"And what methods will you employ for the role?" Rob asked from behind his desk, not looking up from the rèsumè he was reading. His British voice already sounded weary from what had been a long and fruitless morning of interviewing.

His current interviewee adjusted his mask, a white one with concentric circles on the cheeks. "You see," he murmured ominously, "I want to play a game with him…"

Rob exhaled disappointedly. "I thought so. See, mister, er, Jigsaw, I'm looking for someone who will destroy Gumball. He's a kid. He'd enjoy playing games."

"But you don't understand-"

"Thank you for your interest in the role," Rob droned, gesturing to the door.

Jigsaw stood up sharply, fuming, but Rob gave no reaction except to flick over to the next in the stack of the rèsumès. The villain huffed and stormed out, muttering about how he would get revenge.

As the man left, Rob sighed and rubbed his temple in agitation. He caught a glimpse of the variety of characters waiting in the corridor as the door creaked closed behind the latest disappointing candidate. Would any of the remaining mercenaries be suitable? Sure, he had interviewed several promising candidates already, and some of them would have been very capable of DESTROYING GUMBALL WATTERSON ONCE AND FOR ALL!, but they were all missing something else. Either their interpersonal skills were lacking, or their references were poor, or they were Eldritch Horrors from the realm of mortal nightmares, or they had bad body odour. Was this what interviews were like for adults too?

In any case, he wouldn't give up or settle. He was Dr. Wrecker, and for his partner in crime, nothing short of perfection would do.

Rob hires the Forces of Evil

The next candidate teleported into the room instead of using the door. He was a golden triangle with a cane and top hat, and he had - ooh - just one gleeful eye. Plus points for the cyclops factor. Or was that positive discrimination?

"Well well well well well!" Bill Cipher boomed, chuckling, and as he did, the entire room tilted erratically, rattling some pens off the desk. "How do you do, Glitcher?"

"Not so bad," Rob replied, though he wasn't hot on the nickname. "I see you have power over space and time?"

Another room-tilting chuckle. If he did give this Bill guy the job, he would have to talk to him about those. "Haha, well, full disclosure, Glitcher, I only have power over the dreamworld and the mindscape. But hey, everyone needs sleep, right?

"And I don't need money, either, Glitcher. All I need is the use of your body for just a liiiittle-"

"Oh, what?! You want my body?!" Rob exclaimed, throwing his arms up defensively. "You know I'm underage, right?"

"No no, I just need to possess you-"

"Dude, still! That's just sick!"

A bead of sweat formed on Cipher's brow. "Glitcher, you're misunderstanding, I've done these deals with tons of kids before and-"

"Get out! OUT!"

Rob jolted awake, a piece of paper sliding off his face as he came back to his senses. Yes, he had been asleep, but the interview had been real, in the end.

Some words echoed in his head, in Bill's voice, which he wasn't sure he had actually heard or not before awakening. "Just remember, I'll be watching youuu…"

What a creep. Was it possible to get a restraining order against supernatural beings?

The next interviewee was huge. He squeezed his hulking, purple frame through the doorway, his gauntletted hand crushing the door where he had grasped it. Several embedded stones glowed entrancingly in the golden gauntlet.

"I am Thanos," he boomed. "With a single snap of my fingers, I can erase the one you call Gumball from existence."

"G-Great!" Rob said excitedly. To think, his victory was so close… No. Best not get ahead of himself. He cleared his throat and continued. "Do it. And the $20 will be yours."

Thanos blinked as Rob's hand reached into the pocket where he kept the assortment of coins. "$20?"

"Yes," Rob said slowly. "That was the amount I stated in the ad. Is there a problem?"

Thanos looked up solemnly. "I strive for balance. This… will not balance. my bank account, I mean."

Rob stopped fishing around in his pocket. "What?"

"I need at least three thousand dollars for my services," he declared. "Cash."

"Where am I going to get $3000 cash?" Rob said angrily. "I'm a teenager living off the grid who still has to finance his own schemes! Besides, all you have to do is snap your fingers! This is ridiculous!"

"It's a matter of principle," he stated, rising from his seat. "I see this job is then of no use to me. Farewell."

"Void dammit!" Rob pounded the desk with two frustrated fists. Luckily, the rented desk was undamaged.

"Sure, The Sith can help you," the old emperor drawled, with a sly grin. "All we need is 2 billion dollars' worth of funding in untraceable gold to build another Death Star…"

Rob was speechless for a full 30 seconds. His eyelid twitched. Emperor Palpatine's grin fell slightly as he slowly understood this wasn't the done deal he initially thought it was.

"I mean, we can make do with just half of it upfront, if that is more suitable for your-"

"YOU IDIOT!" Rob screamed. Palpatine raised his arms defensively as Rob whacked the shrivelled man with a stack of papers, Rob's fury exacerbating his glitchy movement. "Didn't- WHACK- you- WHACK- read- WHACK-the- WHACK- ad?!"

Rob chased him out of the room and the wrinkled old Sith Emperor fled rapidly down the corridor. Eventually he got out of arm's reach, then out of sight as Rob slowed. The young teen let out a primal scream and hurled the papers on the floor. Then, he became painfully aware of his own heavy breathing as he realised he had drawn the stares of everyone in the corridor who was still waiting for interview.

"Anyone else expecting more than $20 out of this job had better leave now," he said irately.

An old man who looked jaundiced muttered something about uncromulent humbugs and too shuffled out of the corridor.

"The name's Alex. Alex Stones."

Rob took a look at the next candidate, a white guy in maybe his twenties or thirties. His features looked clean and unassuming, but also familiar, as if Rob had seen his features on TV… The Allowed House! That show where inside the protagonist's home, anything goes.

Yeah, this fellow looked like he was from that show, but he was certainly something new. A real original character. He had a charismatic confidence which meant that Rob could already feel himself starting to like him.

"Yeah, I'll help you out," the guy smiled. "Destroying a kid, right? No problem, sounds interesting. Just give me the details and I'll get to work."

Rob found himself nodding approvingly. "No nonsense. I like it." He then took a quick look at the application letter Alex had sent. "I see you've got a lot of experience helping people. And you're happy to do it just as a-"

The young interviewer then looked up to notice that Alex had changed. Well, his expression hadn't, but his features were now… different? As if they'd been drawn differently. His eyes were a little narrower, his hair suddenly parted the other way. It was too fast for Alex to have actually changed it himself.

The subject of Rob's scrutiny continued to grin as if nothing had changed. "A favour, yeah," Alex finished, his now differently-shaped eyes twinkling playfully.

Eh. Rob could live with a little glitchiness in appearance, given his own appearance wasn't entirely stable. Yeah, there was nothing wrong with that. Relative to the issues he'd seen today, a little image changing was nothing.

Then he blinked, and suddenly Alex was Asian.

"Erm!" Rob said suddenly, before biting his tongue. He gestured towards the man. "What's with the, er…?"

Puzzled, Alex looked down at his arms. He chuckled lightly, as if discovering he had a small stain on his shirt. "Oh, yeah, well, that happens from time to time. I'm still getting settled, you see."

He blinked, and then Rob blinked, and in that time, Alex's face had materialised an eyepatch.

Rob stared, mystified. Alex passed a finger over the patch with a curious amusement. "Hm, no, I'm sure these changes will revert. They're a bit out there, aren't they?"

Rob's eye narrowed, then, he blinked very deliberately. As promised, Alex reverted to his previous white two-eyed self, but now his features were coated in tv static, just like Rob's. Plus he had a hook hand.

"Ok, I think you need to be a bit more established first," Rob said flatly.

Alex frowned. Assumedly - it was now buried under an enormously thick black beard, which shook as he talked. "Alright, mate. Well, if you ever need anything else, you now have my number."

Rob closed his eye and didn't look up again until he heard the door handle click closed.

To be honest, he was looking forward to seeing what became of Alex (if he didn't end up as a pirate). He had real potential and a allure of mystery. But it would be a couple of years before he would be ready and Rob couldn't afford to wait that long. His search of the forces of evil would have to continue.

I have to say this is the fastest chapter of anything that I've written in a while. It's been terrific fun thus far. Thanks again to PaperMedicFoxtrot for the core idea and contributions.

Alex there at the end is a reference to a new show that is being pitched by an internet acquaintance. I wish said buddy the best of luck.

Feel free to suggest more interview candidates! Otherwise, I have quite a few more ideas, so watch this space!