Sunday, December 04, 2005

As I mulled over possible plans for the destruction of humanity (I always have a few good ideas cooking in the back of my mind), a very loud, very unpleasant noise intruded on my meditation. It was just horrible. And it was very loud. With each passing second that I was exposed to it, I felt my rage growing. I briefly considered ripping the entire building apart with my magnetic powers, but I managed to keep myself in check. Instead, I stormed out of my chamber and set off to find the source of that cacophany. It didn't take me long.

Stopping outside of the Blob's room, I could tell from the way the door was shaking on it's hinges that this was the origin point of the sound. I gestured with my hand and the door went flying back into the room. I have everything around me constructed out of metal for just such a purpose. I can influence control over any type of matter since magnetic force lines flow through everything, but metal is much easier.

Inside the room sat the Blob, Toad and Fatale. They were lying around a stero system, tapping their feet and eating Cheese Puffs. I stared in stunned silence at them for a moment, not able to comprehend what I was looking at. Then I realized that they were listening to music.

I raised my hand and the stero was reduced to a small, non-functional, metal cube. The mutants all turned to me with surprised, hurt looks on their pathetic faces.

"What was that . . music?" I demanded.

Their expressions changed from hurt to guilty. None of them spoke up for several minutes until Toad, always the butt-kisser, spoke up. "That's the Smilin' Baby Hitles, Guv'ner," he said. He thinks he's English.

"The what?!" I bellowed. "You mean Pyro's group?!" They all slowly nodded. "That . . that trash is not to be played any more by anyone! Do you understand me?"

Again, they all dumbly nodded. As I stared at them in disgust, I briefly considered killing all of them right then and there. I had a hard time talking myself out of it. They do have their uses, I suppose. And Fatale could be a tough fight.

The more direct solution, I realized, was to deal with the heart of the problem. Pyro.
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