(We've done it again! To celebrate the Vampire of Veldin's continued success, here's another one shot story for all of you. Whether you've been reading along or not, you should be able to follow along with this one rather well . . . in fact, it probably explains a lot either way. - J)

Captain Qwark landed his ship on the nearby space station orbiting Zeldrin. The good captain hummed to himself as he cycled through the browser on his ship's console, checking up on his stock portfolio as the docking clamps set into place, the back hatch on his ship opening as he set his ship's computer to hibernate.

He readied his pistol as he walked down the ramp of his ship's hatch, reviewing in his head. He'd received coordinates to this space station only a few hours ago, asking for him. He was sure it was meant for him specifically because the note had a picture attached with it that was a drawing of him - a fairly cartoonish drawing, but he could tell it was him nonetheless. He supposed it was why he remembered to come up here, in fact, but the fact that he'd never heard of this place before made him wonder what was really going on.

He looked around, cautious, as he noticed several of the artistic sculptures in the 'courtyard' following him. He pulled out his blaster, scanning around, before confronting a screen.

"Good evening, hero." The screen woke up, a pair of eyes blinking at him. "Welcome to the Dynamic Augury. My name is Vincent. How may I annihilate you this evening?"

"Annihilate?" Qwark scoffed. "There's no way any mere computer could ever hope to annihilate the great Captain Qwark!"

"Oh! Mister Qwark, my humblest apologies." Vincent spoke with a clear tone, as the sculptures pulled back and realigned themselves into place. "The Mistress has been expecting you."

The door opened, and Qwark blinked, looking down the ornately decorated hall. He started walking down it, his eyes drawn towards a large statue of a sitting Vidian in the classic thinker's pose, carved out of some iridescent white stone.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" Vincent spoke, and Qwark reached a hand out, before Vincent remarked. "Please don't touch. I don't believe my Mistress would appreciate the delay, anyhow."

"Where is your . . . 'mistress'?" Quark narrowed his eyes, unsure what to make of this.

Vincent lit up the hall, a traveling ring of extra brightness helping to illuminate the path for Qwark. "Please, walk this way."

Qwark kept his blaster in his hands, walking down carefully. "I'm still convinced this is a trap."

"Sir, I'm merely following orders. She still wants you to walk this way."

After a prolonged period of sneaking across the hallway, still entirely too convinced that this was a trap of some kind, Qwark made his way over to a doorway, with another screen next to it. Vincent blinked back to life on the screen, watching him.

"Please sheath your weapon before I allow you inside the inner sanctum. I don't want you shooting my Mistress before she even has a chance to speak with you."

"Shouldn't I be, I don't know . . . led in by guards or something? Or having to firefight a troop of mutated Ameboids? Robot sentries? Anything?"

"Sir, the Mistress has made severe cutbacks in her staff recently." Vincent responded, looking a little despondent. "We apologize for the inconvenience, but you'll merely have to deal with the Mistress head-on rather than allowing yourself to ramp up your combat skills with progressively more difficult guards until you are experienced enough to confront her with more confidence."

"Oh." Qwark blinked, making a strange face reserved for seeing puppies run over.

Vincent didn't look very happy announcing this himself. "We've really had to cut back lately. The Mistress even had to let go of her assistant yesterday. On a brighter note, the assistant is now going to a very prestigious kindergarten program."

"What kind of villain hires a five-year-old?"

"The kind of villain who goes to enough trouble to child-proof her plans. Don't worry, though, she kept him on retainer long enough to deal with her latest one."

Vincent gave him a cheery eye-smile before opening the door. "Mistress, a 'Captain Qwark' is here to see you."

"Thank you, Vincent." She spoke in a voice that Qwark picked up on, but couldn't identify right away. The room was reasonably lit, with the windows in the chamber also doubling as polarized mirrors, but her chair was currently turned away. Qwark could tell that she could see him, but him to see her . . . not so much.

Qwark blinked, glancing around, noting a distinct lack of computer software in the room. "Strangest stronghold I've ever seen . . . No one works like this!"

"Ah, good, that explains my continued survival!" The femme mused, spinning around in her bowl-shaped chair to glare at Qwark. The first thing Qwark noticed about her was her legs — long, sculpted, sensual things, one a smooth, tanned work of flesh, and the other a chrome, cybernetic work of art. They both went up into a red miniskirt that concealed little, leading up into a red halter top that showed off her midriff and a pristine white lab coat that went to her hips. Her head was still slightly concealed in shadow, but if it was anything like the rest of her, it had to be gorgeous. "But I digress . . . you're probably wondering why I invited you here."

"Humina . . . " Qwark mumbled to himself, his lower lip trembling as he quickly felt his pants shrink.

She frowned in disappointment, but then smiled again, knitting her hands together. "I'll accept that as a yes. I presume you're not used to having to deal with someone of my caliber."

Qwark blinked. "Hey! I've dealt with plenty of your caliber, lady, and don't you forget it!"

"I'm sure you have." She smiled, standing up. She seemed a little wobbly on her prosthetic leg, and Qwark noticed two extendable supports shoot out of the sleeves of her lab coat, helping her walk towards him. Out of the shadows, he now saw a head of bright red hair, perfectly disheveled, and a pair of thin sunglasses that framed her face just so. "After all, that was why I wanted you here."

"You!" Qwark blinked, spotting her black devil's tail finally. "You . . . you're that crazy lady with all the science experiments! You tried to recreate Noah and Noelle's Ark!"

"Hmm, smart one." She gave him a thin grin, before speaking. "At any rate, Qwark, I'm sorry to report that my 'reign of tyranny' as it were is about to come to a close. You see, one of my recent excursions to a remote planet for a new 'sample' of mine didn't go as well as I had planned. I expected to be leaving with new DNA, not leaving a good chunk of my own behind there. An ordinary person would just regrow the leg . . . unfortunately, with the number of 'enhancements' I've made to myself, it's made regrowing my leg impossible to do without years of therapy as is. "

She glanced down at her robotic leg, wobbling a little as she walked. "Quite simply, I decided I needed some time off. Perhaps a little time to decide if I will want to continue on my current path. But simply put, Qwark, I know the galaxy wants me. Badly. As long as I'm in this tettering stage, it's just not safe for me to continue my 'villainy' anymore. The galaxy deserves to see me at it's finest, but it's been a while since they took a confined fiend seriously."

"I don't get it . . . are you seriously telling me you're turning yourself in?" Qwark blinked.

She smiled at him. "Something wrong with my analysis? After all, as long as I have to spend a few years learning how to remaster myself, I may as well spend it in a taxpayer-funded prison that's all too willing to unwittingly rehabilitate me to the point that I can become dangerous again."

"I'm not buying it."

"What?"

Qwark glared at her. "I said I'm not buying it! NO ONE turns themselves in!" He cried out, pulling out his signature blaster. "There is no rational reason any villain — even a mad scientist like yourself, who by definition is irrational — would just up and invite me in here just to turn themselves in!"

"Come on; if I just waltzed into Marcadia, the fools there would think I was actually up to something. This way, you get credit for turning me in, I salvage my evil credibility and bust out in a couple years, everyone's happy!" She snapped back, starting to lose her temper.

He rolled his eyes. "No, no, NO! I still think you're up to something! Even if that was your plan, it was entirely too simple for me to believe that's what you really had up your sleeve!"

"Simple? You think my plans are SIMPLE?" She glared at him. "Are you trying to make me order Vincent on you? Look, if you're not willing to play along with this, I can just as easily kill you and use the footage of your death as bait to lure Captain Starshield over here and get him to do your job, but that would actually require putting up a proper fight first. At least with you I can just put on a show the way you did with Nefarious years ago!"

"Look, lady, I have taken on the likes of Doctor Nefarious and lived to tell about it. I know Doctor Nefarious. I have fought Doctor Nefarious. And you, lady, are no Doctor Nefarious!"

Daisy growled, raising one arm to swat Qwark in the head, but found herself having to catch herself, finding herself unsteady on only three legs. Qwark blinked as she hit the floor with a clatter, having more than just a little trouble pulling herself back up, having to pull back her extendable crutches just to sit up on the floor. She sat up, noticing her metal leg having sprung loose, before looking up and glaring at Captain Qwark. "Get the hell out of my sanctum."

"Fine, fine . . . Sheesh. I've had my share of villainous battles before, but lady, you are out of practice . . ." Qwark turned, starting to leave. "You can't even come up with a proper evil plot and you want me to arrest you? Please. You might get into an insane asylum with that kind of logic, but no court on the planet is just going to believe I walked in here and just walked out with you willingly . . . you have to at least give me a plot to foil."

"Get back here, you talentless hack!" Daisy growled, still sitting on the floor, pulling in her good knee to help her stand up. "Don't you dare judge me like that! I'm trying to give you the arrest that'll make you famous again, and you're arguing with me about this?"

Qwark walked a few more steps off, looking back at her. "Lady, I only deal with dangerous criminals. Look at you; you can barely walk over to me, let alone fight."

Daisy tried to stand up again, but her ass hit the ground with a dull thud. She pounded on her leg a bit, poking and prodding at it to try and get it to work with her again. "Dammit, Qwark, my mind is the dangerous part of me! Pay attention to that instead of my body!"

"But you're more of a threat to yourself than to the galaxy right now. Why would I waste my time with you?" Qwark shook his head, with a hand on his chest. "Look, you've had your fun, I'll admit that. But I've got a reputation of my own to protect. I'm not turning in a crippled hack just because she wanted me to. I charge for that kind of photo-op, missy!"

Daisy glared, baring her teeth at him . . . and then she smiled. "I knew you were too smart for that, Qwark."

"Really?" He blinked, standing up straight. "I mean . . . of course! Of course I was!"

"It's a good thing you saw through it, Qwark — had you actually bought into my plan, I would have had Vincent shoot you from behind once you were sufficient convinced of my helplessness, so he could consume your body for fuel and use it to power himself." She smiled. "Because, of course, I would have had to get rid of you in order for my master plan to work."

"Keep talking, lady . . ." Qwark spoke, checking behind him just in case now. He knew the whole talk of turning herself in had to be a setup . . .

"You want to hear my elaborate, diabolical plan?" Daisy narrowed her eyes. "Here's what I'm going to do. Using my conniving charm and impressive mental acumen, I plan to take over a media corporation and use it to spread my influence across the galaxy. As this new trend of reality television fades — as all trends do — I plan to force the heroes and champions of the galaxy into a sadistic series of challenges, killing them off one by one and slowly draining the galaxy of the people it needs most, the galaxy will be ripe for the taking."

"And of course you wanted me out of the way, because you knew that such a challenge wouldn't even faze me!" Qwark exclaimed, as though it all made sense to him now.

She chuckled, a fingernail tracing his lips. "Naturally, but that's not even the most sadistic part. People will be afraid to leave their homes, depending solely on news I control in order to make their decisions. Once they're convinced the galaxy is plunged into terror — never mind if it is or isn't, though with the lack of heroes about, the inherent evil in the galaxy will soon grow enough for me to report that is — I'll be able to spin myself into the spotlight, turning myself into the Galaxy's savior apparent! With these people forced to accept me as their hero, I'll have the Galactic President and everyone else eating out of my hands. If the government doesn't change to suit me, I'll have all the power I need to assemble a new one to replace it. The revolution will be holovized, and I will be its Director!"

"Director?" Qwark blinked, slightly stunned. "Like a movie?"

Daisy chuckled, then grinned — it couldn't be this easy. Her body leaned in close to Qwark, wrapping an arm behind his neck. "It's not just a movie, Qwark; it's the most elaborate production you've ever been in! A cast of trillions of sophonts! Movie stars and celebrities from the Aleph to the Omega-lists! There will be action, drama, sexual energy, greed, suspense-"

"Pie?" Qwark added on, the gravity of the situation quickly unraveling in his brain.

"All you can eat, in every flavor you can imagine." She purred, a seductive look on her face. "Every actress needs her leading man, after all . . . will you be that leading man? Are you willing to take on such an important role? Do you have what it takes to be my . . . my star?"

"Yes, yes!" Qwark cried out, taking hold of Daisy, spinning her around. "Pick me, Director! I'm ready for my close-up!"

Qwark put his lips out for a kiss, but the mad doctor rolled free. Daisy chuckled, pulling herself off the floor as she spun a pair of handcuffs around her finger. "Silly, silly Captain; you have to pass your screen test first."

"My screen test . . .?" Qwark blinked, his mind already starting to settle back into place. "Aren't I . . . here to arrest you?"

Daisy frowned, disheartened, but then smiled. "Of course you are." She quickly altered her position, tossing him the handcuffs and spinning around to press her back against his chest. "In fact, you're going to take me down to Zeldrin, book me, and I'll even take a nice plea-bargain so you don't have to go to court and worry about all those five-syllable words the lawyers use."

"Wow, that's nice of you . . . what am I saying? Daisy Narcissus Archanis, you're under arrest!"

Daisy purred, spreading her feet out as she bent forward to make slapping the cuffs on easier for Qwark. "Oh, how could I say no to a man as powerful and heroic as you?" She glanced over at a nearby screen. "Vincent, turn out the 'lights' and lock the door on my way out."

"Affirmative, Miss Archanis." Vincent responded, already starting to gray out and run a series of diagnostics.

Qwark started walking Daisy to his ship, noticing the technological marvels and fiberoptic spectacles on the walls shutting down and powering off as they left. It should have tripped a switch or two in his mind — that this was too easy, too planned, too calculated — but every time his attention idled, Daisy made a little jerk in the wrong direction, a drag of her heels, a sign of minor struggle, each one calculated to fail in all the right ways, giving him that idle brush against his body or some other personal violation that pulled his attention back to her.

They finally exited the fortress, walking towards Qwark's ship. "So, Daisy . . . you mentioned a plea-bargain . . ."

"Please, Qwark; I like my convictions to be as tidy as my plans. An expensive trial by media listing my many crimes and sins against society is not at all tidy, simple, or efficient in any sense of the world. Besides, you get the better treatment if you're cooperative." She smirked, walking with Qwark as the ramp to his ship lowered, and she slipped inside. "If I'm going to end up incarcerated anyway, I may as well be able to pick out my cell."

"Oh?" This got a momentary pause out of Qwark, who closed the ship up behind him, sitting in the pilot's seat and holding up a nearby leash from the console, directing Daisy closer to him until she spun around, allowing him to chain the leash up to her cuffs. "Tell me; what kind of a prison did you have in mind, then?"

Daisy smirked, lowering herself to kneel on the nearby floor, that omnipresent devilish smirk in her eyes. "Oh, there's this new expediency program I've heard about sponsored by the Vox Network. I believe it's called 'DreadZone' . . ."