Oculor never liked to swallow his pride--partly because he had no esophagus, but mostly because it meant descending from his self-made pedestal of City's Best Villain and asking for the help of a "lesser" fiend. His current slice of humble pie involved knocking on the door of a crochety retired mad scientist.
It was a rare sunny day in Huge City's Evil Section, and Oculor was rocking on his heels on the porch of one Dr. Abraham Annelido, alias Doctor Squirm. Oculor rang the doorbell for the eighth time, unable to look into the painted-over living room window. Just as his finger approached the button for the ninth ring, a muffled, grumpy old voice could be heard getting closer to the front door: "Ah, hold yer horses, dagnabbit, I'm coming."
The door opened with an unpleasant squishing sound. One half of a pink, bespectacled, noseless face peeked out. "If yer from them Luthor's Witnesses, you can take your literature and--"
"No, it's nothing like that," Oculor said, holding his hand up. "I'm--well, you may have heard of me. I'm..." he paused for dramatic effect, "Oculor."
The old man blinked, his already wrinkly brow furrowing even more. "Nope, never heard of ya." The door slammed.
"Right."
Oculor blasted the door into smoldering splinters and walked in. He had to step lively to avoid his heavy mechanical body sinking into the floor, which wasn't so much a floor as a bed of moist soil. The house was dank, dark and humid; a misty fog hung in the air at eye level. Nevertheless, it was decorated in stereotypical senior fashion; fading black-and-white photographs of Squirm's past capers adorned the walls, antique furniture was planted firmly in the soil, and bits and pieces of failed doomsday devices were scattered about.
One particular detail of the house's interior that was hard to overlook was its occupant, who was now screaming in Oculor's face.
"What in the tarnation of flibbityjibbit do ya think you're doin', ya young punk whippersnapper...punk?"
Squirm, who was bascially a giant earthworm with a human face, had reared up like a cobra to stare down Oculor.
"Look," Oculor said, not in the least bit intimidated by an overgrown bait shop reject, "I need your help to beat Ultimate Man. I would've sent you a handwritten note on my special stationery, but I didn't have the time. So either help me or help me."
"Wait a second," Squirm said, giving Oculor a one-eyed glare. "You gave me the same option twice!"
"Actually I didn't. Option one is you helping me of your own volition. Option two is you helping me by me kidnapping you and bringing you back to my lair to force you to help me at gunpoint. See, there are subtle differences."
"I see. Well..." That was all Squirm said before he retreated into the earth.
"Fantastic." Oculor switched his eye to X-ray mode and scanned the ground. A large object filled his field of vision before bursting out of the earth, throwing Oculor out of the house.
As Oculor scrambled to his feet, several robots made to look like giant metallic ants emerged from the house, clicking their razor-sharp mandibles at him.
Meanwhile, Doctor Squirm was rising out of his front lawn, cackling dryly. "I'm an old hand at this, boy," he said. "You think I'm smart enough to help you with your little hero problem, but not smart enough to keep my house defended from pushy little punk villains like you? You'll have to get through my ant-bots first!"
"Ant-bots." Still incapable of facial expression, Oculor pulled off a rather convincing blank look at the lion-sized robotic ants. "Really. This is--this is all you have, huh? Maybe I came to the wrong--"
A bolt of electricty lashed out from the antennae of an ant-bot, hitting Oculor squarely in the chest and sending him hurtling into the street. Before he could get his bearings, he found himself tumbling over the hood, then the roof, then the trunk of a speeding car, followed by a reacquaintance with the pavement.
Hot Rod Lincoln, a rather odd villain who dressed up like Abraham Lincoln and drove suped-up cars, leaned out of his window (while still driving) and shook his fist at Oculor.
Oculor pushed up from the ground, stood up, dusted himself off. "That's it," he growled. "No more playing around."
To be continued...
