of children, who had watched his desperate retreat from the raging shopkeeper, he slunk down the first path he saw. That Chia may have been short, but it was a quite impressive talent to use his arsenal of cooking supplies as weapons.

     "When I take over Neopia, I shall punish that incompetent simpleton!" he declared out loud, confusing any passing by Neopets. "And I shall ban weather that is too hot. Sweating is beneath me!"

     Two Neopets, who were sitting on a bench drinking smoothies, overheard him.

     "Hey, if you're hot, buy a drink." Slurping down his large ice creamy jelly smoothie, the green Ogrin causally tossed the empty container away. "They're the best in town."

     "Yeah," the red Lupe agreed between slurps of his mega carmelon smoothie. "Greg even gives us a discount."

     Alfred had hardly bothered to listen to what they said. "Monstrous Lupe and skinny Ogrin boy, you are about to receive a once-in-a-lifetime offer! Although you may be pathetic and wimpy now, I will mold you into mighty villains to be feared and respected. All you have to do is sign here and here. It's just your typical pledge of total allegiance agreement that I am not accountable for any injuries out in the field and my right to use you, my minion, in testing (possibly) dangerous weapons."

     "What?" The Lupe blinked.

     "I think he's trying to pressure us into enrolling in his evil army." His companion shrugged unperturbed. "No thanks, man."

     "'No thanks?' Did you think that it was optional?" Alfred's temper began to rise. "The name League Of Super Evil Radical Schemers will be legendary! No one would turn down-"

     "Come again?" The Ogrin frowned.

     Beaming, Alfred flung off his jacket to display his custom made T-shirt underneath. "I told them the shirts were an excellent idea! Our name will strike dismay in our enemy's hearts-now in a convenient acronym."

     The ugly bright yellow pattern burned their eyes and the magenta letters didn't help.

     The Lupe tilted his head, emerald eyes wide. "Didn't you notice that spells out L.O.S.E.R.S?"

     "Impossible! I would never-" He glanced at it in shock. "But, but.... I already ordered ten shipments! I can't return them... and I finally perfected the design."

     "Well, mister, it's been real.... weird talking to you." The Ogrin tugged on the Lupe's collar, urgently. "We have to go now."

     He watched them hurry away. Before he could speak about the insurance benefits, they were gone.

     Dismally, the Korbat sat on the vacated bench, ignoring the squish of old gum on his tail. Perhaps, for once, my minions have had more success than I.

     ~~*~~

     Sliding out of her seat, Ophelia jolted awake. Confused, she wiped cream puff filling from her wings. Gazing around, the blue Pteri realized that she was in an abandoned ice cream factory.

     "Good." Spike emerged from the shadows. "You've finally woken up. What's been wrong with you lately?"

     She fingered her pearl necklace. "I was testing sleeping powder potions. Some must have gotten in my coffee. Interesting fact I learned from my personal experience; the caffeine reacted negatively and I believe th-"

     "Don't care," the Flotsam interrupted abruptly. "Help me get this furniture in our new lair."

     "What?" Ophelia squawked. "I don't know if Alfred will approve of-"

     "Sure he will." Smirking, he waved at the creepy atmosphere of the neglected factory. "Plus it was fairly cheap since no person in their right mind would want it."

     "And so you bought it?"

     "Of course!" A mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes as he crossed his arms. "It's perfect for our beloved 'Master Overlord Quenton.'"

     Troubled with the sharp sarcasm in his voice, she didn't know how to reply. Unperturbed by her silence, Spike had already begun to wheel objects inside. Dusty, old arcade machines, air hockey tables, movie posters, candy/soda dispensers and bean bag chairs littered the floor.

     "Samuel Gillsworth!" Ophelia scolded the wincing Flotsam. "Do not tell me you spent all the Neopoints on junk you wanted!"

     "Chill out," he snarled, unhappy with her using his real name. "I bought some boring stuff too."

     "Oh." She paused. Knowing of his explosive temper and unwilling to drag on the argument further, she pacified herself. Ophelia sighed. She would have to be the bigger Neopet, like usual, so things could get done. Reaching for a bean bag she began, "After we finish putting away your things-"

     "No!" Spike reacted obviously flustered. The Pteri stared at him. After taking a deep breath, the Flotsam started again in a calmer manner, "No, I'll get this. You can plan where everything else is going to be. Alfred gave you instructions, didn't he?"

     "Yes." She unfolded them hesitantly.

     "So, that's all figured out then." He smiled briefly before ducking behind some boxes.

     "Not quite," murmured Ophelia to herself, studying the Flotsam's suspicious actions. He was hiding something. Something important. Or am I just paranoid? She wondered. I did suspect for years that Dr. Sloth was attempting to slowly poison with spoiled cheese at Pizzaroo.... then I found out I was lactose intolerant.

     Shrugging, she began to unpack.

     ~~*~~

     With the sun beating down overhead, Alfred shuffled back to the office building sipping a small apple cinnamon smoothie. This is absolutely delicious, he thought. Although I appreciated those boys' recommendation, I shall still have to hunt then down to have my revenge. No one makes a fool out of Alfred Quenton!

     Suddenly, he tripped over a long yellow shoe on the sidewalk and splattered sweet-smelling smoothie everywhere.

     Leaping up, he turned to the bewildered owner of the shoe. "What is the meaning of this atrocity? That, sir, was an excellent beverage you just ruined! Now, I fully support the evil brotherhood-in fact I lead my own organization-but this....! This was an act of pure cruelty!" He broke off suddenly. "Why are you dressed in such a ridiculous fashion?"

     "Alfred!" The pink Kacheek bounced up, his orange wig barely clinging to his head. "I'd recognize your rantings anywhere! Don't you remember me?"

     "Oh." Narrowing his eyes, the Korbat gazed at the poorly designed purple and yellow villain attire. The stark white face paint and rubber red nose struck a memory instantly. "Yes. Mr. Chuckles, how... fortunate to meet you here. Have you been up to any dastardly and horrific schemes lately?"

     "Er, not quite." Hastily, the clown shoved at his wig, which merely slid to drape from his other ear. "But you said you have founded a villain's league? I'm... currently searching for a boost for my many evil plans."

     "Of course," he responded quickly, attempting to come up with an escape from where this conversation was heading. But what choice do I have? We really are this desperate.

     "Would you consider a-"

     "YES!" Awkwardly, Mr. Chuckles cleared his throat. "Yes, it would be a good business opportunity."

     Watching Mr. Chuckles stuff all his harmless looking weapons into a surprisingly tiny multicolored bag, Alfred felt a surge of optimism. Recruiting isn't that difficult after all. And I can concede that the clown isn't too irritable.

     "Do you know how little respect villains get now-a-days? I fought Judge Hog! I can bake mind controlling pie! How am I not a serious villain? Well, I am a clown so serious may not be the best word to describe-"

     But still irritable enough, Giving the excited clown a glare, Alfred strode off.

     Rounding a corner, he passed by a green Blumaroo, eating by himself at a restaurant. The waiter was serving the only other customer, who was hidden behind an unfurled newspaper. He approached the lonely looking Neopet confidently.

     "Is your life a bore? Do you desire more that dull law abiding citizenship cannot fulfill? Join the League Of Super-" The Korbat's ears twitched. "Join my top secret league and I guarantee your life will be interesting!"

     "What?" The Blumaroo adjusted his large, thick glasses. "Top secret league? I don't understand what you are talking about."

     Gritting his teeth, Alfred hissed in frustration, "If you were aware of the existence of my secret league, it wouldn't be a secret, would it?"

     "I guess." Wary, he scooted away. "Look, I'm just Harry from accounting. I think you must want someone else."

     "Perfect!" The Korbat rubbed his paws together. "Your villain back-story is all coming together! Sad, sad Larry had no friends and spent all his days slaving over his desk, dreaming of receiving the recognition he deserves. A handsome and incredibly gifted mastermind enters with an offer to make his dream a reality."

     "Um, my name is Harry and I do have friends." Uncomfortable, Harry glanced around to signal the waiter.

     "Jerry, I've been there. No, your "friends" aren't all conveniently "busy" whenever you throw a party or go out or start a league of evil." Alfred was enjoying his use of air quotes.

     "It's Harry. And I like my job!"

     "I'll see you soon, Barry." Digging his limited edition Pant Devil pen out of his pocket, the Korbat wrote the office address on the napkin.

     "What makes you think I would show up?" Indignant, the frazzled Blumaroo stood, waving his arms.

     "Because I stole your wallet," replied Alfred over his shoulder. "And don't bother calling the Defenders. I have my lair covered in traps!"

     Evil Tip #27: A bluff can be just as effective as a real threat.

     ~~*~~

     Bennett, leaning against the rough brick wall, waited in the alley. Elizabeth, his gruslen, growled softly from the shadows. Distant figures rushed past in the muffled noise of a busy day. The familiarity of the scene brought up memories-memories he didn't like to think about anymore. That was before. Now I'm just that fool's thug. Slapping a tin can with his thick tail, the Grarrl watched as it rattled and bounced. My reputation took years to achieve and only seconds to crumble. Sighing, he straightened his tie.

     "Hello?" A Disco Mynci stepped out of the side door. "Ah, I wasn't sure you'd show."

     The silence of the alley-broken only by the cool whispers of the wind- stretched on as Bennett did not reply.

     "I wasn't sure..... you know." The Mynci fidgeted. "Because you and Claire had that awful fight."

     "Yes." Curtly, he gestured the loudly colored Mynci to stop. "Did you do what I asked?"

     "I have the petpets, but..." he said and turned to the Grarrl, who towered over him. "You have to promise you aren't going to...."

     "No, I told you I will return the ones he doesn't want." The Grarrl snorted in disgust. "I don't eat petpets, Kane."

     "Alright." Handing over the box, Kane added, "Return the others tomorrow."

     "Fine." Bennett exited with Elizabeth close on his heels. He blended in with the bustling crowd. I can fix things. Everything. I just need time.

To be continued...