Nemonok: I win

Dr. Nemonok rolls up onto the stage.

Nemonok: Ahem. Before I address everyone tonight, I have an announcement to make. Will the owner of the dull gray dropship tail number NX342 please move your vehicle, it is parked in a loading zone. Thank you.

Ladies, gentlemen, mutants, and criminals everywhere. I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart, er the bottom of my nutrient containment exchanger system for awarding me this great honor. By allowing me to win, you have of course declared the obvious that I am the most evil of them all. Thank you.

I would like to take this time to thank the gracious host, Captain Koma, for allowing me to participate today. Koma, you are a brilliant but petty, bitter man. If that’s what it takes for you to be evil, then by all means, roll with it, doctor.

I would also like to thank the judges, the Henchman and Deadpool. My good men, there is certainly room in my master, the malevolent dark lord Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord’s organization for two men of your caliber. It is of course dangerous work, but the rewards are certainly worth it.

Lyn, it is unfortunate that your life has taken a turn like it has. I always found you to be a good looking and very competent actress. Hell, I loved you in Freaky Friday. It is too bad that you chose the path that you have.

Commander Oneida, I am not sure why you guest judged as you are clearly not evil. You do work for an evil government though, and I am proud to see you continue to serve them. Keep up the good work.

Army of (Cl)One, it was an honor besting you in the competition. You are a worthy champion in your own right and good luck to you at your new post guarding the detention center of the Death Star.

To my henches, you have served me well in this competition. You all deserve what is coming to you and I will address that before I leave.

(Music starts to play)

Bah, thank you everyone, I do feel super tonight. You hate me, you really hate me!

(Microphone cuts out)

Nemonok: Power to the people

I’ve been involved with doomsday devices in my day. I have to admit that I’m not a big fan of them, if you kill everyone on the planet, there would be nobody left to psychoanalyze. Despite that, there’s a certain elegance to the totality of the doomsday device. If you’re going to destroy your planet, you can do it in style.

But what kind of a doomsday device should I use? There are many to choose from: cobalt bombs, planet eaters, hyperspace bombs, Death Stars, mass drivers, Trilithium torpedoes, NOVA bombs, Galactic Implosion Devices, Vogon Constructor Ships, ice-nine. The list goes on and on.

For this task, however, I need something tailor made for where we’ll be.

My henches and I flew to the People’s Republic of China in my Shadow Stealthship where I began to work immediately on something that would suit our needs.

“Hey Doctor, you got any shrimp?” Bob the Goon interrupted my work.

“Yes, there is a plate in the microwave.”

“I knew it!” Bob pulled a plate of breaded coconut shrimp from the oven and left the room munching happily.

“Are we gonna blow up the place?” Apocalypto Pickle asked as he watch me running computations. “I can make a big explosion.”

“Yes, an explosion would be nice, but not suitable to our needs right now.”

“Well, what’s it going to be?” Iron Butterfly asked.

“Something so destructively evil that even I am surprised that I thought of it.”

“Really,” Gun Nut sniffed snidely. “Few things you do surprise me.”

“It is finished. Now, let us pay a visit to the government.”

We flew to Beijing and easily broke into the office of President Hu Jintao, defeating his guards easily. We were fortunate that Premier Wen Jiabao was there as well as it would make this easier.

“Gentlemen, it is good to meet with you today.”

“What are you doing here?” the president demanded. “Who are you people?”

“Let me introduce myself, I am Dr. Nemonok and I would like to show you the one thing that will bring this country to its knees. The one thing that will bring you to your knees.”

“You are a fool,” Premier Wen Jiabao said. “You may have defeated the troops here, but you have the entire nation’s military to contend with now.”

“Do I?”

I activated the controls and the construct hummed to life. Shortly thereafter, shapely Chinese women began to emerge from it.

“What is that?” Hu Jintao demanded.

“Your new Chinese cloning facility. I engineered the clones myself, normally I stay away from the filthy abominations but in this instance, I couldn’t resist.”

“Well, they certainly are good looking,” Wen Jiabao leered.

“Yes, they are. Their genetic makeup has also been altered a bit. I isolated some of the unique characteristics of tribbles. These clones are designed to do little more than to eat and reproduce.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping them with the reproducing,” chuckled the premier.

“Oh of course not, but they will only reproduce women.”

“Only women?” asked the president. “We cannot have women overrun our country. We are so overpopulated already.”

“Indeed. It would soon be very difficult to handle another 1.3 billion, wouldn’t it? Feeding, educating, housing, and everything else. You would soon be stepping over the bodies of your dead.”

“You’re a madman!” yelled the premier.

“A madman am I? No no, I am just the disembodied brain of the galaxy’s greatest psychiatrist contained within a nutrient rich jar. Oh, and if necessary, I could turn up the cloning production a bit.”

“No, please don’t,” said that president. “What do you want?”

“Simple. Kneel before Dr. Nemonok.”

“What?”

“Bow down to Dr. Nemonok.”

Begrudgingly, the two Chinese politicians dropped to their knees in front of me.

“Nice job, boss,” Iron Butterfly chuckled to me.

“Heh, I’ve done better.”

Nemonok: A meeting of the minds

I had made it to the final two, and without winning any of these challenges, I might add. Interesting how the clone just got two wins in a row. If I were the paranoid type, I might accuse the judges of malfeasance, though I am sure that is not the case as it is apparent to me that they do not know the meaning of the word.

I am an evil mastermind, but I am also a gentleman (or a gentlebrain, as I have heard many times before), and as a gentleman, I will certainly congratulate Army of (Cl)one on his win and making the finals. As there is not better time than the present, I rolled my brain containment case right up next to him. He was busy working on some business or whatnot I do not know, it was of no concern of mine.

“Ahh!” he yelled. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that! I coulda shot you.”

“Mr. Clone, congratulations on your second immunity and on making it to the finals.”

“Thanks,” he said warily. “Congratulations on making it to the final yourself.”

“Good luck on the final challenge as well.”

“Yeah,” he looked at me a little cockeyed. At least I am fairly sure that it was cockeyed, it’s hard to tell through that helmet. “Good luck to you, too.”

“Please, please, put yourself at ease. I am just here to congratulate you. We may be evil masterminds and in the middle of a fierce competition, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be gentlemen about it.”

“Yeah, or gentlebrain,” he replied.

“Yes, yes, I have heard that before. Anyway, very nice to see you.” Heh heh, I may be a mastermind, but this clone certainly has a long way to go before he could ever be anywhere near my league.

“Yes,” he replied. “Very nice to see you, too.”

“And I will be going.” I rolled my containment unit back slightly.

“And I will be going as well,” he replied and took a step back.

“Very well. Good day to you, sir.” I slid back another meter.

“And good day to you as well,” he replied as he took another step back.

“Unfortunately, I must get going. I have a doomsday device to make and all.” I slid back a bit more.

“As do I, as do I,” he replied and took another step back.

“So I will be off, then.”

“Me too.”

“Are you going to turn and walk away?”

“Maybe,” he replied suspiciously. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Then go ahead.”

“Very well, I shall.” I slid back a bit more.

“And so shall I,” he replied and took a step back.

“Ah, this is foolishness. Of course you are not going to shoot me in the back, I don’t have a back.”

“And you’re not going to shoot me in the back,” he answered. “You can’t carry a gun.”

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

“Well go ahead.”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Very well. Good day to you sir.” I quickly slid out of the room. The door glided closed behind me and I chuckled to myself maniacally. “Heh heh heh. He never suspected what I did to him.”

“Good day to you as well!” I heard him call out through the closed door. I thought that I heard him chuckle maniacally as well. It must have been the door sliding shut.

Nemonok: Silent Night, Holy Terror

“Oh, Nemmy, wasn’t the party on the Enterprise wonderful?” Gun Nut interrupted my brooding as she threw her arms around my brain containment jar.

An evil mastermind such as me needs his brooding time. I find this new challenge is, for lack of a better term, challenging. Should I shoot Santa’s sled from the skies? Should I travel back in time to prevent the birth of this planet’s savior? Should I fly into the city and steal all the presents? All this seems too easy. I need something special. Something that will really put this planet on its proverbial ear.

“Not now, Gun Nut. Can’t you see that this is my brooding time? I have a challenge to prepare for.”

“But it’s Christmas,” she continued. “It’s the most magical time of the year! I even got you something. Here.”

I looked at the elaborately decorated box, then looked at my female companion, then looked at the box again.

“How am I supposed to open that?”

“Fine, I’ll open it for you,” she said still smiling. She tore the wrappings off and held up some sort of a control box in front of me. “It’s a Nintendo Wii! I stole it for you myself. These things are so much fun.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is, but how am I to play it? I cannot hold the controller.”

Gun Nut’s smile dropped and she looked at me. “Well it’s the thought, you know. For Christmas, it’s not just about what you get, it’s about what the giver gives you. One year, my dad gave me a pound of pork chops. They were delicious, even though that didn’t stop me from shooting him a few years later, I guess. It’s the thought.”

“Very well, thank you for your thoughtful gift. Now please give me a moment to ponder this challenge.”

“Ugh!” My maniacal, gun toting assassin threw the box down in an uncharacteristic fit of rage. “Do you even like me anymore? Sometimes I think all that you care about is your stupid plans. You’ve never even met my parents.”

“Of course I like you. When in your presence, my brain containment fluid temperature rises 6 to 9 degrees and the electrical activity of my brain itself increases 11 percent. Clearly that shows how I feel for you. Additionally, I cannot meet your parents; you killed them both years ago.”

“My mom’s still alive,” she sobbed and stomped out of my office, shoving past Apocalypto Pickle along the way.

“Hey boss, what’s with her?” he asked.

“Bah, women, you can’t live with them and you can’t remove their brains and force them to live disembodied in a jar of nutrients.”

“I know what you mean, boss,” he nodded and grinned. “I’ve pretty much given up on women myself.”

“Indeed.”

Pickle stepped out the door, but his image was replaced by a ghostly image of someone from long ago in my past. Someone who I thought that I would never see again as he appeared to be my former college professor and mentor. But he was long dead, wasn’t he?
“Dr. Nemonok, I would have a word with you,” the image spoke to me.

“Professor Kingsford J. Cerebelok, is that really you?”

“Indeed it is,” it replied. “Though I have gone on to the next level of existence, I have returned but this one time to see you.”

“What do you want of me?”

“Much,” it replied.

“Very well, be on with it then. I haven’t got all day.”

“Nemonok, I must warn you. I am forever cursed to wander the galaxy as penitence for what I have done. Do not follow my footsteps, be a better man. Er, disembodied brain in a jar. You do not have to be evil.”

“Is this all you have come to tell me? I will hear no more of it, I have work to do. Evil work.”

“Doctor, I must warn you, you can still escape this fate by the visitation from the spirits three,” Cerebelok continued. “They will see you here, tonight!”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall be going. I have important matters to attend to.”

I quickly gathered my four henches (Gun Nut begrudgingly came along, though she gave me the “silent treatment” for the entirety of the trip) and we flew to Washington DC in my Shadow Stealthship. Once at the capitol of the most powerful nation on this planet, my crew and I disembarked to speak with the evil Dick Cheney.

“You want to what?” he seemed shocked. “Wah wah.”

“I want to destroy Christmas. Please just send your troops and weapons to the North Pole and destroy it.”

“You can’t do that,” he spat. “It’s evil.”

“Yes, I know that. I’m evil, you’re evil. We’re all evil, so let’s just go destroy Christmas.”

“But Christmas is the one time of year where even evil gets a holiday,” he answered. “You can’t be evil on Christmas. You just can’t.”

“What’s goin’ on in here?” President George Bush walked in on our meeting. He took one look at me and my henches and did a double take. “Now, I’ve seen some weird ones in Austin, buncha dirty dang hippies, but this is the weirdest sight I ever did laid eyes on. Hey Laura, get a load a the brain ina jar!”

“I have no time for this. Bob, fire the Hypnoray.”

“With pleasure, boss.”

With these mindless fools under my control, I quickly sent them to the television broadcast room to send a very important message to the people of this nation.
“My fellow ‘Mericans,” Bush spoke somberly. “We have a saying in ‘Merica, I know we say it in Texshush, I think you all say it in ‘Merica: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, uh, I won’t get fooled again.

“My job is a decision-making job, and as a result, I make a lot of decisions, and for too long, the freedom lovin’ people of this nation and of this world have been living in fearful rule of one man. All of us in America want there to be fairness when it comes to justice, and this one man has been living beyond fairnessness and justice for too long.

“These are big achievements for this country, and the people of ‘Merica ought to be proud of the achievements that they have achieved, but in achieving those achievements there is an achievement that we have yet to obtain. Santa Claus has been conducting a one man campaign against the morals and decency of God-fearing ‘Mericans for too long.

“My fellow ‘Mericans, I'm pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw Santa Claus forever. We begin bombing in five minutes. For all who love freedom and peace, the world without Santa Clauses’s regime is a better and safer place. Thank you and good night.”

And with the order from my brain dead puppet, the American Military forces deployed a carrier group to the North Pole. Jet craft carpet bombed Christmas Village and ground forces rushed in to capture Saint Nick, who was quickly found hiding in a spider hole. President Bush quickly flew to the aircraft carrier and delivered a “Mission accomplished speech” to raise morale of the troops.

“We have brought in a special CIA operator and master interrogator the Warrior, Dr. Nemonok,” Dick Cheney told me as I surveyed the sight from the comforts of the White House strategy center. “We’ll have that fat goose singing like a canary in no time, wah wah.”

“Splendid. A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, indeed.”

Nemonok: Super Happy Destructive Robot Time Go

“Gather around, my minions; it is time to prepare for the next challenge.”

Heh heh, having minions is nice. I can see why my dark lord Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord has so many.

“What are we doing this time, boss?” Apocalypto Pickle asked.

“We must build a giant robot of doom. And as an additional proverbial wrench in the cog, a Lieutenant Commander Oneida will be judging. Therefore, I would like all of you to say something nice about our guest judge in order to get into her good graces.”

“You want to get on her good side?” asked Bob the Goon. “We could bribe her maybe.”

“Or maybe we could kidnap her and release her only when she agrees that we won the challenge!” Iron Butterfly suggested.

“Idiot,” Gun Nut spat. “How is she going to rule in our favor when she’s kidnapped?”

“I dunno,” Butterfly shrugged.

“Enough, my henches. Let me give you a little class in psychology 101. All humans like to be complimented. It’s that simple. It puts them at ease and it allows them the opportunity to feel appreciated. The fact that we are quite and unusual group—”

“What?” interupted Gun Nut.

“No!” injected Butterfly.

“No no, it’s true. I am sure we are somewhat atypical to what she considers normal or standard. Anyway, remember that she is clearly too intelligent and sophisticated to fall for an insincere compliment, so everyone please compliment our judge and keep it real, as they say.”

“Uh, OK,” Bob the Goon thought for a moment. “She’s real pretty, I’d like to take her out to dinner. Maybe we could get some shrimp. See? I keep sayin’ shrimp. That’s no coincidence.”

“Uh yeah, pretty,” Apocalypto Pickle added. “Real stylish, too. Her clothes are uh uh uh.”

He made a snapping motion in a Z pattern for emphasis.

“Yeah, I like her hair,” Gun Nut said. “I’d like to know who does it.”

“Yeah her hair,” Butterfly offered. “I sure would like to smell her pretty hair.”

“OK, that was borderline creepy but I think it will get the job done. Now, we must get going on our journey and we must hurry as it is apparent that that strung out female robot judge does not have the attention span of a Gernelian gnat.”

“Yeah? So where are we going?” asked Butterfly.

“We are going to the one place where giant robots of doom are as common as an Orwelian street rat on an Orwelian street. And that is the island of Japan.”

My crew of henches and I quickly flew to Japan in my Shadow Stealthship where I quickly used the technology and radioactive materials readily available there to construct the grandest of giant evil robots ever designed.
“It’s amazing,” Gun Nut said in awe.

“It’s incredible,” Iron Butterfly added as he stared up at the giant automaton.”

“That crotch, it’s so huge,” Pickle added. “Er, I mean, the whole thing is huge. It’s a giant robot and all.”

“Now to enact the second part of my plan! Giant Evil Robot, smash the building!”

The monster obeyed my command and crashed through one of the buildings of downtown Tokyo.

“That’s it?” Gun Nut asked. “It’s just going to smash the city up? That seems rather pedestrian.”

“Of course wanton destruction is rather blasé, but that’s just the beginning. There should be a good robot or monster flying in shortly to defend the city.”

“There it is.” Gun Nut pointed to the skies. “A big blue one.”

The robotic titan landed in front of my robot. They went through a series of elaborate moves, chopping the air and stomping the ground before they began fighting each other.

“OK, they’re fighting,” Butterfly said. “I mean, they’re huge. It’s an awesome battle and all, but now what?”
“Everyone, keep your eyes open.”

“For what?” asked Bob the Goon. “What’re we lookin’ for?”

“Over there. That boy with the remote and the short pants.”

“The kid next to the creepy old man? What about him?” asked Pickle. “You want me to go get ‘um?”

“No. Just watch.”

With another electronic command sent to my robot, the door in its stomach slid open and the contents contained within spilled out.

“What’re those?” Bob squinted up at the robot.

“They look like—” Gun Nut’s voice trailed off.

“Jeans?” Butterfly rubbed his eyes and looked again. “Yeah, they’re blue jeans.”
“Are they poisoned?” asked Pickle.

“Mind control jeans?” asked Gun Nut.

“No, just jeans. All of the monsters and giant robots of this island nation seem to have child companions who always run around in those shorts. I find the fashion rather disconcerting, but then again, I have little need for pants myself.”

“So you’re just going to give them jeans?” Gun Nut asked.

“That doesn’t seem all that evil,” added Pickle.

“Of course I am just giving them jeans. This child will take a pair, then the next, then the next. Soon every child in this nation will be wearing these blue jeans. These western blue jeans.”

“Yeah? So,” shrugged Butterfly.

“These pants will bring this nation to its knees. The elders won’t understand the fashion and it will spin from there. Jeans beget teens wearing yellow wigs and orange makeup, that will beget youth dressing up like their favorite cartoon characters. Tentacle fetishes, bad karaoke, and fuzzy pink Hello Kitty backpacks will all come from this. This once proud culture of ronin, princesses, and dragons will crawl to a halt under the weight of its own junk. Fifty years from now, this will be an island wasteland.”

“I, I guess that’s a good plan…” Bob stammered.

“Yeah, but we don’t have 50 years to watch it play out, man,” Pickle complained.

“Yeah, what are we s’pposed to do ‘til then?” Bob asked.

“Heh. You people have no style.”

Nemonok: Evil is afoot (figuratively speaking, of course)

“Nemonik.”

“Nemonok.”

“Nemnok.”

“Nemonok.”

“Nemahnok.”

“Nemonok.”

“Neemonok.”

“Close. It is Nemonok.”

“Nemonock?” he asked.

“No, say it like this: Nemonok.”

“Nemernok?” the clone trooper attempted again.

“You still aren’t getting it right. It is pronounced Nemonok.”

“Neemonok?”

“Here, let me give you a little mnemonic to help you with the pronunciation. ‘Dr. Nemonok is the leader of the Dr. Nemonok Gang.’ Now you try it.”

“Uh,” Army of (Cl)one stammered for a moment. “Dr. Nemonok is the leader of the Dr. Nemonok Gang?”

“Very good. That wasn’t so difficult was it? Now that that business is out of the way, what were we about to talk about?”

“Well, you see, all my life I’ve been a clone,” the clone said.

“I see.”

“Always just a number from a batch,” he continued. “Just a faceless cog in a giant faceless machine. A man without a name, without a destiny except to fight and die for my Empire.”

“Interesting. Go on.”

“I’ve seen some pretty horrible things,” he added. “I’ve seen death hundreds of times and faced it dozens of times myself.”

“Indeed. And you do not like this destiny?”

“No, that’s not it,” he replied. “It’s just that I’m supposed to be a nameless, faceless part of a legion, that’s how I was made. But I’ve been developing this individuality.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it started really slow,” AOC said. “But then, I got posted somewhere and I kind of noticed a few things that the other clones didn’t. Then I got sent to the Amazing Mutant Race and Last Gladiator Standing, then this competition. Then I started noticing women.”

“You started to notice women?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded. “Did you know they come in all kinds of different shapes? They’re all beautiful, too. In fact, I had this one commander who used to take good care of me. Wow, she was a hot one.”

“She used to take care of you?”

“I mean, she used to treat me as a person,” AOC clarified. “She treated all her clones with respect. It was weird.”

“And you did not like this?”

“No, I did like it,” he insisted. “It’s just that how can I be a nobody if I’m a somebody? I’m supposed to be faceless, but I’m not. I have a face.”

“You pose an interesting question. Unfortunately, our time for today is up. Perhaps we could talk about it again next week. However, think about this as you go: I am faceless as well, and yet I clearly am an individual.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks a lot, Dr. Nimonik.”

“That’s Nemonok.”

Having helped the clone with his issue as well as putting another of my competition deeper into my (proverbial) grasp, I was ready to lead my troop of evildoers on our next mission. I quickly assembled them in the newly constructed office of our Sierra Gordo base.

“Lady and gentlemen, our task for today is to join an evil organization. I have plans to join the evilest one of all.”

“Is it the Brotherhood of Evil?” asked Apocalypto Pickle.

“Is it the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants?” asked Iron Butterfly.

“Is it Hydra?” asked Gun Nut.

“Is it Cobra?” asked Bob the Goon.

“No, my loyal henches, we will be joining Halliburton. My Shadow Stealthship is prepared for takeoff, in just a few short hours we will be in the Emirate of Dubai.”

“That’s in the Middle East, ain’t it?” asked Butterfly.

“Yeah,” laughed Pickle. “I better bring my sunscreen, huh?”

We made it to Haliburton headquarters and easily made our way to the executive offices and found many of the officers in a meeting. Butterfly pressed his cybernetic auditory receptor against the door and listened.

“So it is settled, we’ll feed spoiled food to the troops in Iraq,” the chairman laughed. “Then we’ll overcharge the American government on all our contracts with them.”

The laughter of the board members was quickly interrupted by my henches bursting through the door into the meeting room.

“What are you people doing here?” a man stood up and angrily demanded. “I am David J. Lesar, CEO of Haliburton and whulp!”

Lesar stumbled back and clutched his arm in pain. The bullet from Gun Nut’s firearm cleanly tore through his arm tissue without hitting bone.

“Nice shooting, dear.”

“Let me kill ‘im, lover” she growled. “Just one shot.”

“Now now, we have been under scrutiny for the past two challenges for being a little too trigger happy. There’s no need to kill this man when I am certain that he will gladly cooperate with us.”

“Never!” he grimaced. “I don’t know who you freaks are, but you’ll pay for this outrage!”

“Yes, of course we will. Apocalypto Pickle, take him away to the dungeons of his office building here. Introduce him to some of the tortures that we villains love to use: water boarding, dogs snapping at his heals, sing to him off key. Have fun with it.”

“Whatever you say boss,” Pickle snarled gladly. He then grabbed the CEO by the collar and dragged him out of the room.

“Now ladies and gentlemen of the board, I have a proposal. My little gang and I are hereby joining your company. All in favor?”

The rest of the officers looked at each other uncomfortably. One finally spoke up “We’ll gladly let you join, you certainly have got the stuff for it. But we have to answer to the Boss first.”

“Your boss? Didn’t I just have him hauled away?”

“No, not him,” the crisply suited man stammered. “The Boss.”

“And who is this Boss?”

“I am,” came a voice from the doorway. “What is going on with my evil corporation?”

“It’s the Penguin!” cried Bob the Goon.

“Not quite,” the Boss answered as he strode forward towards me.

“Vice President Dick Cheney,” Iron Butterfly gasped.

“That’s right, you iron-clad Bozo, wa wa,” he snarled. “And who are you clowns?”

“Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Dr. Nemonok, psychiatrist extraordinaire and this is my gang, Gun Nut, Iron Butterfly, and Bob the Goon. Apocalypto Pickle just took your CEO away, or should I say your former CEO?”

Heh heh, former is right, I think,” Cheney leered an evil leer. “Nemonok, is it? I’ve heard of you. You work for Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord, don’t you?”

“That is true. I am surprised that you know of him.”

“Oh, I am a big fan of his work,” the Vice President smiled. “In fact, I’m following his footsteps in what he did on Tarkuhn V right here on Earth. Slightly smaller scale, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You know, Nemonok, I like you,” he nodded with another smile. “I like your crew here and I like how you operate. I was getting tired of seeing what Lesar was doing around this place and I can’t tell you how happy I am that you shook things up a little bit. His spot is yours.”

“Oh no no, I couldn’t. I am no evil businessman, just an evil psychiatrist.”

“And you’re modest as well, wa wa.” Cheney’s evil fangs glistened through his crooked sneer. “I really like you. Say, would you like to go hunting with me this weekend? Just you and me.”

“That sounds delightful. Unfortunately, I do not have the ability to carry a firearm.”

“Don’t worry, my friend, wa wa,” Cheney grinned. “I’ll carry one for both of us.”

Nemonok: Deeds, Not Words

My henches and I were flying over Sierra Gordo in my Shadow Stealthship. The flight was as quiet and uneventful as I had anticipated.

“This isn’t my first time in a spaceship,” Bob the Goon said. “I once was in a 1964 Chevy Malibu that had an alien in the trunk. Otto and I flew through space and time in that thing.”

“Whatever, man,” Apocalypto Pickle grunted.

“It’s true man,” Bob insisted. “Just Otto and I and a plate of shrimp. Y’ see, the flyin’ saucers are time machines. Where d’ you think man came from? From the flyin’ saucers.”

“Hey man, you talking crazy,” Pickle laughed back.

“Quiet, you two,” Iron Butterfly interrupted. “We have something coming up on the screen. A lot of somethings.”

“It looks like an armored force,” Gun Nut said while looking at the readings. “The equipment is definitely from the United States. Looks like we have a highly trained special missions force from America visiting.”

“Destroy them all. I will not have some foreign army despoiling my new country.”

“Yes sir, Doctor,” Butterfly answered with a grin. “Hah ha, a buncha them dopes are in motorcycles, too!”

“Have fun, use the cannons.”

“Hey, lemme in on some o’ that action,” Pickle grabbed the controls to one gun station while Butterfly manned the other. Both happily fired away at the helpless vehicles on the ground.

“Doctor, may I have a word with you?” Gun Nut asked.

“Of course.”

“In private.”

“Very well, please join me in my private chambers.” I moved my containment unit out of the control center as my two henches yelled jubilantly while firing the ship’s weapons.

“Dr. Nemonok, do you like me?” Gun Nut asked once we were in private.

“Of course. I admire your skills and I appreciate your usefulness to me. That is why I handpicked you to be my weapons expert. Well, not handpicked exactly, you know what I mean.”

She stepped closer towards me. “I mean, do you care for me?”

“Yes I do. As I care for the other henches. You are a very valuable member of my team.”

“No not like that,” she breathed heavily. “Not professionally. Personally.”

I finally understood what she was trying to ask. It was the relationship talk, as the females of this species so often engage in. I expected this, but not so soon.

“I appreciate you very much and I care for you very much. I long for your presence when you are not near me.”

“Oh that’s sweet,” Gun Nut replied happily. “What do you like about me?”

“Clearly your countenance commands the attention of not only me, but of all other males in the room.”

“Really? Oh that’s so nice, Doctor Nemonok,” she purred. Then her features changed just slightly. “What else?”

“What else? Very well, I was hoping to save this but now is as good of a time as any. Please look in cold storage unit 5.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she squealed as the door hissed away to reveal a fur coat. “And you got it for me?”

“Certainly. I personally supervised the killing of the animals from which it was made. It cost a little more that way, but you are worth it.”

“Oh Nemonok!” she wrapped her arms around my brain containment tank. “You are wonderful. I’m going to try it on right now!”

“Hey boss,” Iron Butterfly’s voice crackled over the comm system. “We destroyed all those tanks and stuff. Ha ha, we smoked ‘em good.”

“Excellent. Prepare for landing.”

I landed the Shadow Stealthship perfectly and we quickly exited to take a look at our surroundings.

“Looks like a nice spot, boss,” Butterfly said. “Now, how are we gonna build a base?”

“Simple, you and Apocalypto Pickle will build it. You can mine for the iron ore over there. I will have the plans prepared once you have enough.”

Butterfly and Pickle stared at me with their jaws dropped open. Gun Nut just smirked a little.

“Uh boss, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful or anything but we don’t have anything to mine the iron with,” Pickle said. “How do we even know there’s enough iron around here?”

“Heh heh, I have fooled you. That was a little experiment of mine in Earth humor. Wasn’t that funny? I said wasn’t that funny?”

Butterfly and Pickle laughed uncomfortably. Gun Nut continued to smirk and snorted once out of her nose.

“Yeah, you got us, boss,” Butterfly said. “You got us good.”

“Thank you, but my ship shall do the work for us. It is equipped to draw the elements out of the ground to build a protective edifice around it. I know that it is somewhat unconventional, but who wants to go through the hassle of hiring contractors? Bunch of money-soaked felons, they are.”

My underlings watched in awe as the protective base began to form around the ship. Like a metallic crystal stretching out, it quickly enveloped the ship and formed our new base.

“Yo, boss,” Pickle called out. “We got someone coming in on a motorcycle.”

“Aw, did we miss someone back at that masacre? What’s with the jumpsuit?” Butterfly asked as the intruder drew closer.

“That motorcycle kind of looks like a time machine,” Bob the Goon added.

“I’m Ace Hunter, leader of Megaforce,” the man announced as he leapt off his motorcycle. He kissed his thumb and showed it to Gun Nut in some sort of a macho gesture I could only presume. “My team and I are here to help the rebels topple the evil régime that is plaguing this country because the good guys always win, even in the 2000’s. Are you the rebels?”

“Yeah, sure we’re the rebels,” Butterfly snickered. Pickle began to laugh as well.

“What’s so funny here?” Ace Hunter demanded. “Hey, what’s that you got in the jar there? It looks like a brain.”

“Of course it’s a brain, foolish human. It is I, Dr. Nemonok!”

“Doctor Who?” he asked, his eyebrows furled in confusion.

“Not Doctor Who, you stupid twit.” Gun Nut stepped forward. “It’s Dr. Nemonok.”

“And he’s a talking brain?”

“Yes. I am a talking brain, though if you really want to get technical, I don’t actually talk. I send signals that are received and decoded, then transmitted as sound through my vocoder for you to hear. Now if you don’t mind, my henches and I are preparing our new base of operations. Good day, sir.”

Ace Hunter drew his sidearm and aimed it at us. “Henches, eh? Well, we’ll see about that. Why don’t we all just sit right here nice and cozy until the rest of Megaforce arrives.”

“You mean all those tanks and stuff we destroyed back there?” Butterfly threw his thumb back with a laugh. “Nothing’s left but a bunch of smoking scrap, hah hah!”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to write a lot of sad letters to a lot of mothers when you get back,” Pickle chimed in.

“I don’t think that he’s going to get back,” Gun Nut added.

“You fiendish murders!” the hero growled. “I’ll end your reign of terror myself.”

The Megaforce leader tried to pull the trigger of his pistol, but my weapons expert was faster. Ace Hunter reeled backwards as the impact a single slug bore into his forehead, ending his miserable existence quickly and completely.

“Aw, I was gonna bash him,” Butterfly chuckled.

“Too bad for him,” Pickle laughed.

“Good job, Gun Nut. A pity though, I was certainly expecting more. Is this the best that they can offer?”

Nemonok: Location, Location, Location

“Say boss.” It was Apocalypto Pickle. And he was interrupting my discussion with the villain Magneto.

“Can I help you?”

“Well, I heard about what you did for Gun Nut,” he said. “You know, made her—”

“Yes, what about it? Magnus and I are having a nice chat while enjoying tea. Well he is, I don’t drink it myself obviously.”

“Well, I was just thinkin’ I’m kind of a misfit, always have been.” For once, Pickle’s gruff exterior crumbled away, revealing a lonely man beneath his façade. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me… This is kinda awkward, a man askin’ a man like this.”

“Don’t be silly. Throughout the more civilized species of the galaxy, love between two of the same gender does not carry the hostility or prejudices that it does in much of this world.”

“Is that so?” Magneto asked, suddenly gaining interest. “Er, I mean this is quite interesting, of course.”

“Yes. In fact as a race, the Haartarians have 12 distinct genders. Very often, they do not even care what gender they are partnering with as long as the two partners form an emotional bond.”

“So do you think you could do that for me?” Pickle asked. “You know, what you did for Gun Nut?”

“Oh by my dark lord no. I don’t ‘swing’ that way, as your kind often put it.”

“If I may, Pickle,” Magneto offered. “If it is companionship that you seek, my own henchmen have a place where they often hang out.”

“Really?” Pickle’s eyes picked up.

“Yes,” the mutant master of magnetism continued. “I hear them talking about it often. They call it the Y, evidently, and they say that it’s fun to go there. Perhaps I could have them take you there some time.”

“Really?” Pickle asked. “That’d be swell!”

“I’m sure it would. Unfortunately, it is time for my team to gather together. We must discuss my plans for the next challenge.”

“Well, it was very nice having this discussion with you, sir,” Magneto stood up and gathered his long brightly colored cloak. “I must be on my way as well.”

“Then I bid you good day. Perhaps we could pick up our earlier discussion at another time. Now, Apocalypto Pickle, gather the team!”

My four henches were quickly gathered and I introduced them to my plan.

“The plan is very simple. There is a country in Central America that has been in economic turmoil for several of your decades now. They are fighting amongst themselves and the government is run by a cruel, uncaring dictator. This will become our new base of operations.”

“I love the sexy Latinas,” a grin cracked across Iron Butterfly’s face. “What’s the plan once we get there?”

“The plan is so simple that I have no doubt that we will have easy success.”

“Well what is it?” Pickle growled impatiently.

“Quiet you,” Gun Nut warned.

“We will travel in my personal ship, its cloaking device and superior technology will surely get us there without incident. Once there, we will use the advanced technology at my disposal to erect an impenetrable base from which my true plans will come to fruition.”

“And what are those plans, boss?” Butterfly asked.

“We will slowly introduce my technology to the natives of this area, influencing its government, infrastructure, and culture. Then in less than 200 years of your time, this country will be an economic and military powerhouse, able to strike out at others with impunity!”

My four henches quietly stared at me. They stared at me quite a while. Bob the Goon almost said something, but then quietly resigned; unable to articulate his thoughts.

“I may be new to this whole evil mastermind thing, but isn’t this where you tell me how great of a plan this is?”

“Well you see, boss,” Bob began. Once again, he could not continue.

“We’re not going to be around for 200 years!” Pickle finally spat out.

“What, of course you are. You’re my henches, you’re not going anywhere.”

“What we’re trying to say, Doctor,” Gun Nut attempted to carefully phrase her words. “People like us don’t live to be over 200 years old. We might live to be 100 or so, but not much more.”

I stared at them through my clear brain containment tank.

“Well, this does speed up the timetable a bit, I suppose.”

“Yeah, that’ll work if we speed it up, boss,” Bob said. “We’re s’pposed to lure a hero there anyways. Why wait 200 years?”

“Well, I am a patient brain, but I do see your point. Instead of slow and steady, we shall take over the country quickly and haphazardly. Yes. I can’t see anything going wrong with this plan.”

“One more thing, Doctor,” Gun Nut looked at me with her stunning eye. “What country are we going to?”

“The country, my dear friends, is Sierra Gordo.”