There were many advantages to being an evil emperor. Advantages a do-gooder like Lightyear never got to enjoy. For one thing, there were all the minions rushing around to do your bidding. You wake up at 2 AM Planet Z time and feel like a snack? No problem—just send Darkmatter out to raid a shipment of chocolate-covered Mahambian nuts.
Then there was the scare factor. Stand in the shadows, say nothing, flex your claws menacingly, light up your eyes a little—it never failed to make people quiver. There was nothing like the thrill of being feared.
There was also the money. Being evil opened up so many more opportunities for acquiring it, and Zurg was never one to waste such opportunities. Why toil your life away under a corrupt system, all for a few lousy uni-bucks, when you could simply take as much as you wanted?
And of course, there were the clothes. Space Rangers had to wear uniforms. Evil emperors got to wear costumes. Zurg revelled in the dramatic potential his cape offered and the sinister gleam of his thick, razor-edged battle armour. Best of all, though, were the floor-length purple robes.
Yes, Zurg thought, if there was one thing that truly exemplified the perks of being an evil emperor, it was the fact that he could go to work in his socks and no one would ever know. He'd once conquered a whole planet in his kitten slippers. It was the most comfortable surrender negotiation he'd ever presided over.
Lightyear could never be that casual on the job, now could he?
