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A Terrible Idea 7

The first interview was a scientific accident with a serious grudge against Galactic Man. His name was Bugface, and he was one ugly motherfucker.

You see, he had this face — looked a lot like a bug? Face didn’t look like a cockroach (thank god, they’re gross) but instead looked more like a fly (still gross, but manageably gross).

He came into the office wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, his hands cuffed in front of him and two guards acting as escorts. The guards were silent, as always. If there was one thing you learned guarding metahumans with special powers, it was this: don’t talk to the prisoners. Don’t fuck with the prisoners, don’t show any emotion around them. You just do your job, and you do it as discreetly as possible.

The guards who didn’t learn that lesson? Well, let’s just say they didn’t last long.

Jennifer’s position allowed her to be a bit more loose-lipped. “Glad you could join us, Bugface.” The sentence started out polite, but by the time she got to his name, her voice dripped with condescension. She looked at the handcuffs and smiled. “Please, take a seat.”

Bugface didn’t react. A guard put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Bugface sat in the chair, letting out an ominous bzzz as he did so.

“I’ve come to talk to you about an opportunity.” Jennifer leaned forward, hands clasped together. “Would you like to hear what that opportunity is?”

No reaction.

“It involves Galactic Man.”

Bugface bzzzed again, a little louder and longer than he’d bzzzed previously.

“I read your file. It’s very impressive for a supervillain’s. 30 million dollars worth of property damage, going toe to toe with Galactic Man and almost winning.” She purposefully left out the 38 people he’d killed. “Even if he doesn’t consider you his arch-nemesis, you’re still a formidable B-List villain.”

Bugface bzzzed louder still.

Jennifer pulled one of her drawers open a little bit. Given the angle, no one else in the room could see what was in the drawer.

“To be frank,” Jennifer said, “I think it’s a shame you couldn’t beat Galactic Man by yourself. If you had, it would make my job easier. After all those times you’ve tried… Well, let’s be honest, there’s no way someone like you could defeat the mighty Galactic Man all by yourself”

Bugface jumped out of the chair, lunging for Jennifer. She whipped a plasma rifle out of her desk drawer. It was a real beauty of a thing: science fictional, a steel gun with blue tubes weaving in and out of it, big but not so big as to require two hands.

Jennifer shot Bugface in his bug face before anyone else could react.

Bugface’s bug face exploded, green blood and shit spewing everywhere. Jennifer turned away to hide her smile, as she wiped some of the green blood off her mouth. It would be a bitch to get out of her hair — and she was most certainly going to have to buy a new blouse — but the interview had been worth it.

“Sorry boys,” she said, turning back to see the guards. “Looks like this one didn’t work out. You both saw that was in self defense, right?”

Both of the guards nodded silently; they were smart guards.

“I’ll call in the clean-up crew. You two clean yourselves up.”

The two guards left, and all had gone according to plan.

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