King Sinister floated around a group of workers. He cared not for who his workers were, so long as they were working. Men, women, bird, mammal, child or elder—if you had the hands to lay brick, Simon would make you.
Schools were put to rest—the children were Simon's squires, now.
Banks were put to rest—all the money was Simon's, now.
Any service that did not directly serve His Majesty had been killed on the spot. You may lay bricks, or you may serve his dinner, but no matter what, with a ball and chain around your ankle, you had to work for your King.
"Yes, yes! Work for your King!" he was shouting at a group of bricklayers. Despite the apprehension painted plainly on their faces, none of them dare speak, nor disobey their orders. "If I am a King, I must have a castle! Build! Bricks, mortar, faster!"
With no way for help to enter the city, no way for any citizen to exit it, and no way to locate where Underdog had been put, any hope that the even brightest of people held onto had begun to fade. Day by day it continued to diminish until, it seemed, that there was absolutely no soul who could challenge the villain's reign.
The key word there being "seemed."
"LONG LIVE THE KING!"
Simon heard a thump above his head as if something had struck him. He had little time to think about it, as whatever it was, it had packed enough of a punch to topple his throne halfway over. Simon fell headfirst from his throne.
He landed on the packed earth below with a groan. He was lucky he hadn't been flying much higher than seven feet, Simon thought as he sat up on his knees and felt his aging anatomy over. After a cursory check, none of his bones seemed broken—sore, yes, but not broken. With that concluded, Simon could focus on the main issue at hand.
"How in the world did you escape you mangy—!" he began to shout to the person who had taken him down. He had still expected Underdog—of course he had expected Underdog.
Instead, standing behind him was a person Simon had never seen before. He tried rapidly to explain this anomaly to himself—had he misread a census? No, there were only a few black cats within Biggers, and none had the striking yellow eyes of this one, nor the stupid-looking swept-back haircut.
A bolt of fear went up Simon's spine. Had someone become super under his reign? He knew it possible, after all: Eel had survived his death sentence, and got magic powers to boot. But... no.
This cat, despite their dumb hairstyle, was far too polished for the lives Simon's workers lived. Not to mention, they wore an elaborate costume: a blindingly bright yellow jumpsuit; shiny black gloves, boots and underwear; and a red cape that flowed behind them. Much like Underdog, this hero had an emblem on their chest—a red cat's head.
"What's the matter, Your Majesty?" the cat asked, putting their hands on their hips and sneering down at Simon.
Their voice was young and cocky, but it oozed a certain charisma that Underdog seldom held. They leaned down closer to Simon so that he could witness the playful twitch of their black whiskers and the certain way their lip curled over their canines.
Simon glanced around. His workers had formed a ragged circle around the scene, holding their breath with anticipation. Some of them covered their mouths, others crossed themselves, and others still folded their hands as if they were praying. Simon pinned his ears and turned his hardened gaze back to the cat. They were silhouetted by what little castle Simon had. At least, it was little to him—to an average person, it was a great building full of rooms and parapets, with little regard to its floorplan save for the fact it must be bigger.
The new hero's smile widened.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Simon looked up at the hero. No, nothing regarding his plans. This cat was a newcomer—a renegade.
Before the King could linger on his theory for too long, the black cat let out a chitter and leapt at him as only a feline could. Simon screamed and tried to block the attack with his hands, but it was fruitless. The black cat bowled him over several times in the dirt, making him dizzier and dizzier and rolling him further and further away from the cheering crowd of workers that had gathered around them.
Eventually the black cat stopped rolling. Simon had no control over the matter; he landed on his back with an oomph as the world spun in a blur around him. His spinning world was soon replaced with blackness, and he felt a mixture of spandex and fur bap his face repeatedly. Simon pinned his ears and swiped at the hero's hands, but he could seldom see anything.
The black cat took that as another invitation, gripping the King by his shoulders and bowling him over again. This time, Simon collapsed onto his side with the cat behind him. He shouted as the black cat unsheathed their claws into Simon's shoulders—they were so sharp that they pierced straight through Simon's clothes and into his trapezii, perhaps even his scapulas.
The black cat did not stop there. Instead, he began to bunny-kick Simon.
Simon shouted. Each kick was more powerful than the last, and each was aimed even more directly at his vertebrae, his hips, his coccyx! Even worse, the hero's hind-paws stabbed him with claws just as sharp as their front ones.
Simon screamed again. This time, the hero retreated. Simon let out a sigh and scrambled to sit up, but—OW! Behind him, Simon heard the black cat chuckle. They pranced around Simon on light feet until they crouched at his front.
Simon sucked in a sharp breath as one of those knifelike claws poked itself into the fleshy underside of his jaw. The black cat lifted the King's chin to meet their gaze. Their yellow eyes glowed and their pupils were slits no larger than a needle.
"I gotta say, this is a bit of a let-down!" the black cat purred playfully despite their hardened expression. "Where I come from, they make villains out of tougher stuff than you!"
Simon gulped thickly, thoroughly shaken up by the experience. "Who are you...?" he asked, astonished for a moment. Then his eyes widened and he ground his teeth as his rage built inside him. He snarled out, "How did you get into my city?"
"I'm the greatest superhero this city has ever known," the hero purred. They retracted their claw from Simon's jaw for a moment, only to cover it with their paw. They squeezed Simon's cheeks with their middle finger and thumb, leaning down even closer. Simon could smell milk and honey on their breath as they spoke.
"You thought Underdog was the man around here?" they taunted. At the mere mention of his name, Simon's rage nearly bubbled over. Behind him, his tail lashed. His own claws unsheathed themselves, so hot and angry that they tore through his thick rubber gloves and curled into the soil. The hero continued, merely scoffing at Simon's reaction. "I mean, he's cool and all—super nice guy, don't get me wrong—but let's be clear..."
The hero stood up, lifting Simon by his jaw as they did. As soon as Simon's toes touched the ground, the hero dropped their grip and let him stumble. However, Simon did not flail for long, as the hero immediately kicked out the King's legs. Simon exclaimed as he was thrown to the ground. Quickly he lifted himself, spitting out grit, and turned back to the hero just as they finished a twirly little flourish.
"I'm The Bombay," the hero introduced, their easy voice roughening as if their mere name was a threat. "...and wherever I go, villains run screaming in terror!"
The King tried to scramble to his feet as Bombay introduced themself. Bombay noticed, however, and pounced on him. They landed a heavy paw in the middle of Simon's shoulder blades, both knocking the air from his lungs and his body to the ground. When he was down, Bombay rested their foot atop him, sinking in their claws for good measure.
Even more weight fell upon Simon as Bombay leaned over, resting crossed arms on their bent knee as they spoke. They had a certain trill to their voice as they reminisced. "I came to this city a few days ago to pay the enchanting Polly Purebred a visit. She and I met a while back—no big deal."
Bombay retracted their claws. Simon could wriggle just enough to send a hand fishing within his lab coat.
Bombay continued, "I was here when you used that fancy laser-orb thing of yours to trap the people of this city in. I hope you called it Barsinisterville!" they let out a chuckle. "Mm. Anyway, I've been watching you. And now... I'm here to take you down."
Finally, Bombay lifted their foot. Simon rose up to face them over his shoulder, panting. Their fur was so dark that it seemed their face was nothing more than two yellow circles.
Simon's ear twitched as he heard the air fill with a faint humming noise. He spoke quickly in an attempt to cover it. "The Bombay, hm?" he stated, "That rings a bell. I think I have heard of you."
He shifted his glance from Bombay's gaze to just behind Bombay's head—only for a moment, quick enough so that the hero wouldn't notice.
"Um," he choked over his words and the dirt in his mouth. After a moment of droning, he managed to stumble something out with an awkward smile across his face. "Why don't you describe your heroic exploits for a bit longer?"
Bombay's eyes narrowed and their pitch-black muzzle parted into a small smirk full of white, needle-like teeth. They looked as if they had been expecting that reaction. "Weeellll," they trilled, closing their eyes and stepping completely away from Simon. "I never turn down an opportunity to strike fear into a villain's heart."
Bombay vainly wiped their claws on the front of their uniform, all the while doing just what the King had asked. "I visited your city earlier this year when I teamed up with Underdog to defeat my arch-nemesis, Dr. Hiss."
With Bombay appearing to be thoroughly distracted, Simon scooted further away on his knees. He pulled out what he had been searching for in his coat, a small remote control with several miniscule, multicolored buttons. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Bombay still wasn't watching...
"When I say teamed up, though, obviously I did most of the work. Underdog tagged along, he was sort of like a cheerleader for me."
Simon hunched over, trying to avoid the hero's unwatchful gaze even further. He pushed a rapid sequence of buttons on the remote before shoving it back into his coat. Then, he turned back to Bombay—from over their head, the King's throne came floating. It hummed directly above the hero's head, but in their own gloating, Bombay didn't hear it.
"'Go, Bombay, go! I couldn't have done that awesome move in all my wildest doggy dreams!' was what he said..."
Simon's throne drifted low to the ground, just low enough for Simon to sink his claws into its cushion and pull himself up onto its seat. He breathed heavily and shifted uncomfortably—Bombay wouldn't last long, that Simon knew, but even he had to admit that those claws stung. The throne lifted itself back into the air, out of the reach of any non-super person. Simon typed a quick string of commands on the buttons that lined his arm rests. Soon, the throne shook as something grew from its back. The King heard the puff of steam and smiled to himself.
"Clearly I triumphed!" Bombay concluded with a tilt of their head. "So—"
"Hey, kitty," Simon interrupted.
Bombay quickly turned to the place in the ground where they had last put Simon. Unfortunately, the only thing there was a shadow. Bombay took a small step as they trailed their vision upward, their form only stiffening in shock as their eyes landed upon Simon—uncaptured, and happily atop his throne. Simon's gaze scanned over their wide eyes and their bristling tail, chuckling lightly to himself.
"You like to play with lasers?" Simon teased. Sure enough, leaning menacingly over him and casting his throne in shadow, was a huge device. It sort of resembled a telescope, but it had a pointed tip that opened up like a flower as Simon punched a few more buttons.
Bombay didn't stay shocked for long. They frowned and furrowed their brows, taking a hop off the ground to float up to Simon's level. They pointed an accusatory finger at Simon, and muttered without any trace of frivolity, "That's a—"
Simon didn't wait for the final part of their statement, hitting a final button on his arm rest. Immediately, the device above him spat out a red streak with a nasty-sounding ZZZAAAP. It struck Bombay dead in the chest. Bombay grunted, but was shot across the scarlet sky without resistance, screaming out:
"STEREOOTYYYYPPPEEE—"