Knowing his part, Xun gave a low, evil chuckle (it sounded like “hurh, hurh, hurh”) and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“This time…Oh this time I’ll triumph. This time there will be no death rays to reflect back at my base, no disaster machines to sabotage. There will be no turning gases back on me. No blackmail. No terrorized populace. No warning at all.” Dr Xamos (blah, blah) noticed the puzzlement on Xun’s face. “Oh I know. I’ll miss all that cool stuff too. But I’m tired of getting beaten by all those various simpletons that call themselved heroes. The Umbra, Major Nation, Ace Speedy (two fisted reporter of justice) and especially The Dark Watchman and Watchboy. I hate them all. And come one, really? Watchboy? How can I keep getting thwarted by a twerp that sounds like he was named after an apprentice clockmaker?”
The Doctor’s (****) voice was rising and becoming less evil and more whiney. That was rarely a good sign in Xun’s experience. He gave a discreet (but evil and thuggish (again, not easy)) cough.
Dr Xamos looked up from the floor with a start and recollected himself. “But no more! No, this time there will be no warning. There will be no devices. There will be no time to thwart me. By the time they could become aware of my plan it will be too late and they will have no power to stop it.” He paused to draw breath. “HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
Thunder crashed like an anvil truck wreck.
In the lab, counters and tables were covered with test tubes and beakers and flasks, all connected by mazes of twisting tubing, in which and through which various fluids bubbled and fizzed and churned. Every surface not covered in glass was filled with electronics of various shapes and sizes, all of which beeped or hissed or made other electronic noises. In one corner a two foot jacobs ladder crackled as it churned bolt after bolt of horizontal lighting between its two poles. The lighting overhead, oddly enough, seemed designed to cast weird shadows in some places and shone brilliant spotlights down in others. All in all it was classic.
Except for one small corner of the lab, which was clean, uncluttered and well -lit. Two tables and a counter held a neatly organized array of discreet workstations boasting the latest in scientific instrumentation. It made Xun nervous. When the boss (no suffix needed for “boss”) worked in the main part of the lab it led to predictable results. When the boss really wanted to get serious, though, he worked in, what Xun referred to as the “dangerous lab”. Xun was looking nervously over Dr. Xamos (wmneg) shoulder as the boss typed furiously. On the twenty seven inch flat panel monitor, a chemical formula danced in high definition graphical representation.
“This!” Dr. Xamos (wmneg) gestured at the screen, “this is the instrument of my domination, the weapon with which I shall conquer.”
“Iss iit a viruss, Doctor?” Xun hissed rubbing his hands sinisterly. He spent a lot of time rubbing his hands and between that and the copious amounts of hand sanitizer a person whose job involves regular interaction with genetically altered animals, deadly poisons, strange diseases, and fighting heroes in the middle of thunderstorms might need, Xun found himself needing increasing amounts of hand lotion.
Dr Xamos (wmneg) grinned slyly. “It is indeed, a virus, my brutish henchman, but not like you have encountered before. This virus will not kill two out of three males, it will not mutate the population into an army of thuggish brutes, it will not cause plant life to animate under my direct control. It won’t even give you a cold.” All of those had been actual things and, Xun thought, good riddance to bad rubbish for them. That had been the worst cold he’d ever had.
“This virus is undetectable. I will cause no visible change to the person infected. Everything in their life will be the same. This virus,” he paused for dramatic effect, “is my biological backdoor! HAHAHAHAHA.”
After the thunder subsided Xun asked, “What iss a bioologicall backdooor, Doctor?” He really was puzzled. He didn’t have to pretend.
Doctor Xamos (wmneg) surged to his feet and began to pace and talk. “The human mind, my underling, is very much like a computer. While mine is like a Cray supercomputer and yours is like a commodore 64, they operate under similar principles. Information is uploaded, processed and downloaded. We are all subject to the limits of our biological programming. Do you begin to see? HAHA,” (thunder rolled) “This virus creates a biological access point in that programming. It’s a backdoor into the operating code. THIS virus,” he gestured dramatically at the screen, “will write a command imperative into the brain of every infected subject. When the trigger is presented, any person infected will naturally obey any command given, without doubt or delay. It will be hardwired in, as natural as breathing.”