Challenge three is my kind of mission. I'm on the run from an evil paper company (and Ukrainian textile subsidiary) and have recently packed up my family and myself and relocated to ██████ █████. We even changed our name slightly. But this challenge would not only utilize those relocation skills, it would be way more fun.
"Quick!" I yelled at The Haitian. "Look for secret lairs in the newspaper classifieds."
Meanwhile, I put the girls to work on an eye-catching sign. Nothing says secret lair like a sign that says "Secret Lair".
The Haitian and I set off to have a look at what was available. Our first stop: The Technodrome, for sale by owner.
"Does the place come staffed with Pig Guy and Rhino Guy?" I asked the owner.
"Ccccccertainly!" he squealed.
"Hey, boss, that ain't nice!" The rhino responded.
"No, *snort*" said Pig Man. "Not fair at all."
"Sssso, what DO you ssAy?" the little brain burped.
I replied, "I moved out of Texas to get away from mobile homes," and it was off to the next stop.
The Keebler Tree.
The owners were all very pleasant.
"More cookies?" One of the little guys asked.
"Yes, please!" The Haitian clapped enthusiastically.
The younger elves left to the kitchen to fetch more snacks. As soon as they were in the other room, the old elf spoke up. "Please," he begged, "don't buy my tree. I don't want to sell it. It is full of Keebler family magic."
"So, why do you have it for sale?" I asked the diminutive octogenarian.
"My grandchildren, the fiendish brats! They want to get a place in the city, said they'd put me in a home and take away my cookie factory if I didn't sell."
The tree wasn't suitable for my needs; it was much to small for my evil plans and most my henchmen. But I sensed an opportunity for some senseless malice. When the little guys came back, I said, "I'll buy it!"
We continued on to stop number three: The former Enron headquarters.
"I should warn you," the realtor said, "so you can't sue me if something happens."
"What is it?"
"The former owners stockpiled fuel in the basement. I'm not sure why, decorating....a hobby...driving up energy prices. Who knows? Anyway, there's an exhaust port in the yard. A single spark could, if it falls inside, could destroy the entire place.
"Good," I said. Such a vulnerability would no doubt draw would-be super heroes to my lair in a vain attempt to save the galaxy where I can then ambush them with my deadly cheerleaders!...and TIE Fighters! I need to get me some TIE Fighters.
We moved into the building. The sign looked great. I wired the entire place to have cool monitors for my underlings to receive orders on. We also installed gun turrets on the roof.
"Now, all we need is business cards." I looked at The Haitian. "Chop down my Keebler tree and send it off to be made into magical business cards." While he was off doing my bidding, my evil bidding, I went outside to personally see to the trap for my arch nemesis.
I began pouring toxic waste into my yard. It ran down the street. Before long, the brats would show up.
"Wait for them to do their little ring chant before attacking," I commanded over my superior A/V system.
Just as expected they showed up.
"Wait for it..."
"Now!" I shouted. My cheerleaders leaped from the 2nd floor windows as my soon-to-be arch-nemesis shouted from afar, "By your powers combined..."
He flew on scene only to find the beaten remnants of his cadre of eco-fools.
"Ah, Captain Planet," I said from the top floor. My voice carried over my superior PA system. "Please, do come in. Let's have a talk."
"You'll pay for killing the Planeteers,!" he yelled up at me. "Whoever you are, I'll make you pay for the mess you've made."
"Big deal. They're bio-degradable."
Captain Planet flew up to the top floor and smashed through the window. He was stunned to see that I was merely a monitor, as though he never had that pulled on him before. While he was in shock, I hit a button in the next room. The floor fell from underneath him and a giant net (good for dolphin hunting) fell from the ceiling.
Unable to fly, he landed in the pile of garbage below. It was a fitting end for this recycling retard. I had him trapped.
"Now, let's, like, kill him and stuff!" Kandi suggested.
"Not so fast. Let's turn on the trash compactor. A slow, unobserved death would be best for that liberal nut-job."
"What if you, like, regret it?"
"The only thing I regret is not making a Nemonok joke during the scene with Krang."