Biggers City.
On the surface, this small city resembles any other. It had its parks, its residential areas (both homes and brownstones), its sites of historical interest and, of course, its business district. Despite how simple this town seemed, however, it held one very special secret.
A hero.
A hero unlike the world had ever known before.
You might think that, with its hero, Biggers would be among the safest cities in the world. However, the truth is that heroes do not merely appear to protect peaceful places: they appear when people need them, to protect the poor and defenseless, and stop at nothing to do so. Heroes appear to stop the villains that lie in wait within the shadows.
One of Biggers's shadows took the form of a mansion that lurked on the city's outskirts, where the grass was always grey and the trees were always dead. A wrought iron fence surrounded the building, taller than the trees and with sharper points, despite the fact that no good soul dared venture near it.
Despite the summer sunshine that permeated the rest of the city, the mansion had a dreary and cold exterior. Its insides were a clinical scene: hundreds of people were packed in its spacious foyer, though little comradery existed between them. It was broken into several small groups, none larger than about ten, and with several people standing merely alone. A gentle whisper passed throughout the floor.
It was no party—that much was obvious from the throwing knives being twirled around fingers and the guns being reloaded. This was a convention of villains; though what they were there for, none had a clue.
Suddenly the near-silence was broken by a mechanical whirr. Then a click, and a rush of steam. Each crook looked up to the ceiling of the mansion as something flew down from its mezzanine. It resembled a flying saucer somewhat, and pushed out steam from some sort of jet in its back. As it flew down to observe the crowd it had gathered, so too could the villains observe its pilot.
He was a little hairless cat, an old man, with twitchy whiskers on his muzzle and within his large ears. He wore a lab coat and shiny rubber gloves that scampered across a keyboard. A toothsome grin parted the cat's lips.
"Today is the day that the mighty UNDERDOG falls!"
The crowd went still and silent. A few became startled at the man's statement, though the majority only peered at him as if the old man had fallen off his rocker. Despite the mild reaction, the cat lost none of his confidence. With equal bombasity, he began to explain himself.
"Though I'm sure you all know me, I shall introduce myself. I am Dr. Simon Barsinister, and much like you all, I have long been an enemy of our city's beloved hero, Underdog."
Simon swept his hand across the crowd as he addressed them. "Each of us have been brought to shame by our dear Underdog. That is why I have called you all here today, for I wish to unite us all as a sinister corps the likes of which Underdog has never seen! Apart, Underdog may exploit our weaknesses, but together, he will perish to our collective strength!"
These statements seemed far more enticing, as the crowd below looked up at him with glowing eyes and gnashing teeth. A few of them laughed to eachother, shoving their comrades around playfully in their excitement. Simon raised his pink glove upward, and the crowd simmered back down.
"Though it is true I don't truly know you all," he said, "I have called many of you here for specific reasons." Once more, Simon's paws swept over the crowd as he pointed out the people he meant. "Riff Raff!"
As his name was called, the crowd parted around the villain. He was a burly wolf in a freshly-pressed pinstripe suit, with oily fur and rings decorating his hands. A cigar hung lazily from his lips, and as he went to shake its ashes and beam, you could spot the feminine touch of eyeshadow that colored the white of his face. A crowd of his closest supporters gathered by him, dressed in similar attire, each laughing and poking fun at his confidence. Each wore sparkling cufflinks with the initials RR.
Simon continued, "You crafted the greatest collaboration of villains the city has ever seen—except for this one—when you started up Riffraffville. Had the West not been so barren, and Underdog not so lucky with his pills, we may all have still been there. Now, the time of Underdog's addiction is over. If he should be defeated, he will be defeated for good."
Simon moved across the crowd, throwing a light to a pond of darkness that gathered in the rear. Immediately, a cloud of ink-black bats fluttered out of the light and into the rafters, leaving only one tall man, and a shorter one beside him. "Giorgio and Batty Manning!" he announced.
Both men were bats, though Batty was tall, and his features were hard to distinguish. He wore a flowing black dress, with appropriate bat-wing sleeves. A large sun hat shadowed most of his face, and the only visible part of him were his glowing red eyes, which were so upturned it was safe to assume he was smiling. Pointy boots emerged from his dress, equally as black as the rest of his attire, and only distinguishable by the slight shine they had.
Giorgio (or Georgie as Batty typically called him) was far less secretive; he was a different species of bat, a little brown one, and was dressed in casual working-class attire. Within the sea of blazers and well-shined dress shoes, he looked little like a criminal.
Despite their strange appearances, Simon introduced them grandiosely. "One of you a fearsome mercenary, and the other an elusive vampire! Both of you, certain masters of stealth—not to mention your veritable army of bats! With your collective ability to strategize and lurk within the shadows, we shall tackle Underdog from any angle."
Simon moved across the crowd again, this time pointing at an odd creature. Though it was true that most of the citizens within Biggers were mammals and avians, creatures suited to breathing air, it was not an impossible feat to see someone aquatic. In fact, there was no aquatic person in Biggers as famous as this man was.
The Electric Eel was once an ordinary moray, but after climbing an electric fence to escape his imprisonment, had gained extraordinary powers over electricity. Simon explained to the crowd: Eel had a flare for flashy robberies and no fear of anything that might stop him. In addition to that, Eel had done something no other crook had come close to. For a few minutes, at least, Eel claimed to have killed Underdog. Simon needed little other explanation as for why the eel had been drafted.
Finally, Simon gestured to his last pick.
"My grandest achievement," he stated, "Overcat Cat's-ear of the planet, Felina!"
Despite how Simon felt about the warlord, Overcat hissed at him. He was a supermassive cat, with a coat so rich and deep one may have likened it to a black hole. He wore a yellow jumpsuit, cut into such a deep vee that you could see the equivalent of his "happy trail."
Overcat was a man who needed no introduction. Once an alien overlord who ruled over his planet with iron claws, Overcat invaded Earth's dairy supply after he had caused a drought within his own planet. When Underdog went to return Earth's dairy cows, the two ended up in a highly publicized wrestling match. For the first several rounds, it seemed that Overcat would win: he beat Underdog into a veritable pulp and barely broke a sweat (or the alien equivalent) while doing it.
However, in the final round, Underdog called upon his second greatest strength: his long-time friend, Polly Purebred. She had realized that what Overcat didn't have in agility, he made up for in brawn. With a plan formulated, Underdog used his speed to befuddle and defeat Overcat so thoroughly that his home planet exiled him in shame.
Overcat was not here for Simon's scheme—he was here for revenge, and nothing else.
There was silence in the wake of Overcat's introduction, save for one statement that was a little too loud to be a mere whisper.
"Yessss, squad goals, eh?"
Simon, along with everyone else, ignored the speaker. Simon's little saucer zoomed back up to face the crowd at large. He held his arms in the air to make himself bigger, and spoke so loudly and boisterously it seemed he was shouting.
"When we are done with Underdog, he will be nothing more to us than a mutt in need of punishment!"
Simon laughed maniacally, and the crowd below him followed. There were cheers and shouts, gunshots and electricity sparks, anything and everything to show the excitement of the crooks. Far away from them in his device, Simon stared down at his army with a smile across his face. It grew bigger still as he drank in the praise.
"Now!" Simon shouted with a growl rolling in the back of his throat. Quickly, the crowd quieted and returned their shining gazes up to him. This time, however, it was difficult for anyone to remain stagnant.
Simon continued, "My plan is simple. I have known Underdog for years, now, and I have studied him. Our friend has two great weaknesses, the same as any other man: his stamina, and his lady. I will have my assistant, Cad Lackey—" Simon motioned to him as he was mentioned. Cad peeked his head around the upper story wall and gave a small wave to the crowd before disappearing. "—kidnap Sweet Polly and bring her to a warehouse I've rented. Battyman, you will guide everyone on how and where to hide so that, when Underdog comes, he will not notice us."
"Why not bring Underdog here?" shouted someone from below. Simon scanned the crowd momentarily to find his doubter, feeling a small fire of rage burn momentarily inside him. The speaker was easy enough to find, as Simon was familiar with his voice.
This crook was a clownfish who never wore anything else except the ensemble of a medieval jester. He was once known as the Pie Man, but once a human came on the scene boasting the same name, the other crooks had collectively renamed him the Pie Prankster. Pranks himself thought it far less of an intimidating name, but Simon knew he was never scary anyway.
Simon clutched a joystick on his invention and tried not to let his anger bubble over. "He knows where I live," he countered. "If I did, he would come in expecting a plot."
Though the crowd's hackles raised, they remained silent.
Simon clapped his hands together. "Back to our plan. That is where we attack his stamina! Once, as many of you remember, Underdog held a pill made of pure adrenaline. But he had long been addicted—and he has long graduated rehab. Batty will lead Underdog into us all, and we shall attack him! We have no second wind to fear from Underdog, now—when he is defeated, it will be over!"
The crowd celebrated. Again came shouts and shoves and shots, and again Simon drank it in like a siren from his vantage point. Despite the general excitement echoing throughout the room, some still felt a little apprehension.
Riff took a drag of his cigar and crossed his arms. He muttered low enough so that the gloating Simon would not hear.
"I think it's a good enough plan as anybody," he grumbled to his Gang, "But it can't be that simple."
Eel slapped a hand onto his back. Riff jumped, both from the force of the impact, and the little bolt of lightning Eel had put into his old comrade. "The simplest things in life are the most obvious!" he exclaimed, his voice like shattering glass. "I killed Underdog once all on my own. With everyone else goin' for 'im, too, he won't stand a chance!"
Riff kept grumbling.
Above the cheers and above the doubts, Simon again raised his arms in the air. This time he did not control his shout, instead announcing, "You all know the plan! Go, go, GO! Today is OUR DAY!"
The crowd erupted then; people laughed and exclaimed, they shoved and pulled their Gangmates excitedly, they swapped bullets and slapped magazines into automatic guns. Batty slipped away into the shadows, and his cloud of bats flittered in between the groups. Some were led down hallways, some into rooms, others into the dark hiding places around the foyer, and others still directly to the warehouse without practice. This continued until, it seemed, that Simon's mansion was drained of any exterior criminals.
Simon was still laughing evilly to himself as he piloted his ship back into the mezzanine. Cad emerged from behind the walls and stalked up to Simon, who was flying low enough so that they were on eye level. Cad was a fine young man; he looked most like a pitbull, and that most of his body was made of muscle. Despite his size, he slid up to Simon as smooth and lightly as a cat would.
Simon's ear twitched as he heard another approaching. When he glanced over his shoulder he found his second assistant—Veronica Magus. A pretty setter, with curly red fur and a lab coat as clinical as Simon's own. In the shadows, the most one could see of her was the glare of her rectangular glasses.
"Good, good," Simon purred oily. "Is it finished?"
"Yes, boss," Veronica said as she held up another device. This one was a small remote, with a thin antenna and a red button that glowed menacingly.
Simon nodded and reached out to take it from her. He held it in his hands for a moment, running his fingers across its edges and biting back his temptation to press its tantalizing button right then. He raised his gaze to Cad.
"Once Battyman plays his role, Cad," he said lowly, "You know what to do, yes?"
"Yes, boss," Cad replied with no other elaboration.
"Good," Simon nodded. "Now: Simon says, fetch me Polly!"