SEE PART I

So our secret (and evil) organization had decided to arrive at a bar and prevent someone from drinking and driving. This was considered, by the way, the height of mischievousness. It was certainly another reason to fear the Legion of Doom (real name to be determined at a later date).

I didn’t like any of it because none of it involved the possibility of violence. But the last time I tried to break out on my own and perform a venomous evil deed, I ended up fracturing all the bones in my body. Bouncy castles are not, apparently, to be used in conjunction with plastic explosives. Certainly not when one is in said bouncy castle, along with a rocket launcher ordered over the Internet. And a pair of large pruning sheers from a prior adventure.

Obviously, I am no good at evil on my own.

So off we went, together in our Eco-Friendly Vehicle of Doom, fully prepared to find the most inebriated human being at the local bar and prevent them from driving.

We arrived at the cantina – I mean, bar – and stepped inside. We swept through the doors as a group, evil glares ready. This was also something we had been practicing lately. Entrances are very important, you know. People don’t forget first impressions. We must do our best to intimidate and demean from the outset, or it just gets awkward later. I’m sure you can imagine: “But I thought we were friends.” “No, no, I hate you and I want to steal your new pet puppy.” It’s much simpler if they understand your goals at the beginning, you see. That’s true in many life situations, so let that be a lesson to you.

Anyway, Lizardman scanned the dingy local bar. “Keep an eye out for a good target.”

We threw out suggestions.

“The wobbly guy on the bench?”

“Nah,” said Lizardman.

“The girl giggling uncontrollably in the corner?”

“Too nice.”

“The man glaring at us who obviously has a weapon?”

“Probably unwise.”

“That woman singing to herself next to the jukebox?”

“We don’t talk to people who can’t hold a note.”

“But I like her warble.”

“Quiet, Hammer.”

We kept searching around for the perfect drunk victim whose life we wanted to ruin by…well, whose life we wanted to ruin by saving, I guess. Then the Blade gasped and pointed. “Oooh, that man! Over there!”

Across the room stood a man with a pint of beer in one hand and his car keys in another. He danced a lurching jig on one of the tables, all while singing about how he loved driving in dangerous swerves on the way home after a long night drinking. He may as well as have been wearing a t-shirt that said, “I am a danger to others and myself.” Actually, I think he did.

Lizardman nodded. “That’s our guy.”

We walked up to him, arms crossed and evil glares fully glaring. “You’re coming with us,” said Lizardman.

“Waaah,” the guy said. “No, I’m not…I’m driving home.”

“Nope. Give us your keys.”

“And your kittens,” added Squiggles.

The guy tottered to the left, to the right, and back to the middle. “No.”

Lizardman sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Guy.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Guy Smith.”

Let me just say that I hated his name. His parents lacked creativity. But back to the story.

Lizardman looked at him calmly. “Okay, Guy, here’s how it is: you are going to give us your keys and we are going to drive you safely home.”

We laughed evilly in unison.

“No,” Guy said again. He stumbled off his table and pushed Lizardman backward.

“THAT’S IT!” I shouted, and I grabbed the nearest bottle, broke it against a chair, and waved it menacingly at Guy Stupidname.

Conan grunted his disapproval and picked me up. It was like being yanked up into a tree. My legs dangled. “LET ME GO!”

The Hammer frowned at me. “Conan and I are very disappointed. You show a great lack of patience.”

“Your face shows a great lack of patience.”

“Don’t be petty now.”

“I’ll be as petty as I want, thank you.”

Our half-ninja, Darin, pointed out that Guy was trying to slip away while we were arguing. The Blade ran over and tackled him while Squiggles snatched his keys away. She also took his wallet, his shoes, and a neon sign from the wall. They let him stand up.

“Hey,” Guy protested, staring down at his socks. “That’s not…fair…”

Lizardman shook his head. “We are driving you safely home.”

“Safely,” Darin echoed. Everyone nodded. I hefted my broken bottle, which Conan finally took from me. With one hand. He wouldn’t put me down.

Now, you wouldn’t think that a man in socks could move very fast, but Guy somehow could. Before we knew what was happening, he launched himself at Lizardman and tried to throw him to the ground. Lizardman, being part lizard, slipped out of the way – but not before Guy accidentally slammed into a bar patron standing behind us. Then everything went insane.

If you have ever watched a fight while helplessly dangling from your friend’s arms, trying to squirm free so you can join in, then you know how surprisingly difficult it is to see the action. It was as if the bar exploded in a blur of fists and breaking glass. One second, I saw The Hammer fly by holding a hammer – as if someone had launched him using a canon – and the next second, I watched as Squiggles ducked beneath a table and tripped Guy as he tried to escape out the door. A dagger flew by my head, and I had to figure that was The Blade’s work.

I desperately wanted to be a part of the action, but Conan was too strong and appeared unaffected by my childish kicking. It wasn’t fair. Then Lizardman slid by us as if he had been kicked, and Conan decided he needed to take care of our other friends. He picked me up and hooked me on the coatrack by the wall, so now I hung uselessly by my jacket. I shouted at him, but he didn’t care. He vanished into the chaos.

The funny thing about the chaos is that our little band of evil was busy trying to drag Guy to safety. I bet you’ve never seen such a violent attempt at nonviolence. I yelled and yelled that I would take care of everything peacefully if someone just helped me down, but they didn’t trust me and the brass knuckles I had brought out of my pocket. Which is just as well, you know. I was lying.

By the time I finally slid out of my jacket, Squiggles had stolen two more neon signs and Conan was carrying Guy outside by the scruff of his neck. Everyone followed Conan gleefully. I stopped to kick a bar patron in the shin before trailing outside.

Out in the cold night air, Guy had miraculously freed himself and started sprinting toward his car with his keys. We ran after him. That man was just too fast in his socks, though, and it became clear he would reach his car first.

Except his car exploded.

Guy skidded to a halt and let out a strangled cry. “My car!”

I laughed, another grenade in hand. Conan took it from me.

Lizardman shook his head at me. “We were going to take care of his car.”

“That’s what I did,” I said. “I took care of it.”

“It’s a twisted mess of metal and fire.”

“It’s awesome.”

The Hammer shrugged. “It is kind of awesome.”

We all stood and stared at the wreckage. Squiggles wondered aloud if anyone had marshmallows; the Blade answered that if we did, Squiggles had undoubtedly already stolen them.

“My car,” Guy muttered in shock.

“Actually, I was aiming for you,” I explained. “You should be happy.”

He whimpered. Then he bolted, off into the night. We chased him again, but Darin had already thought of this. Suddenly, our Eco-Friendly Vehicle of Doom appeared on the horizon and cut off Guy as he ran. He slammed into the side of the car and slid pathetically to the ground. We picked him up and put him in the car. Squiggles took his socks.

We drove him home. Well, he was unconscious, so we guessed where he lived. And we dropped him in what might have been his yard. With his keys. Even though his car was probably still on fire.

“A job well done,” The Hammer said.

We nodded, proud of ourselves.

Lizardman looked thoughtful. “Well, it occurs to me that the police might be angry at us.”

“Finally,” I said. The Blade hit me on the back of the head. “Ow!”

“It’s a problem,” Lizardman explained. “They’ll be after us even though we didn’t start that crazy fight.”

“We kind of did blow up a car,” Darin pointed out.

“And severely injure Guy,” The Hammer added.

“We’ll have to go into hiding,” Lizardman said.

Squiggles looked worried. “How can we possibly hide from them? Where can we go that they will never suspect us and our evil deeds?”

And that’s how we joined the theology department.

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