Outside the apartment building, draped in a tattered quilt, was Éponine, a poor young woman who, despite all that she wished she owned and all that she did not have, would still give to those needier than her – sometimes even people more fortunate and privileged. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a messy bun, so that strands fell before her eyes. Within her tiny, grey fingers were flyers – obviously made with word and clip art – talking about a new place for a soup kitchen. Éponine held her flyers out to all passing, each a privileged person who would come home to a warm bed and full fridge, her eyes full of hope.
"Will you lend a caring hand
To shelter those who need it
Only have to sign your name
Don't even have to read it
Would you help… No? How about you?"
People walked by, not sparing her or her flyers a glance. This wasn't as horrid as when people did look at her and her flyers, then purposely avoided her – mumbling, "Don't make eye contact, just keep moving."
Down the stairs and into the alley came Dr Combeforrible, only he didn't look like Dr Combeforrible at all, and more like… more like… well, more like your average young man who wouldn't be wasting time on evil experiments when there are footballs to catch and barbecues to buy. This was all part of the Dr's plan, of course, and he smirked at his genius to wear what he called the "Combeferre persona," a somewhat dorky guy with thick framed glasses and a large collection of flannels. Although… Combeferre did not differ from Combeforrible too terribly much, because despite appearance they were very much in possession of the same mind.
Still, cackling, Combeferre retrieved the receiver from his duffel bag and threw it at the van that would hold the ingredient he so desperately needed. The machine attached to the vehicle and clamped into place, the program appearing on the villain's phone, complete with a flashing green box reading SYNCED.
"Will you lend a caring han –"
"Ah! Aaah!" Startled, Combeferre tossed his phone upward. Éponine made a move to catch it, but the villain snatched it mid-air. "Ah! Ah… Hah! What?" Combeferre's eyes widened in shock, blue orbs becoming simple rings around a blown pupil. He felt his knees shake under him and the phone in his hands began to slip once again. There she was! She was just standing there, moving her mouth and tongue and actually talking to him! Why did she choose now to talk to him, when he was focusing more on the phone in his hand and the van across the street than on this wonderful woman before him?
Éponine drew back slightly, probably a little shocked, but carried on like the trooper she was, presenting him with one of her flyers. "I was wondering if I could… could…" her words slowed, and she began to study his face. "Hey! I know you!"
She began smiling, and that was end for Combeferre. We're talking game over, man, game over! Danger danger, Will Robinson! Everything he said came out in jumbled waves of words, like so: "Hello. You know me? Cool. I mean, yeah, you do. Do you?"
"From the Laundromat?" she guessed with a grin.
Combeferre began to ramble nervously again, first absentmindedly; "Wednesdays and Saturdays, except twice last month you skipped the weekend," then flustered; "Or, if that was you. It could have been somebody else. I mean, I've seen you," and finally, his saving grace, somewhat suave; "Combeferre is my name."
"I'm Éponine," she replied. The young woman stared at him, how he didn't even seem to care she was there. Combeferre kicked himself mentally for each button he pressed on the controls instead of speaking to Éponine. "What are you doing?"
"Uh, texting, you know," he replied prior to it dawning on him that texting was still, if not more, rude. "It's very important or I would stop. Mom… hospital…"
"Oh! What happened?"
"Oh, you know…" mumbled Combeferre, constructing something quickly, "hit by a shark."
"Excuse me?" Éponine questioned, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"Like, she was swimming and stuff and a shark just… hit her… I suppose… What are you doing?"
"Actually, I'm out here volunteering for the Caring Hands Homeless Shelter. Can you spare a minute?"
"Just about… OK, go."
"OK, well, umm, we're hoping to open up a new location soon, expand our efforts. There's this great building nearby that the city is just going to demolish and turn into a parking lot," she pulled out a clip board and petition, with five names scrawled on it already, "but if we get enough signatures…"
On reflex, Combeferre scoffed. "Signatures?"
Éponine nodded slowly. "Yeah, signatures."
"I'm sorry, go on…"
"Right… I was saying, um, maybe we could get the city to donate the building to our cause. We would be able to provide 250 new beds," she continued, but, again, slowed down as Combeferre became distracted by his phone's beeping. "Get people off the streets and into job training so they could… buy rocket packs and go to Kansas and become… sales associates… You're not really interested in the homeless, are you?"
"No, I am!" Combeferre insisted. "Love the homeless. Go… homeless… The… The issue is that they're a symptom. You're feeding the symptom and thus the disease rages on, consumes the human race. Like… the fish rots from the head, you know, they say that somewhere, so I think why not just cut off the head?"
"From the human race?" Éponine said, shifting her weight uncomfortably.
"It's not a perfect metaphor," he admitted, "but I'm hoping the message got across. I'm talking about an overhaul of the system. Putting the power in a different pair of hands."
"I'm for that, I guess," she said. "But this petition, it's for the building…"
"I'd love to sign," he blurted, taking the pen and scratching his name on the line (as well as adding Meauxst and his mother's (for the cause, people)). "Sorry I come on strong."
"But you signed," she murmured, looking at the petition with a toothy grin.
"Wouldn't want to turn my back on a fellow laundry person…" Combeferre chuckled nervously.
"I'll see you there… Maybe we could…"
"No, I will, I'll…" He became distracted by the Wonderflonium being packed into the van. Éponine, taken aback and exhausted from a simple attempt at conversation, sighed and left. "I'll just… She's gone… She talked to me. Why did she talk to me now? I could probably… Maybe I should…"
For a split second, love triumphed all, and the Wonderflonium would have escaped his horrible grasp, but Combeferre's heart could not paramount his need to join the Evil League of Evil, and soon the villain re-emerged as Dr Combeforrible!
"A man's gotta do
what a man's gotta do
Don't plan the plan
If you can't follow through
All that matters
Taking matters into your own hands
Soon I'll control everything
My wish is your command – woAH!"
A large figure collided with his somewhat thin frame, and sent Dr Combeforrible tripping over his duffel bag. The remote control stopped working. 'Why won't this thing work?' he thought, pressing and banging his phone in hopes the SYNCED button would once again light up. "What's wrong with this thing?"
"Stand back Everyone,
Nothin here to see…"
"Oh, no…"
"Just imminent danger
In the middle of it, me…"
"Please, not this bitch."
"Yes! Captain Montparnammer's here
Hair Blowing in the Breeze…"
"Kill me now!"
"The day needs my saving expertise!
A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do
It seems destiny ends with me saving you
The only doom that's looming is you loving me to death
So I'll give you a sec to catch your breath!"
Combeforrible gasped as the van spiralled out of control and nearly hit an unsuspecting citizen, no, unsuspecting love of his life. The controls connected at the last minute and the villain stopped the van, gasping for breath and searching for Éponine. Captain Montparnammer stood up from a pile of trash bins and garbage bags, revealing the young woman slumped among them like another sack of unwanted things.
"You idiot!" he shouted, walking into view.
"Dr Combeforrible," boomed (well, no really, he just talked with an incredibly loud and obnoxious voice) Montparnammer. "I should have known you were behind this."
"You almost killed her!" the villain whined.
The hero shrugged pompously. "I remember it differently."
Dr Combeforrible began walking toward Éponine. "Is she… ugh!"
Thick fingers locked around his neck, and he felt his feet leave the ground. His own fingers grabbed at the strong hand currently ceasing all air flow in his body.
"It's curtains for you, Dr Combeforrible," growled Captain Montparnammer. "Lacy, gently wafting curtains."
He had to stop struggling and, you know, dying for a couple seconds to try and accept that statement for what it was, and despite the ability to just forget it and return to the whole villain v. hero thing they were doing, he couldn't resist going, "Whuh?" in a strangled voice.
"I really don't… Look! She's getting up!"
Éponine stood up, took one look at Captain Montparnammer being heroic and battling a villain, and broke Combeforrible's heart in the most painful of ways; falling in love.
"Thank you Hammer-Man
I don't think I can
Explain how important it was
That you stopped the van
I would be splattered
I'd be crushed into debris
Thank you sir for saving me."
"Don't worry about it – A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do…"
"You came from above…"
"Are you kidding?"
"It seems destiny ends with me saving you…"
"I wonder what you're captain of?"
"What heist were you watching? Stop looking at her like that!"
"When you're the best you can't rest, what's the use?"
"My heart is beating like a drum…"
"Did you notice that he threw you in the garbage?"
"If there's ass needs kicking some ticking bomb to defuse…"
"Must be… Must be in shock…"
"I stopped the van! The remote control was in my hand!"
"The only doom that's looming is you loving me to death!"
"Assuming I'm not loving you to death…"
"Whaat-e-verrrr…"
"So please give me a sec to catch my breath…"
Combeforrible grabbed the Wonderflonium bitterly and left, taking one look at the pair with disgust. Why do the good guys always get the good things? He wasn't a bad person. He was three times the man Montparnammer was; he was just evil. There is a difference, you know. It didn't matter now, did it, though? He'd ruined all of his chances with Éponine for both identities. She thought Combeferre was a jerk and Combeforrible a losing villain. Only one word could give his emotions justice: "Balls."