NationStates Jolt Archive

Harold Hamilton, the Atomic Brain, scanned the landscape with what passed as vision for him, his true eyes having shrivelled from radiation streaming off his miraculous brain decades ago.
The bomber passed over the Swamp of Sorrows once more, finding no trace of any building other than a few ramshackle huts occupied by squatters and vagabonds seeking to escape society, or possibly just the authorities. He was bored, and his last few passes had done readings, finding depths to the waters until he found one deep enough to hide this Dr. Destructo's lair.
"Here, boys-here. Once I leave, take this back to Volcano Island-have our operatives at that airfield nearby ready for my pickup. I shan't require a large craft-just enough to return home in, eh?"
With those orders, he leaped out the bomber, his form textbook for a parachuter, though he used his jetpack to brake.
His robotic body could easily endure the fall, but he did not wish to bury himself in the swamp and be forced to dig his way out, then trudge to the hidden base.
His robotic body was the match of any hero on the planet, but it was heavy and slow, and these drawbacks could be exploited by any with the wit to do so, which is why he agreed to join this Legion of Doom-that the shortcomings he possessed would be offset by the strengths of another, and that his strengths would overcome an ally's shortcomings.
Activating his jet pack in short bursts, he slowly brought himself into an awkward, but upright, landing and surveyed the scene. The waters of the swamp appeared still and serene, slowly parting as a great black dome arose from the waters....

"Sir, we've readied your personal transport for departure." The uniformed minion (http://i126.photobucket.com/albums/p98/l33t-h4x0r/Guards.jpg) stood in front of the large, ultra-modern desk, an assault rifle secured across his back. He was just one of many employed in this secret base, utterly expendable, yet vital to any operations.

"Excellent..." The responding voice said, the body hidden behind the tall, expensive leather office chair. Behind the chair, a hand stroked the white fur of a white Persian cat. The chair spun around, revealing a man wearing dark red clothing. He was bald, well muscled, and a scar ran up his left cheek, where an eyepatch cut it off. "I shall be leaving immediately."

"Umm, a-about that sir..." The minion began, stammering.

The man raised an eyebrow. "What?" He replied, already annoyed.

"D-don't you think this is a trap? I mean, if I-"

"YOU DARE DOUBT MY ACTIONS??!!" The man roared, forcing the minion to jump back in terror. "YOU SHALL SUFFER FOR THIS TRANSGRESSION!!!"

The minion pleaded and begged for the man to spare him, but it was already too late. He pressed a button on his desk, and the floor where the minion was begging opened up, revealing a tank of water. Needless to say, the minion fell through, instantly devoured by the swarm of piranha fish that lived within.

Happy over the punishment, the Mastermind stood up, stepping over the area where the trap door had been, and proceeded to the door. Of course, he had already considered the possibility of a trap, but decided that the possible benefits outweighed the risks. Nevertheless, he would be prepared.

Keir Shytin (http://i126.photobucket.com/albums/p98/l33t-h4x0r/Mastermind.jpg) smiled as he stepped aboard his personal transport. A few hours later, a large dome rose before him. Finally, world domination was no longer a solo job.

(OOC: By the way, I'm totally serious about RP'ing an Evil Genius. Just putting it out there.)

A door opens up in the dome, and a steel ramp emerges, obviously they are welcome in

The Atomic brain wrapped a field of cohesive radiation about himself for a measure of protection and entered. The lack of a doorman-even a talking gorilla-indicated a lack of trust, but these were villains...

A robot appears before the brain, and motions for him to follow, opening a door that lead into a large council chamber, where it motioned him to take a seat.

The Atomic Brain walked in, surveying his surrounding's with a scientist's eye and spy's assessment. It seemed standard for such affairs-he could probably tear or blast through the walls, but he had the advantage of a half-century combating Earth's Mightiest Heroes, and his robotic body was built to match or surpass them.
He hoped this Dr. Destructo had a plan-he had several he could use to test his allies, providing him with an assessment of their abilities and worthiness of an alliance with the Atomic Brain.
The room the robot lead him to was a vast round chamber with a great video screen over a podium, two curving tables stretching in arcs along the lines of the room. "How long will the others be?" he asked, taking a seat opposite the only entrance to the room.

"Lady, gentlemen, we have arrived. Let us not keep our host waiting."

Four people emerged from the capsule, each wearing his or her own version of a smirk. Other than that, their clothing was dissimilar, save for a logo that appeared in common somewhere on each. The one who had spoken wore a leather surcoat and boots, and a pilot's cap with a gasmask that could attach to it. This was Reardon Endis, also known as The Sphincter. Behind him lumbered a large, imposing figure, as much machine as man. He was dressed in dark green cover-alls. This was LaJohn Diesel, also known as Motorhead. Third in the entourage was a thin but well-muscled man with a green-and-yellow martial arts suit. This was Imbroglio, Allen Feist. Behind him was a man with a huge, well-developed body, and big hands. He was known as Load, and his name was Dino Fistus. Finally, at the back of the pack, stood a young lady, quite shapely, with a form-fitting, two-piece silver jumpsuit. This was Christine Electra, or Electro-Cute.

Looking around him, Reardon could not help but view the place around him with contempt. "You'd think they'd do a better job of mowing the lawns around here," he said.

"Well, you can always mow it for them," Imbroglio said.

"My thoughts precisely," the Sphincter replied.

Pfffffffffffffffftttttttttttt!

A green cloud spread out from Reardon's body. As it did, any plants that it came in contact with instantly wilted.

"There," the Sphincter said, "that's a little better."

The other four laughed.

From his vantage point in the Hall of Doom, the Atomic Brain watched the newcomers-their display of power seemed pointless and detrimental, exposing the base by removing the foliage, but it wasn't his base, so it's exposure meant merely escaping when the Law appeared, leaving his allies holding the bag, so to speak.

He leaned forward, and pressed the microphone to the external sound system. "If you are quite finished announcing your presence to casual observers, you may join us within-please, the service droid can direct you."

It may have been an affront to his host, the sorceror Dr. Destructo, but at least with new members, they could begin and lay the groundwork for an initial plan.

Hopefully, there would be more than a bank job or killing Earth's Greatest Hero-the Atomic Brain had long transcended such petty schemes...

"Well, well, well," Imbroglio said, "it looks like we finally got someone's attention."

The other four laughed.

And the robot came up out of the swamp and pointed in the direction of the Hall of Doom.

While the others held back, the Sphincter made his entrance. The air under him literally caught fire, and he jet-propelled over the swamp and in through the door. After looking around for a moment, he turned back to the others.

"Seems safe enough," he called.

Load was the next to arrive, technically. He just jumped. Imbroglio, who had jumped on his back, slid down. Motorhead flew in on hoverblaces, and Electro-cute just magnetically levitated into place.

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OOC: take the first letter of the name of each character to arrive, in the order that they arrived, and you have the name of the gang.
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IC:

"Ooooo," she said, looking at the nearby wall. "What pretty buttons. I wonder what they do."

"Now, now, my dear," the Sphincter said. "Don't go playing with their toys until they deserve it."

"Getting bored, Holey One."

"I know. Me, too."

Dr. Destructo emerged from his quarters with an air of vigor. He said with glee,"Ah, more have arrived, soon we will be able to enact my grand schemes." He walked over to where the five had arrived and said,"Please join us in the council chambers, and don't touch any buttons." With that, he opened the doors to the council hall and took his place at the center of the arc shaped table.

Electro-cute smiled. It was at once beautiful and chilling.

"Now, now, dear," the Sphincter said, "WE know that you can press the little buttons without touching them, but HE does not. Let us give this man a bit of professional courtesy...for now."

Imbroglio looked at him when he said that, but said nothing.

Together, they moved through the halls and into the council chambers. When they got there, Motorhead sauntered around and Electrocute levitated magnetically through the chamber.

"Well," the Sphincter said.

"No traps," Motorhead said.

"Nice metal chairs," Electrocute said. "I can keep myself warm on these!"

"Good," the Sphincter replied. "I can, too."

They settled in and took the farthest seats from the door, so that they would be facing it.

OOC:Unless you're sitting on the Atomic Brain's lap, he took that seat some time back.

IC: The Atomic Brain surveyed the newcomers dispassionately. This Endis was probably their leader-he'd contacted the Legion initially, after all. They seemed young for this sort of work, but probably relied heavily on their inherent talents to pull them out of situations-all too common in modern times.

The Brain had not survived so long by relying on snap judgments, however accurate they seemed. It was time to let Destructo unveil his sorcerous scheme and pray it wasn't stealing more material for a larger hankerchief from which he could produce the Ultimate Pidgeon and menace the world into submission...

Destructo surveyed the group with glee and disgust. He began,"Welcome all those who oppose law and order, those who revel in anarchy and suffering of the weak. This is the Legion of Doom, the order that will rise up and destroy all who oppose it. We will burn the world and from the ashes build our empire, we shall be Gods among men. However we lack the numbers and the force to achieve this goal now. I have devised a plan to empower the legion." A hologram map of the world appears with a marker pointed to Siberia. "At the end of the second world war, the Soviet Union captured many German scientists to aid their construction of the Atomic Bomb. Though most are now dead, I know that a one Gregory Schnider still lives within this facility, thanks to information from spies. There is more however, the facility also houses three ICBM's. All we need are the warheads of said missles. I believe the plan is clear, any questions?"

"Schnider was a hack." The Atomic Brain snorted, very difficult to do without a nose. "Three ICBMs? Will that be adequate? At the very least, when we hack into the system to ascertain the warheads' whereabouts, we should tweak the inventory-let them think we've more.

"Nuclear extortion is feasible, but wisdom would indicate we should convince the world that we do not have the nukes, and are instead working for some up-and-coming dictator. Let the World Assembly cry at some lout's door while we proceed unobstructed with our own plot, until it is at the point we are prepared for the world to know it must quail."

"How will mere atomic warheads suddenly imbue us with the power to raise an army?" Imbroglio said.

"Well said," the Shincter continued. "Forgive me, but I have learned the hard way that World Domination is a process, not an event. To truly make it work, we must establish systems by which wealth and power are channeled to us unless there is some intervention--and any attempt at intervention is punishable. Mere weapons do not accomplish this task because weapons are a finite resource.

"I say we kidnap the scientist and use whatever pitiful scientific prowess he may possess to establish an Atomic Weapons Manufacturing site. If, as our esteemed member claims, his is not a first-class mind, this will only make him that much easier to control. With a self-renewing resource, we can sell our weapons to terrorist organizations, enriching ourselves and sewing the chaos that spins the world into our open mouths."

"I was planning on selling the warheads in the first place, plenty of amoral countries willing to use them that will buy. Though he may have been a fool and a hack, he still knows about the Hydrogen bomb, he helped it's creation for the Soviets in 1961. Why settle for the average warhead, when we could have something hundreds of times more destructive, and lacks the fallout of nuclear weapons. These can enrich us even more and attract allies, men like us.

"I, on the other hand, directed the American program for nuclear armaments." The Atomic Brain commented. "Always back the winning horse, good Doctor. The pathetic apologists who desire the resurrection of the Soviet Union aside, there was precious little to their way of governance or life worth remembering-rather like the Renaissance in it's insignificance.

"As to the question of 'clean' nukes-that would be folly. We want a massive cloud of radiation, to occupy the existing governments with it's cleanup, as well as to infuse the stuff of which lackies are made with energies adequate to make them useful.

"As our friend has noted, World Domination is a process-three nukes will barely permit an upsetting of the applecart, unless we lie about our arsenal or distribute them indiscriminately.

"We should probably interfere in one of the many brushfires across the globe, backing the 'dark horse', as it were. The right weapon in the wrong hands could occupy the World Assembly adequately to permit our true stratagem to proceed unimpeded.

"But this shopping spree will be an adequate testing of our capacity for cooperation, and will supply us with pocket change and turmoil enough to establish ourselves.

"Let's line up a buyer-better yet, an auction-the Great Powers will permit that, knowing they can outbid the lesser lights, and I can certainly supply breeder bombs to all bidders, ensuring a steady supply of mutant labor-hopefully in nations without labor unions." The Atomic Brain tapped idly on the table. "The three prize nukes can be used to attract attention, and I can tweak the bombs to properly irradiate the populace."

The laughter from his electronic voicebox was an unholy aberration, but it rung through the vast Hall of Doom...

Reardon waited for the laughter to die down.

"I agree on one condition: instead of taking them all, we leave one behind, and set it off to cover our tracks as soon as we're far enough away. It is important that we send the message that we're not to be toyed with."

"I like the way you think Atomic Brain. I will not argue with you. However we cannot just give them the weapons and hope they use them, we must also fuel the fires of anger to blind them. Assassinations of certain individuals and fabricated attacks by other nations will do just this. Feeding lies into their ears will strengthen their blind rages, making them not so hesitant to use our 'gifts'. A new age will emerge, and we shall be the gods who rule man."

"Then we should perform a terrorist act or two in key areas to exacerbate tensions." The Atomic Brain replied. "Does anyone know who's attacking Xiscapia this week? We could kidnap their Empress...no, this time of year there's always a line.

"A bit of interference in this or that brush war can aid our teamwork, as well as prime an area as both market and diversion. All we need do is pick our target-those nukes aren't going anywhere."

"You've thought about this far too much."

"Yes-at times it seems I must attend to every niggling detail of the Apocalypse myself."

"Very well then, shall we be on our way to collect our weapons?"

The Atomic Brain rose, and performed a diagnostic on his systems. When it finished, he replied. "I'm optimal for now-let us proceed."