Miles and miles away from the action, cooped up comfortably in his laboratory was Simon Barsinister, himself. He was watching his crooks tackle Underdog all at once upon a massive computer screen, with a few smaller screens to capture every angle. He was laughing maniacally and shouting at his feed as if it were a broadcast of his favorite sport.

"Give him a shock for destroying my lair!" he exclaimed as the Electric Eel did so. Simon could see the flash of his bones in the feed, and counted several broken.

"A punch for all the times he sent me to jail!" he yelled as Riff Raff and one of his boys, a porcupine, ripped into him. The porcupine pulled a quill out of his back and stabbed it into Underdog's palm. Simon hoped it went all the way through.

"A KICK FOR ALL THOSE AWFUL RHYMES!" he screamed as Overcat did just that.

Simon kept on laughing, drinking in all the awful, glorious sights of Underdog taking blow after wretched blow and obtaining injury after gorey injury. He kicked his feet up on his keyboard and sighed as he leaned back. Ah, how he wished he had some popcorn right about now.

Unfortunately that was when his own walkie-talkie went off. Veronica's voice droned on the other side, somehow more deadpan than usual beneath the static.

"...Come in, boss."

Simon was still chuckling to himself as he moved to answer. "Copy~" he purred, pleased as anything to have finally captured his canary.

"Eyes on the Fools."

Simon's lips curled into a smile. "Say again?"

"Eyes. On. The. Fools. Over."

Simon laughed, clutching his walkie to his chest and kicking his little feet. "Ohh, it's simply music to me, I had to hear it again. Yes, thank you, Veronica. Relay Charlie-Alfa-Delta. Simon says: return."

Veronica was silent for a moment as the static crackled on her end. Simon didn't notice, his gaze transfixed on Underdog as he coughed up blood.

Finally, she answered, "Wilco. Roger, Simon."

Her connection clicked off. Simon took only a few more seconds to watch the massacre, then rolled back from his computer screen. He stood up from his chair only to fiddle with and mount his flying saucer. As he did, he held his walkie to his mouth.

"Kilo-November-Golf to Charlie-Alfa-Delta."

"Roger, Simon!" returned Cad, quickly and excitedly.

"Simon says," he ordered with a snarl in his voice, "Launch phase one."

On his end of the line, Cad was just finishing up his quick repair. Underdog had busted a hole into the boarded up window, as was planned, and it was Cad's job to return it to its natural state. Onlookers would be suspicious of a broken window, but a boarded-up one? That was fair game in the neighborhood where the warehouse sat.

None of the criminals—many of whom made their homes in this part of town—noticed Cad in the hustle and bustle. Cad threw his hammer over his shoulder and, even despite the chaos, made his way cautiously around the perimeter of the building. Looking over the scene, it had not been nearly as chaotic as it had been prior.

Wounded as he was, Underdog had meant it when he said he'd stop at nothing to rescue Polly. A good chunk of villains had broken off into the outskirts of the fight, complaining noisily about how Underdog was still standing and about how they were out of ammo. Some were simply licking their wounds. Cad observed them carefully, double checking their positions by the beams in the ceiling...

Cad chuckled and raised his walkie.

"You got it, boss."

Underdog continued to hold his ground. Even though he felt like he was dying, even though he felt as if there was nothing left of his body, even if he felt like a hellbeast set ablaze, he held his ground—anything to get back to Polly.

He thought he was winning. He thought the punches were coming on less strong (or maybe he was just going numb), and he thought that the crowd was thinning out (or maybe his eyes were too swollen to see out of.) Despite all that, he kept on fighting.

Overcat came up on him from behind, latching one paw over Underdog's muzzle and the other on his stomach. The warlord lifted him from the ground, taking a stance and shifting his shoulders as if he was about to body-slam Underdog. The hero didn't let that happen, he kicked and flailed his arms wildly until Overcat began to lose his grip. When he went to readjust the hand that held Underdog's muzzle, Underdog bit him. The cat screeched. Underdog didn't stop until he heard the crunch of a tendon and Overcat threw him to the ground.

Still no rest—Battyman slid up to him, nothing more than a ghostly shadow. Underdog swallowed his tongue back into his mouth and punched up at him, getting back to his feet as his arm pulled him upward.

"YOU FOOL!" Underdog shouted at him. "You know not what you do! When you ally with evil-doers, they will always betray you!"

He didn't think about what he said, the words ripping themselves out of him without any input from his brain. Regardless, Underdog felt the fleshy underside of Batty's jaw meet his knuckles, and he heard the vampire's ancient bones crunch. Batty stumbled back while holding his chin, a string of inky black trailing out of his mouth.

Underdog stole a quick glance around. He felt his heart soar as he spotted Polly, just as tied together as she had been but—thank GOD—completely abandoned by the villains. Underdog didn't realize until after he spotted Polly that he had the breathing room to spot Polly.

Not over still, Dr. Hiss leapt onto his chest. They were a Canadian goose that Underdog never claimed to be familiar with. They had a long neck for an anthropoid, and feathery arms, and wore a freshly-pressed doctor's suit. It didn't look so clinical after the battle. They hissed and spat and fought with all the energy of this being their first round. They honked at Underdog and spoke quickly.

"Hulloa, Underdog!" they honked, "Talking about betrayal, eh?!"

Underdog landed a punch onto their chest, but Hiss pushed his arms back in retaliation, cutting the hero with their spikes as they did so. Underdog gasped at its burning pain.

"That's rich coming from you!" Hiss continued, annoyingly. "You can't even save that Polly!"

Hiss kicked Underdog to the ground with a grunt, but continued to grapple atop him. Underdog kept growling. He had growled so much the last... how long had it been?... he thought his voice might be shot. Underdog looked up at Hiss and licked a bead of blood from the corner of his mouth. Gamefowl hunter he was not—but goose sounded just as good as anything right about now.

"Once we finish with you!" Hiss honked, lifting Underdog up only to knock him against the ground again. "I'll fly her up in the air and drop her in the ssss-sea!"

The goose honked out a laugh, but it was enough of a distraction, and enough of a fan to Underdog's fire, that the hero broke out of their grasp. Immediately Underdog went for their throat. He wrapped his hands around that neck of theirs and squeezed with all his might. They were the last one—and Polly did like gamefowl.

Suddenly, a glowing red light came from the warehouse's ceiling. Startled, Underdog released his hold just a little. Just enough for Hiss to pull his hands away and choke out, "Hey—HEY, are you doing that?"

Underdog didn't answer. He didn't care what it was, the last villain was down and Polly was waiting. He kicked Hiss away and stumbled to his feet, rushing to her in a starry blur. He skidded on his heel to face the crowd of villains. They were all just as beaten up as he was, just as exhausted, and just as angry. Underdog ignored the shooting pain up one of his legs, ignored the shooting pain down the middle of his back, ignored the fact that he could hear his heartbeat in his brain—NONE of those criminals were going to hurt Polly.

A woosh noise echoed through the building at just the same moment that Dr. Hiss exclaimed:

"WHAT THE [HONK] IS GOING ON?"

Underdog panted as the crowd of criminals broke out into a panic. This time, none of them were focused on him. He allowed himself to loosen his fighting stance. Underdog felt his breathing even out (if you didn't count the wheeze), and looked around. The battlefield had been surrounded by hundreds of glowing, red bars.

Oh—

Christ.

Overcat's rough voice cut through the panic. He took a step toward Underdog and punched a fist into his opposite hand. Underdog squared up, but Overcat only shouted at him. "Hey, what's the big idea, huh?!"

Underdog didn't have it in him to speak. His mouth was too dry and too rusty, his throat too torn up from growling, and his head pulsing too hard from the fight.

Behind him came Polly's calm voice. "It looks like some kind of... laser... forcefield," she sounded just as confused as the rest of them looked. Hopping between her feet and her butt, she managed to peer around her protector to cock a knowing eyebrow at the villains. "I take it this part of the plan wasn't yours?"

Finally wiping the tears from their eyes and the snot from their beak, Hiss got to their talons and padded toward the forcefield. "Lasers?" they muttered with disbelief. "I bet it's just some kind of projection, you dumb dog—" Hiss raised a hand to bat at the lasers in an attempt to prove they were merely fictional.

Instead, they let out a gnarled, noisome scream as the lasers crackled and snapped about their flesh. Hiss stood there for a few moments more as the shock, both physical and mental, overwhelmed them. Perhaps goose really was on the menu. No—finally, the pain overwhelmed them, and Hiss fell backwards onto the concrete. They were silent and still, and the scent of burnt feathers coated the workshop.

Riff Raff stepped up next to the goose. He gave them a little kick to the shoulder. Hiss responded with a pathetic honk. Riff huffed, then shrugged his blazer off his shoulders.

He growled as he spoke. "Did that Cad Lackey idiot trap us in here by mistake or somethin'?"

The other criminals grumbled to themselves, tossing out their theories and complaints, their ideas to get out and their regrets about teaming up with Simon. Underdog ignored them. For now, they seemed content to lick their wounds and revel in their misery. Currently, this was the closest thing Underdog could call safe.

The hero gulped back rust and exclaimed to them all with a shaking voice, "Whatever has happened, we are all trapped here." Despite his flared nerves and his pains, Underdog rolled up a sleeve with quivering fingers and cut a glance across the crowd through the tops of his eyes. "I'll warn you once: stay AWAY from Polly. Don't you dare come near."

The criminals were silent. Exhausted or startled, Underdog couldn't tell—nor did he care to. The intent of his message was obvious, and he was certain that all of the villains could figure it out when they looked between their wounds and the hero, who, despite the vicious attack, was still standing. Underdog was not trapped with the criminals who had been killing him moments ago—they were trapped in here with HIM.

Underdog got to his knees and began to untie Polly. She seemed to be wrapped in one large strand of rope, and bound with a knot that resembled one tied by someone that didn't know how to. Polly let out a heavy breath as her tight constraints were released, moving immediately to rub a place on her collarbone that the ropes had been scraping.

Underdog reached out for her bruise, hoping he could make it better. Polly spotted him and stopped, instead reaching her porcelain hands up for Underdog's battered face.

"Look at you," she said pitifully. She brushed her gentle fingers over Underdog's cheeks, which were hotter now than they had been on the battlefield. Underdog reached his shaking, blistered, cut-up hands to her perfectly manicured ones.

For a moment, he wanted to believe that it was more blood emerging from his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. Whatever it was, Polly wiped it away gently with the ball of her hand.

The cage was almost silent. It stayed that way for what had to have been several minutes. Then came another whooshing sound. Underdog pulled away from Polly's grasp, still ready—despite everything—to protect her. Looking around the cage, he saw that nothing had changed.

However, a flash of red momentarily fogged his vision.

It seemed the same had occurred for everyone else. Beside him Polly let out a little squeak, and all around the cage came little grunts and shouts of surprise and pain. Only a beat of silence passed before an intercom squealed to life somewhere above everyone.

Underdog cried out and reached for his ears.

The intercom crackled until a voice finally managed to cut through.

"Hello, my people..." the announcement began. The speaker had a smooth, oily voice, with the rasp of age and a hint of insanity lying beneath it all.

"That voice," Underdog muttered as he uncurled himself. He sniffled and turned back to face Polly, who again rushed to hold his head up. "Of course it's him, I should have known."

Simon's voice continued to ring out within the warehouse. In fact, it rang out throughout the entire city. His voice was playing through every intercom, speaker and radio within the Biggers city limits. People were startled as their car radios suddenly burst out with the hijack, some changed the channels on their televisions as the audio mismatched the visuals, and others rapidly tapped the buttons on their phones as the announcement seemingly played from nothing.

Simon flew on his saucer high in the air, speaking into a microphone with a smile so large it threatened to overwhelm his face.

The sky around him was no longer a bright blue with the summertime. It was red—the color Simon had watched Underdog expel so much of today. Below, the cityscape took on a maroon hue as the sunlight was filtered through the forcefield. Every clock face and window shone scarlet like the sky. Overhead, the fluffy clouds became pink. Seaward, the winedark ocean struck the dome in desperation to return to its rose-gold beach.

He spoke: "Today I, Simon Barsinister, have defeated all threats... both good and evil."

Within the laser cage, Underdog and Polly clenched tighter onto eachother. Around them the villains protested their great displeasure as if Simon could hear them—as if Simon cared to.

Simon continued to broadcast through every outlet he could access. Through the radios of the cars stuck on the highway:

"Underdog is gone. All of the villains you fear... are gone."

Through the phone speakers of the sky-scraping office buildings:

"I have cut us off from all outside help. No heroes are coming to save you. No evil is coming to threaten you."

Through schoolhouse intercoms:

"Since I was a boy, I wished to rule the world. To have absolute power. But now... I see a better way."

Simon flew his saucer to the yard of the mayor's office. A very concerned, frazzled crowd had gathered there in hopes that their mayor had any power to stop him. The mayor himself seemed to mingle within the yard, shrugging his shoulders and looking about uselessly. Simon smirked down at them, passing them all a greeting wave.

"Forget the world! I'll settle for a city... for now."

He moved his microphone away from his face and tapped a few buttons on his saucer. With a million little clicks and beeps, his saucer covered itself in a cloud of steam. For the few moments it was covered, it made noises like drilling, sliding metal, and crunching aluminum. When the steam finally dispersed, the crowd below looked up at Simon with a fearful astonishment. The saucer had bent itself into a replica throne.

Simon crossed his legs as his new seat was revealed. He tilted his head to rest on his fist, his opposite hand holding onto the mic. He laughed quietly, though not quietly enough that the speakers within the city couldn't broadcast it. He drank in the looks of the people below: fear... worry... anger... best of all, Simon found, was their hopelessness.

Finally, he cleared his throat and sat up straight. He pulled his microphone close as he rose one arm to the sky. It was his final announcement, his first proclamation as the new ruler...

"SIMON SAYS," he announced, "BOW BEFORE YOUR KING!"