(The main building of Glomgold Industries, seventeenth floor)
"As for Legend of Tarzan," came Hades' voice from the phone. "Clayton and Sabor blow all of them out of the water. And the other series either lack villains or wish they did."
"I've finally finished the list," Flintheart informed. "Took me a few hours, but it's done. Can you believe we forgot Cruella and Ursula?"
"I know. Ouch. But I won't tell if you won't."
"The first meeting is tonight."
"Badda-bing, what do I bring?"
"How about the rest of the Hercules delegation, cosmo?"
"Refresh my memory. Who's in it?"
"It's you, Pain, Panic, Loki, and Hecate."
Hades' flame 'hair' flared up. "Hecate?! Why the heck would you want Hecate in the club?"
"She's clever and gives Magica de Spell a run for her money in the magic department." Plus I need someone to keep you in line, Glomgold thought.
"But she's a witch!"
Flintheart wasn't sure whether to take that statement figuratively or literally.
"By the way," began Hades. "I want you to do me a favor."
"What?"
"Make me Vice President."
"WHAT?!"
"You heard me. The DASAC was my idea, so I should be one of the officers."
"Oh, fine. I'll stuff the ballot box during the election. Like I always say; if you can't beat 'em, cheat 'em! See you at the meeting." The tycoon hung up the phone and read over his master list:
The Disney Animated Series Antagonists Coalition (DASAC)
Wuzzles
Croc, Flizzard
Adventures of the Gummi Bears:
Duke Sigmund Igthorn, Lady Bane, Toadie
DuckTales:
Ma Beagle, Big Time Beagle, Baggy Beagle, Burger Beagle, Bouncer Beagle, Magica de Spell
Chip N' Dales Rescue Rangers:
Fat Cat, Mepps, Mole, Wart, Professor Norton Nimnul
TaleSpin:
Don Karnage, Maddog, Dumptruck, Colonel Spigot, Sergeant Dunder, Douglas Benson
Darkwing Duck:
Steelbeak, Taurus Bulba, Negaduck, Megavolt, Quackerjack, Dr. Reginald Bushroot, the Liquidator
Goof Troop/House of Mouse:
Pete
Bonkers:
Al Vermin, The Collector, Lillith DuPrave
Aladdin:
Abis Mal, Mozenrath, Selene, Sadira, Mechanicles, Mirage
The Little Mermaid:
Ursula, the Evil Manta
Gargoyles:
Demona, Dr. Anton Sevarius, Thailog
Mighty Ducks:
Lord Dragaunus, Siege, Wraith, Chameleon, Asteroth
One Hundred and One Dalmatians:
Cruella deVil
Quack Pack:
Moltoc
The Proud Family:
The Gross Sisters: Nubia, Gina, and O'Lay
Kim Possible:
Dr. Drakken, Shego, Monkey Fist, Signor Senior, Sr., Gill
Teamo Supremo (I have a bad feeling about this delegation):
Birthday Bandit, Hypnotheria, Madame Snake, Mr. Vague, Baron Blitz
Fillmore:
Brad Parnassus
Flintheart tucked the list into his pocket. He strolled down the hall and went through a set of double doors. "Is everything ready?"
"I guess so." His lackey, McWhirtley, pushed the last chair into place. The room was spacious, with several tables of various sizes in a semicircle. A large mahogany desk was at the head of the conversation hall. "I just finished setting up the tallyboard."
Flintheart moved toward the desk. Just behind it was the tallyboard, which consisted of three columns; yea, abstain, and nay. The center row contained several small plates, labeled with different initials: W, GB, DT, CNDRR, TS subscript 1, DWD, GT/HoM, B, A, LM, G, MD, QP, TPF, KP, TS subscript 2, and F. The Scottish duck slid one plate to the left column, then slid it back. "Good work. I'll be right back."
McWhirtley whistled as he finished placing placards on the table, telling which delegation to sit at which table.
The door creaked open. "Is this the Disney Animated Series' Antagonists Coalition?"
The lackey turned to face the speaker. "Yes, sir. Whom do I have the pleasure of serving first?"
The stranger, wrapped in a brown trenchcoat, held out his Disney Villains Association membership card. "I'm Moltoc, the delegate from Quack Pack. And who might you be?"
"Johannes McWhirtley, Coalition Assistant. If you need anything at all, be it SPF 1000 sunblock or a drink, just call my name and there won't be too long to wait."
Moltoc rolled back the sleeve of his trenchcoat, revealing an expensive-looking watch on a pale wrist. "It's 6:05. My letter said that the Coalition convened at 6:00."
"Well, they should be milling in here soon. I haven't the foggiest idea how many dimensions there are in the Disney world, but there are a lot. And only so many gateways. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, soda?"
"Some coffee would hit the spot. Plain black, no sugar, no milk."
The assistant left the room as his pager beeped. "McWhirtley here."
"It's Maintenance. The elevator's stuck."
"You're kidding. And on the night we're expecting guests."
"Well, your guests are stuck in there."
"What?!"
"Seven of 'em. A bull who appears to be half metal, a rooster in a white tux, a jester, a mutant plant-duck, a guy who looks like he could be Darkwing Duck's twin brother, a dog made outta water, and a rat with an electric personality."
"Cripes. Well, fix it!"
"We're on it. Just tell the boss."
"Why me?" sighed McWhirtley. "Boss!"
"What is it?" asked Flintheart.
"The entire Darkwing Duck delegation is stuck in the elevator!"
"Is maintenance fixing it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then what's to worry about?"
"But boss! They'll be furious!"
"So? Just apologize." Flintheart re-entered the convention hall.
"Easy for you to say," muttered McWhirtley, moving to the coffee machine and pouring a cup for Moltoc.
Several minutes passed. The elevator was repaired and once again in working order. The DuckTales delegation arrived.
Here's to an interesting future, thought McWhirtley, grateful that the Duckburg police wouldn't be finding his corpse that night.
More clusters of baddies entered, easing the atmosphere.
Soon, the villains were hob-knobbing.
"Ursula, babe, lookin' good," Hades greeted the Sea Witch. They shook hands. The handshake emitted steam.
"Nubia!" Brad hugged the eldest Gross sister. "Been a while!"
"How are things at X?" asked Nubia.
"Ingrid Third got a 100% on an algebra test."
"And that affects you how?"
"I got 98%." Brad glanced at a blue boar. "Nubia, allow me to introduce Colonel Ivanov Spigot of Thembria. Thembria's median January temperature is 20 below, their population is 3,200. Dat hoe de dingen dalen."
"Speak plain, Parnassus!" snapped the diminutive colonel. "You know I don't speak Swedish!"
"It's Dutch," explained Brad. "A tribute to the peace and harmony of the TaleSpin delegation."
"What are you talking about? You know neither Sergeant Dunder nor I can stand the sight of that strutting popinjay!"
"Oh, yes. Nube, this is Sergeant Dunder, also of Thembria. Forgive me, good sir, but how can I see you when you're standing in the Colonel's shadow?"
"Or lack thereof," Nubia said snottily.
"Are you implying I'm short?" asked Spigot.
"No."
"Good."
"I'm saying it out loud. You're short."
Magica de Spell set a glass of black fluid in front of Negaduck. "This will cure anything you've got. Just don't ask what's in it."
Negaduck nodded. "With this cold, I'm ready to drink anything." He gulped down the inky brew -- and instantly regretted it. The remedy seemed to stick in his throat. His eyes watered as he struggled to get it down. "If this is some sort of joke--" he stopped. His voice no longer sounded stuffed up.
Magica grinned. "Works every time."
Cruella deVil prepared to light up a cigarette when McWhirtley shot a reproachful glance in her direction. She frowned, plucked the offensive article out of her trademark cigarette holder, and put it back in her purse. "Everyone's so afraid of getting lung cancer these days."
Finally Flintheart felt ready to call the meeting to order. "Attention."
The din continued. At least, until Negaduck fired his revolver in the air. Everyone quieted down. Those who were standing up were immediately seated.
The president of the Coalition sat at the desk. "For those of you who aren't familiar with me, I'm Flintheart Glomgold. McWhirtley, call the meeting to order."
McWhirtley held a silver cowbell over his head and rang it. "The Disney Animated Series' Antagonists Coalition, meeting in the city of Duckburg on March 20, 2003 in ordinary human time; the first meeting."
"Read the minutes of the last meeting."
"But this is the first meeting."
Flintheart took off his tam o' shanter. "I know. But we've got to go by the Mickey Mouse protocol. We're Disney characters. What'll the people reading this fic think? Call the roll."
McWhirtley ran through his checklist. "All present and accounted for except Lillith DuPrave, the Collector, and Al Vermin. In other words, the entire Bonkers delegation."
Everyone turned to look at the empty table.
"I'm concerned about the absence of one-seventeenth of this organization," commented Flintheart. "Where is Bonkers?"
"Somewhere in Toontown," quipped Dr. Anton Sevarius.
The entire coalition roared with laughter.
"We'll get back to them," added Flintheart. "First order of business. The purpose." He pulled a sheet of paper from his blue coat. "I have called you all here because while a few of us are living in fame as Disney's worst creations--" everyone glanced at Cruella, Ursula, and Pete. "The others have almost been forgotten. The just are beginning to seek justice. The meek are starting to stand on their own. We can't let that happen! We've a mission that is old, and it's time we reminded our audiences about that!"
A few members nodded. Some even clapped.
"Next order," continued the president. "The nominations for offices. We will start with Vice President. The duties of the Vice President are defined as follows: in the absence of the president, the vice president will take his place. If the president were to kick the bucket, the VP will be his successor." Flintheart snapped his fingers. Eight armed bodyguards appeared behind him. "But lest you get any ideas." He looked around. "Any nominations?"
"We've got one," piped up Pain.
"One who's a real deadhead," joked his partner, Panic.
"Our boss, King of the Underworld, Hades!" they said in unison.
Hades stood up and bowed.
Hecate rolled her eyes while several members of the coalition groaned. Loki looked away and whistled.
"Nominating yourself, eh?" commented the Birthday Bandit.
"How modest," added Baron Blitz snidely.
"Hey, I've got a kingdom of my own, plus a million dead souls in said kingdom. Mortals live in fear of my name, and may I add, I've got all eternity. Which, may I add, you don't. Heh."
"I may not have a kingdom," snapped the Birthday Bandit. "But I've robbed every birthday party in the state."
"McWhirtley!" called Mr. Vague. "Go to that place and get me that thing."
"Birthday parties?" snickered Nubia Gross. "My sisters and I graduated from that a long time ago."
The clown stood up. "Care to back that up?"
The Gross sisters leaped up. Nubia, as usual, did all the talking: "You're plain petty and small-minded."
"How dare you!" hissed Madame Snake.
"We are not amused," Hypnotheria added.
"We will be insulted by a trio of little girls. We don't need this stupid congress!" cried Baron Blitz. "Let's go back to the state!"
The entire Teamo Supremo delegation stood up and walked out.
"McWhirtley!" called Flintheart.
"I'm on it." McWhirtley ran to the tallyboard, pried the 'TS, subscript 2' plate off its column, and pushed the ones below it up to fill the gap.
"We're better off without that bunch of squeebs," commented Gill.
"Thank you. Any other nominations?" asked President Glomgold.
"I'd nominate myself, but Vice President of the DVA is disqualified," Cruella said, shrugging.
Demona raised her hand. "I nominate myself. I, too, am immortal. I'm sure my credentials precede me."
"Getting that down, McWhirtley?" asked the president.
McWhirtley was typing furiously on a laptop. "Yup. Hades and Demona are running for VP."
"Do we have to make speeches?" asked Duke Igthorn.
"Of course not!" Flintheart replied. "What are we? The United States Congress? Any others?"
No one else made a sound.
"Nominations will be accepted until the second meeting, during which we will vote," explained Flintheart. "Moving on. The next office is Secretary, who records the minutes of each meeting, calls the roll, and schedules the meetings. Are there any nominations?"
No one spoke.
"Seems like a lot of hard work," whispered Maddog, in his usual whiny voice.
McWhirtley read from a sheet of paper. "If there are no nominations for a particular office, I will fill in the office until the fifth meeting, during which our president will appoint one. Next office is Historian, who keeps a scrapbook of our evil endeavors, and takes photos for a roster."
Shego raised her hand. "I can do that."
Dr. Drakken looked at her questioningly. "Why so eager?"
"My photos have been featured in Femme Fatale magazine, and it's none of your business why!"
"Any other nominations?" asked Flintheart.
"Too much work," moaned Baggy Beagle.
"I'm hungry," Baggy's brother, Burger, said to no one in particular. "McWhirtley! Get me a dozen donuts!"
Flintheart banged a small gavel on his desk. "The next office is Weapons Specialist, who keeps track of our arsenal and is our main military strategist. Intelligence and knowledge of various weapons is a must. A conscience is not a prerequisite, and it can even get in the way."
"Boy, have we got a guy for you!" called out Megavolt.
"With Negaduck, we can assure utter chaos and destruction!" bubbled the Liquidator.
"And no one would dare run against him," muttered Bushroot under his breath.
Negaduck stood up. "I'd be honored to accept the nomination and work under one of the greatest criminal minds this world has ever seen." And to think the Negaverse version of Flintheart Glomgold is completely wishy-washy.
The rest of the Darkwing Duck delegation stared at him, surprised. Steelbeak's steel beak opened, but he snapped it shut.
"Guess he's less egomaniacal than his soon-to-be-dead ringer," whispered Taurus Bulba to himself.
Negaduck pulled his revolver out of his jacket pocket and snatched an apple from a fruitbowl on the windowsill. He placed the apple on Quackerjack's jester hat. "Now move back."
The toymaker obeyed, and backed away. "Negaduck, are you sure this is saaaaaaafe?"
"I've practiced it on Gosalyn a few times, but that was a while back, so I'm not sure," replied the yellow-coated duck, referring to the Negaversion of Darkwing Duck's daughter. He pulled the trigger as most of the audience covered their ears. A few of the more softhearted members closed their eyes.
The bullet hit the center of the apple, releasing juice. Quackerjack laughed his infamous nutty laugh, in relief. Most of the coalition clapped.
"Show-off," berated Steelbeak.
"Slightly less," amended Bulba. "Very slightly less."
"Any other nominations?" asked Flintheart, once again.
No one spoke up.
"Moving on to Coalition Custodian. This officer will make sure we have clean hideouts and wash any bloodstains off the floors when we go into battle against our enemies." Saves me on the cost of hiring a cleaner, too.
Mechanicles waved his hand wildly. "Ooh, ooh, me, me!" He pulled a remote control out of his chiton. "And I've got my latest invention to help. It's a vacuum machine." He pressed a large, red button.
There was a mechanical whirling, which got louder by the minute. What looked like a cross between a vacuum cleaner and a tank rolled in through the double doors. It scooted along the carpet.
Flintheart looked down at the floor. "Well, I'll be! I always thought this carpet was brown, but it's actually red!"
Mechanicles pushed a black button. The vacuum machine sputtered, then went faster. Instead of a straight line, it began going in circles. "Hey! That's not supposed to happen."
The vacuum cleaner sucked up the remote control.
"Uh oh," said the Greek inventor.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'UH OH'?!" screamed the rest of the Aladdin delegation.
"See for yourself!"
The vacuum cleaner began to go faster, sucking up the potted plants.
"SHUT IT OFF!" everyone yelled.
"I'm trying to!"
The machine by now was going on a rampage, sucking up Toadie, Chameleon, the Liquidator, Flizzard, Mozenrath's turban, a small Persian rug, Flintheart's tam o' shanter, one of Shego's gloves, one of Magica de Spell's black high heels, Big Time Beagle, Don Karnage's cutlass, and Dragaunus' purple cloak. It slowed to a stop, sputtered, then exploded.
The Liquidator, who had been in contact with the dirt in the chamber, was now a muddy brown. "Not responsible for unauthorized use of product!"
Mechanicles slunk back in his seat. "I'll shut up."
The door opened. "Is this the Disney Animated Series' Antagonists Coalition?"
"Yes, it is," replied Flintheart. "Please excuse the mess."
"Mess?" The voice was definitely female. "Then it means we're not too late." The speaker entered, with two companions.
"Who are you?" asked Brad, who was still fairly new to the DVA.
"I'm Lillith DuPrave," said the first speaker. She pointed to the companion on her left; a figure with green skin and blazing red eyes. On one hand, his fingers were pencils. On the other, the digits were sharpeners. "This is the Collector." She gestured to the other one, a rather large roach in a custom-made business suit. "And Al Vermin."
Vermin stated the obvious. "We're the Bonkers delegation. We're sorry we're late. We got a bit lost."
"Just sit down," instructed President Glomgold. "McWhirtley will fill you in on what you've missed."
Pete stood up. "May I have the floor? Well, I'm representing two shows, see? And I was thinking when I vote, my vote should count twice."
"Fine, Pete," sighed President Glomgold. "Let's take a vote. All in favor of Pete's vote counting twice, say yay."
"Yay!" cried Pete.
"All against say nay."
"NAY!" shouted the rest of the coalition.
"Very well," Flintheart straightened his jacket. "The proposal is defeated."
Pete sat down and pouted.
Hades stood up. "I've got a proposal. We're gathered together to accomplish our goals, and be recognized for doing so, right? And what better way to get the attention of the DVA than to succeed where they failed?"
"Meaning?" asked Moltoc.
Hades' lips curled into his infamous evil smile. "Remember the House of Mouse takeover on Halloween?"
"How can we forget?" moaned Ursula.
"Fun while it lasted," sighed Cruella.
"But we didn't have a chance," acknowledged Hades.
"In retrospect, President Hook shouldn't have made Jafar in charge of it," realized Ursula.
"Waiting until midnight was his stupid idea," groaned Cruella.
"You got it, girls. We, the DASAC, are a much more capable group. So I move that our first official action is to take over the House of Mouse, and hold on to it longer than the first time."
"And I second it!" cried Panic.
"And I third it!" called Pain.
"Pain, Panic, in your pathetic eagerness to earn your boss' favor, you've forgotten that Hercules cannot second its own motion!" growled Flintheart.
Pete stood up. "I second it."
"The motion has been moved and seconded. We will take a five minute recess, then discuss and vote," Flintheart slammed down the gavel.
TBC.
"As for Legend of Tarzan," came Hades' voice from the phone. "Clayton and Sabor blow all of them out of the water. And the other series either lack villains or wish they did."
"I've finally finished the list," Flintheart informed. "Took me a few hours, but it's done. Can you believe we forgot Cruella and Ursula?"
"I know. Ouch. But I won't tell if you won't."
"The first meeting is tonight."
"Badda-bing, what do I bring?"
"How about the rest of the Hercules delegation, cosmo?"
"Refresh my memory. Who's in it?"
"It's you, Pain, Panic, Loki, and Hecate."
Hades' flame 'hair' flared up. "Hecate?! Why the heck would you want Hecate in the club?"
"She's clever and gives Magica de Spell a run for her money in the magic department." Plus I need someone to keep you in line, Glomgold thought.
"But she's a witch!"
Flintheart wasn't sure whether to take that statement figuratively or literally.
"By the way," began Hades. "I want you to do me a favor."
"What?"
"Make me Vice President."
"WHAT?!"
"You heard me. The DASAC was my idea, so I should be one of the officers."
"Oh, fine. I'll stuff the ballot box during the election. Like I always say; if you can't beat 'em, cheat 'em! See you at the meeting." The tycoon hung up the phone and read over his master list:
The Disney Animated Series Antagonists Coalition (DASAC)
Wuzzles
Croc, Flizzard
Adventures of the Gummi Bears:
Duke Sigmund Igthorn, Lady Bane, Toadie
DuckTales:
Ma Beagle, Big Time Beagle, Baggy Beagle, Burger Beagle, Bouncer Beagle, Magica de Spell
Chip N' Dales Rescue Rangers:
Fat Cat, Mepps, Mole, Wart, Professor Norton Nimnul
TaleSpin:
Don Karnage, Maddog, Dumptruck, Colonel Spigot, Sergeant Dunder, Douglas Benson
Darkwing Duck:
Steelbeak, Taurus Bulba, Negaduck, Megavolt, Quackerjack, Dr. Reginald Bushroot, the Liquidator
Goof Troop/House of Mouse:
Pete
Bonkers:
Al Vermin, The Collector, Lillith DuPrave
Aladdin:
Abis Mal, Mozenrath, Selene, Sadira, Mechanicles, Mirage
The Little Mermaid:
Ursula, the Evil Manta
Gargoyles:
Demona, Dr. Anton Sevarius, Thailog
Mighty Ducks:
Lord Dragaunus, Siege, Wraith, Chameleon, Asteroth
One Hundred and One Dalmatians:
Cruella deVil
Quack Pack:
Moltoc
The Proud Family:
The Gross Sisters: Nubia, Gina, and O'Lay
Kim Possible:
Dr. Drakken, Shego, Monkey Fist, Signor Senior, Sr., Gill
Teamo Supremo (I have a bad feeling about this delegation):
Birthday Bandit, Hypnotheria, Madame Snake, Mr. Vague, Baron Blitz
Fillmore:
Brad Parnassus
Flintheart tucked the list into his pocket. He strolled down the hall and went through a set of double doors. "Is everything ready?"
"I guess so." His lackey, McWhirtley, pushed the last chair into place. The room was spacious, with several tables of various sizes in a semicircle. A large mahogany desk was at the head of the conversation hall. "I just finished setting up the tallyboard."
Flintheart moved toward the desk. Just behind it was the tallyboard, which consisted of three columns; yea, abstain, and nay. The center row contained several small plates, labeled with different initials: W, GB, DT, CNDRR, TS subscript 1, DWD, GT/HoM, B, A, LM, G, MD, QP, TPF, KP, TS subscript 2, and F. The Scottish duck slid one plate to the left column, then slid it back. "Good work. I'll be right back."
McWhirtley whistled as he finished placing placards on the table, telling which delegation to sit at which table.
The door creaked open. "Is this the Disney Animated Series' Antagonists Coalition?"
The lackey turned to face the speaker. "Yes, sir. Whom do I have the pleasure of serving first?"
The stranger, wrapped in a brown trenchcoat, held out his Disney Villains Association membership card. "I'm Moltoc, the delegate from Quack Pack. And who might you be?"
"Johannes McWhirtley, Coalition Assistant. If you need anything at all, be it SPF 1000 sunblock or a drink, just call my name and there won't be too long to wait."
Moltoc rolled back the sleeve of his trenchcoat, revealing an expensive-looking watch on a pale wrist. "It's 6:05. My letter said that the Coalition convened at 6:00."
"Well, they should be milling in here soon. I haven't the foggiest idea how many dimensions there are in the Disney world, but there are a lot. And only so many gateways. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, soda?"
"Some coffee would hit the spot. Plain black, no sugar, no milk."
The assistant left the room as his pager beeped. "McWhirtley here."
"It's Maintenance. The elevator's stuck."
"You're kidding. And on the night we're expecting guests."
"Well, your guests are stuck in there."
"What?!"
"Seven of 'em. A bull who appears to be half metal, a rooster in a white tux, a jester, a mutant plant-duck, a guy who looks like he could be Darkwing Duck's twin brother, a dog made outta water, and a rat with an electric personality."
"Cripes. Well, fix it!"
"We're on it. Just tell the boss."
"Why me?" sighed McWhirtley. "Boss!"
"What is it?" asked Flintheart.
"The entire Darkwing Duck delegation is stuck in the elevator!"
"Is maintenance fixing it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then what's to worry about?"
"But boss! They'll be furious!"
"So? Just apologize." Flintheart re-entered the convention hall.
"Easy for you to say," muttered McWhirtley, moving to the coffee machine and pouring a cup for Moltoc.
Several minutes passed. The elevator was repaired and once again in working order. The DuckTales delegation arrived.
Here's to an interesting future, thought McWhirtley, grateful that the Duckburg police wouldn't be finding his corpse that night.
More clusters of baddies entered, easing the atmosphere.
Soon, the villains were hob-knobbing.
"Ursula, babe, lookin' good," Hades greeted the Sea Witch. They shook hands. The handshake emitted steam.
"Nubia!" Brad hugged the eldest Gross sister. "Been a while!"
"How are things at X?" asked Nubia.
"Ingrid Third got a 100% on an algebra test."
"And that affects you how?"
"I got 98%." Brad glanced at a blue boar. "Nubia, allow me to introduce Colonel Ivanov Spigot of Thembria. Thembria's median January temperature is 20 below, their population is 3,200. Dat hoe de dingen dalen."
"Speak plain, Parnassus!" snapped the diminutive colonel. "You know I don't speak Swedish!"
"It's Dutch," explained Brad. "A tribute to the peace and harmony of the TaleSpin delegation."
"What are you talking about? You know neither Sergeant Dunder nor I can stand the sight of that strutting popinjay!"
"Oh, yes. Nube, this is Sergeant Dunder, also of Thembria. Forgive me, good sir, but how can I see you when you're standing in the Colonel's shadow?"
"Or lack thereof," Nubia said snottily.
"Are you implying I'm short?" asked Spigot.
"No."
"Good."
"I'm saying it out loud. You're short."
Magica de Spell set a glass of black fluid in front of Negaduck. "This will cure anything you've got. Just don't ask what's in it."
Negaduck nodded. "With this cold, I'm ready to drink anything." He gulped down the inky brew -- and instantly regretted it. The remedy seemed to stick in his throat. His eyes watered as he struggled to get it down. "If this is some sort of joke--" he stopped. His voice no longer sounded stuffed up.
Magica grinned. "Works every time."
Cruella deVil prepared to light up a cigarette when McWhirtley shot a reproachful glance in her direction. She frowned, plucked the offensive article out of her trademark cigarette holder, and put it back in her purse. "Everyone's so afraid of getting lung cancer these days."
Finally Flintheart felt ready to call the meeting to order. "Attention."
The din continued. At least, until Negaduck fired his revolver in the air. Everyone quieted down. Those who were standing up were immediately seated.
The president of the Coalition sat at the desk. "For those of you who aren't familiar with me, I'm Flintheart Glomgold. McWhirtley, call the meeting to order."
McWhirtley held a silver cowbell over his head and rang it. "The Disney Animated Series' Antagonists Coalition, meeting in the city of Duckburg on March 20, 2003 in ordinary human time; the first meeting."
"Read the minutes of the last meeting."
"But this is the first meeting."
Flintheart took off his tam o' shanter. "I know. But we've got to go by the Mickey Mouse protocol. We're Disney characters. What'll the people reading this fic think? Call the roll."
McWhirtley ran through his checklist. "All present and accounted for except Lillith DuPrave, the Collector, and Al Vermin. In other words, the entire Bonkers delegation."
Everyone turned to look at the empty table.
"I'm concerned about the absence of one-seventeenth of this organization," commented Flintheart. "Where is Bonkers?"
"Somewhere in Toontown," quipped Dr. Anton Sevarius.
The entire coalition roared with laughter.
"We'll get back to them," added Flintheart. "First order of business. The purpose." He pulled a sheet of paper from his blue coat. "I have called you all here because while a few of us are living in fame as Disney's worst creations--" everyone glanced at Cruella, Ursula, and Pete. "The others have almost been forgotten. The just are beginning to seek justice. The meek are starting to stand on their own. We can't let that happen! We've a mission that is old, and it's time we reminded our audiences about that!"
A few members nodded. Some even clapped.
"Next order," continued the president. "The nominations for offices. We will start with Vice President. The duties of the Vice President are defined as follows: in the absence of the president, the vice president will take his place. If the president were to kick the bucket, the VP will be his successor." Flintheart snapped his fingers. Eight armed bodyguards appeared behind him. "But lest you get any ideas." He looked around. "Any nominations?"
"We've got one," piped up Pain.
"One who's a real deadhead," joked his partner, Panic.
"Our boss, King of the Underworld, Hades!" they said in unison.
Hades stood up and bowed.
Hecate rolled her eyes while several members of the coalition groaned. Loki looked away and whistled.
"Nominating yourself, eh?" commented the Birthday Bandit.
"How modest," added Baron Blitz snidely.
"Hey, I've got a kingdom of my own, plus a million dead souls in said kingdom. Mortals live in fear of my name, and may I add, I've got all eternity. Which, may I add, you don't. Heh."
"I may not have a kingdom," snapped the Birthday Bandit. "But I've robbed every birthday party in the state."
"McWhirtley!" called Mr. Vague. "Go to that place and get me that thing."
"Birthday parties?" snickered Nubia Gross. "My sisters and I graduated from that a long time ago."
The clown stood up. "Care to back that up?"
The Gross sisters leaped up. Nubia, as usual, did all the talking: "You're plain petty and small-minded."
"How dare you!" hissed Madame Snake.
"We are not amused," Hypnotheria added.
"We will be insulted by a trio of little girls. We don't need this stupid congress!" cried Baron Blitz. "Let's go back to the state!"
The entire Teamo Supremo delegation stood up and walked out.
"McWhirtley!" called Flintheart.
"I'm on it." McWhirtley ran to the tallyboard, pried the 'TS, subscript 2' plate off its column, and pushed the ones below it up to fill the gap.
"We're better off without that bunch of squeebs," commented Gill.
"Thank you. Any other nominations?" asked President Glomgold.
"I'd nominate myself, but Vice President of the DVA is disqualified," Cruella said, shrugging.
Demona raised her hand. "I nominate myself. I, too, am immortal. I'm sure my credentials precede me."
"Getting that down, McWhirtley?" asked the president.
McWhirtley was typing furiously on a laptop. "Yup. Hades and Demona are running for VP."
"Do we have to make speeches?" asked Duke Igthorn.
"Of course not!" Flintheart replied. "What are we? The United States Congress? Any others?"
No one else made a sound.
"Nominations will be accepted until the second meeting, during which we will vote," explained Flintheart. "Moving on. The next office is Secretary, who records the minutes of each meeting, calls the roll, and schedules the meetings. Are there any nominations?"
No one spoke.
"Seems like a lot of hard work," whispered Maddog, in his usual whiny voice.
McWhirtley read from a sheet of paper. "If there are no nominations for a particular office, I will fill in the office until the fifth meeting, during which our president will appoint one. Next office is Historian, who keeps a scrapbook of our evil endeavors, and takes photos for a roster."
Shego raised her hand. "I can do that."
Dr. Drakken looked at her questioningly. "Why so eager?"
"My photos have been featured in Femme Fatale magazine, and it's none of your business why!"
"Any other nominations?" asked Flintheart.
"Too much work," moaned Baggy Beagle.
"I'm hungry," Baggy's brother, Burger, said to no one in particular. "McWhirtley! Get me a dozen donuts!"
Flintheart banged a small gavel on his desk. "The next office is Weapons Specialist, who keeps track of our arsenal and is our main military strategist. Intelligence and knowledge of various weapons is a must. A conscience is not a prerequisite, and it can even get in the way."
"Boy, have we got a guy for you!" called out Megavolt.
"With Negaduck, we can assure utter chaos and destruction!" bubbled the Liquidator.
"And no one would dare run against him," muttered Bushroot under his breath.
Negaduck stood up. "I'd be honored to accept the nomination and work under one of the greatest criminal minds this world has ever seen." And to think the Negaverse version of Flintheart Glomgold is completely wishy-washy.
The rest of the Darkwing Duck delegation stared at him, surprised. Steelbeak's steel beak opened, but he snapped it shut.
"Guess he's less egomaniacal than his soon-to-be-dead ringer," whispered Taurus Bulba to himself.
Negaduck pulled his revolver out of his jacket pocket and snatched an apple from a fruitbowl on the windowsill. He placed the apple on Quackerjack's jester hat. "Now move back."
The toymaker obeyed, and backed away. "Negaduck, are you sure this is saaaaaaafe?"
"I've practiced it on Gosalyn a few times, but that was a while back, so I'm not sure," replied the yellow-coated duck, referring to the Negaversion of Darkwing Duck's daughter. He pulled the trigger as most of the audience covered their ears. A few of the more softhearted members closed their eyes.
The bullet hit the center of the apple, releasing juice. Quackerjack laughed his infamous nutty laugh, in relief. Most of the coalition clapped.
"Show-off," berated Steelbeak.
"Slightly less," amended Bulba. "Very slightly less."
"Any other nominations?" asked Flintheart, once again.
No one spoke up.
"Moving on to Coalition Custodian. This officer will make sure we have clean hideouts and wash any bloodstains off the floors when we go into battle against our enemies." Saves me on the cost of hiring a cleaner, too.
Mechanicles waved his hand wildly. "Ooh, ooh, me, me!" He pulled a remote control out of his chiton. "And I've got my latest invention to help. It's a vacuum machine." He pressed a large, red button.
There was a mechanical whirling, which got louder by the minute. What looked like a cross between a vacuum cleaner and a tank rolled in through the double doors. It scooted along the carpet.
Flintheart looked down at the floor. "Well, I'll be! I always thought this carpet was brown, but it's actually red!"
Mechanicles pushed a black button. The vacuum machine sputtered, then went faster. Instead of a straight line, it began going in circles. "Hey! That's not supposed to happen."
The vacuum cleaner sucked up the remote control.
"Uh oh," said the Greek inventor.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'UH OH'?!" screamed the rest of the Aladdin delegation.
"See for yourself!"
The vacuum cleaner began to go faster, sucking up the potted plants.
"SHUT IT OFF!" everyone yelled.
"I'm trying to!"
The machine by now was going on a rampage, sucking up Toadie, Chameleon, the Liquidator, Flizzard, Mozenrath's turban, a small Persian rug, Flintheart's tam o' shanter, one of Shego's gloves, one of Magica de Spell's black high heels, Big Time Beagle, Don Karnage's cutlass, and Dragaunus' purple cloak. It slowed to a stop, sputtered, then exploded.
The Liquidator, who had been in contact with the dirt in the chamber, was now a muddy brown. "Not responsible for unauthorized use of product!"
Mechanicles slunk back in his seat. "I'll shut up."
The door opened. "Is this the Disney Animated Series' Antagonists Coalition?"
"Yes, it is," replied Flintheart. "Please excuse the mess."
"Mess?" The voice was definitely female. "Then it means we're not too late." The speaker entered, with two companions.
"Who are you?" asked Brad, who was still fairly new to the DVA.
"I'm Lillith DuPrave," said the first speaker. She pointed to the companion on her left; a figure with green skin and blazing red eyes. On one hand, his fingers were pencils. On the other, the digits were sharpeners. "This is the Collector." She gestured to the other one, a rather large roach in a custom-made business suit. "And Al Vermin."
Vermin stated the obvious. "We're the Bonkers delegation. We're sorry we're late. We got a bit lost."
"Just sit down," instructed President Glomgold. "McWhirtley will fill you in on what you've missed."
Pete stood up. "May I have the floor? Well, I'm representing two shows, see? And I was thinking when I vote, my vote should count twice."
"Fine, Pete," sighed President Glomgold. "Let's take a vote. All in favor of Pete's vote counting twice, say yay."
"Yay!" cried Pete.
"All against say nay."
"NAY!" shouted the rest of the coalition.
"Very well," Flintheart straightened his jacket. "The proposal is defeated."
Pete sat down and pouted.
Hades stood up. "I've got a proposal. We're gathered together to accomplish our goals, and be recognized for doing so, right? And what better way to get the attention of the DVA than to succeed where they failed?"
"Meaning?" asked Moltoc.
Hades' lips curled into his infamous evil smile. "Remember the House of Mouse takeover on Halloween?"
"How can we forget?" moaned Ursula.
"Fun while it lasted," sighed Cruella.
"But we didn't have a chance," acknowledged Hades.
"In retrospect, President Hook shouldn't have made Jafar in charge of it," realized Ursula.
"Waiting until midnight was his stupid idea," groaned Cruella.
"You got it, girls. We, the DASAC, are a much more capable group. So I move that our first official action is to take over the House of Mouse, and hold on to it longer than the first time."
"And I second it!" cried Panic.
"And I third it!" called Pain.
"Pain, Panic, in your pathetic eagerness to earn your boss' favor, you've forgotten that Hercules cannot second its own motion!" growled Flintheart.
Pete stood up. "I second it."
"The motion has been moved and seconded. We will take a five minute recess, then discuss and vote," Flintheart slammed down the gavel.
TBC.