Disaster was pacing and pulling his hair. “Dave should have been dead hours ago meaning this city should be painted red! How can one fail miserably at dying properly, too?” Disaster slammed his hands down on the table. “M-Maybe someone is watching over Lisa Lesura like you expected, master,” a lackey hesitated. Disaster considered this for a moment, “Perhaps you’re right…” The lackey sighed in relief when he didn’t get shot. Then jumped. Disaster shot the guy next to him. “Isn’t it lucky that I cloned you before you got that ridiculous face tattoo?” Disaster stroked the cheek of the now-dead clone. “Y-Yeah. Super lucky, master,” the lackey laughed nervously. “I was running low on you dip shits… At least I kept you alive. You’re pretty nice to look at… despite that ridiculous face tattoo,” Disaster held his lackey’s face, turning it over before shoving him away. “Ugh! Who do I have to kill to turn the two people who would make my master plan complete into a cold-blooded killer and someone just as evil and crazy as me?” Disaster threw his hands in the air before collapsing back into a chair putting his feet on the table and holding out his hand. A scantily clad clone of the lackey handed him a whiskey sour. The original lackey found it a little disturbing to see himself die repeatedly and be fondled and caressed. “This bastard is crazy,” he felt sick, “how did I end up here?” “Are you wondering how you ended up here with me again?” Disaster pulled the scantily clad clone in his lap, “It’s pretty easy to blackmail a person who doesn’t want to die. I’ve kept you hanging on so long that I bet you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else… doing anything else. Does it sicken you, the things I do to copies of your body?” “N-no, Master,” he lied. Disaster pulled the clone in for a kiss, “And now?” “No— master,” he tried not to shudder. He had seen himself die enough times today. “Good. You’re free to go,” Disaster waved him away now invested in what he was doing to the man’s clone. The lackey scurried off, wondering if he was going crazy, too. — “Thank you for taking me to my appointment, boss. I know this isn’t exactly your thing,” Veronica smiled as Chaos pulled back into the Chaos Corps parking garage. “Well, it is kind of my fault I sent Victor out on a mission, much to my chagrin, and Lector is on vacation to visit his little sister,” Chaos replied awkwardly putting the car in park. “It’s okay, boss. You have hundreds of people in the organization to keep track of,” Veronica pat him on the shoulder after he helped her out of the car. “Veronica,” Chaos began. “Yes, boss?” Veronica removed her hand. “No! That’s—“ Chaos stammered then furrowed his brow. Veronica was concerned, “Is— everything okay?” Chaos reached into the backseat and passed Veronica a package. “Boss, what is this?” “Open it.” Veronica pulled a blue hand-knit baby blanket from the package. “Boss, did you— make this?” Veronica was confused. “No! Villains don’t knit, Veronica,” Chaos shuffled awkwardly. “Then—“ “My— it was mine,” Chaos cleared his throat then mumbled, “my— memaw made it. If you don’t like it—“ “Oh, boss, I love it! But don’t you want to give it to your—“ Veronica began. Chaos laughed, “Veronica, there are no children in my future.” “Boss,” Veronica began. “Veronica,” Chaos warned. “Boss, are there no children in your future because you don’t want them or because you don’t want to let yourself entertain the idea,” Veronica asked, “Boss, I know this is a touchy subject for you and you’re going to be pissed, but it’s not out of the scope of possibility for the ‘bad guys’ to have families. Do you think the mob just clones their members?” “Well, no…” Chaos muttered. “Boss, we all have messed-up backgrounds. Victor, Lector, myself, you, and Charles. We didn’t just come out of the womb messed up, but circumstances led us here. Led you here,” Veronica began. “Veronica, I’m choosing this because being good brought me nothing but misery. Trying to protect mom, protecting people from bullies, trying to be a good son to people who weren’t even my parents, and what did it get me?” Chaos argued, “Both of my parents are dead, I got my ass kicked and suspended on top of that, my caseworker almost lost her job, the list goes on and on.” “Boss, none of that—“ “Was my fault. I know,” Chaos rolled his eyes, “Everyone tried telling me that, but it’s difficult to believe when you’re consistently being shit on, Veronica. When I stopped trying hard to do things for the ‘right reasons’ and doing shit as I saw fit I got control and built an empire.” “That provides medical, dental, vision, and childcare to prostitutes deals drugs that have literally no effect on minors, sending secret donations to after-school programs for under-serviced kids… don’t give me that look, boss. I’ve done the books since we started this operation,” Veronica crossed her arms, “the list goes on and on.” “Yeah, but are those truly good things in the eyes of the law— after-school program donations aside,” Chaos mirrored Veronica. “No! But—“ Veronica sighed, “I don’t know if it’s the hormones or what, but—“ “Wait! Don’t cry, Veronica!” Chaos awkwardly extended his arms to console Veronica. “I’m just— I’ve been raised in this shit pit— and I’ve never been so sad for anyone, because, boss, you’re not like us. None of us would have done any of this shit… not even those asshole superheroes who sit on their asses eating bonbons,” Veronica hiccuped. “Veronica,” Chaos handed her a tissue, “I understand your concerns. I do. Don’t think I forgot who was there for me those first years when I was a wreck. I wouldn’t have made it here without you, so you should know better than anyone why I chose to be here.” “I know, boss. I’m sorry,” Veronica dabbed her eyes. “It’s okay. Let’s get you inside before Lector lectures me about making you cry outside in the cold,” Chaos held out his hand. Veronica laughed through her tears and took his hand to go into the hideout. — Lisa was sitting in a chair in the secret room with the endangered flowers. She was turning a locket over and over in her hands. It had a picture of her grandparents, parents, and herself as a baby. One of the few pictures of the family all together. “What do I do?” She sighed, “I didn’t think Disaster would be foolish enough to try and make a move like that. It’s probably my fault he’s making more trouble for Spencer. Not to mention how Spencer has to sneak in and out of here because the Jet is a loudmouth douche.” Lisa laid her head down on the table still considering the locket, “Then, there’s poor Ben who wouldn’t hurt a fly. He had to kill someone for me. Disaster is trying so hard to bring about another apocalyptic age of evil, and for what? The Jet couldn’t even mildly stop this leviathan if Disaster gets his way.” Lisa frowned, “Speaking of which, it’s kind of strange how he’s constantly riding Spencer’s ass, but Disaster gets minimal meddling even though he is far worse. That’s probably not important. What is important is that the Disasters are too dangerous. They literally don’t care if it kills them, but they will have chaos and despair.” Lisa leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair, “I don’t think grandma keeping his father’s ashes in Bosco would have actually kept him away. I think he was afraid of grandma herself? No… that’s not it either… what is it?” She sighed, “In any case, it is our first anniversary, so I need to go surprise Spencer with grandma’s cookies. They are still phenomenal without pot.” Lisa went to get dressed and head to Chaos Corps. — “All right, Disaster. I brought them. Pay up. You still owe me for last month,” the Jet tossed bodies at Disaster’s feet. “Oh, Jet, you sadistic son of a bitch. I told you to grab him, not him and his sister,” Disaster chortled gleefully, “this is so much better.” Lector wriggled around, shouting under his gag. “Ugh— talkative isn’t he,” Disaster ripped the gag off, “I hope you’re ready to talk about Spencer and Chaos Corps darkest secrets.” “I won’t tell you shit, Disaster. It’s one thing to take me, but leave my sister out of it!” Lector shouted, he was trying to be as consoling as possible in a gag because his sister was hysterical. “Hmm… no. I think she will be a bonus to get you to talk, or maybe I’ll kill her just cause,” Disaster pulled a trigger. Lector’s sister screamed and one of Disaster’s lackeys hit the floor. The Jet rolled his eyes, unflinching. “I don’t understand how you still have people with the way you shoot them all,” the Jet was impatient, “about my payment—“ “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get it to you,” Disaster rolled his eyes as he kicked Lector in the stomach, “I give you at least a billion dollars a month. Where the hell do you spend it all? Surely not on Spencer’s squeaky clean prostitutes?” The Jet’s facial expression changed as something dawned on him, “Did you just say, Spencer?” “Yes! I finally found out Chaos’s real name. I even tried to program his own father to kill him, but the idiot got himself killed before he could do the job and it wasn’t by who I wanted him to if he failed,” Disaster kicked Lector again, “Why? I thought you didn’t give a shit about what happens to Spencer?” “I don’t,” the Jet returned to a deadpan expression, “Just— put the money in the usual account. I did what you asked.” Disaster punched some things in on his phone and the Jet’s phone pinged. “Thank you,” the Jet huffed as he sped out the door. “So spoiled,” Disaster shook his head, “Now, are you going to talk sniper? Or would you rather she talk?” “I said leave her out of it!” Lector shouted, “She hasn’t done anything to anyone!” “Oh dear, Spencer really is more of a vigilante, because a true villain gives no fucks,” Disaster stomped on Kara’s ankle and she screamed along with a crunch. “No! Stop!” Lector pleaded. “Are you going to talk?” Disaster raised his eyebrows. “No, but! But— whatever you have in mind for torture— do it to me, not to her,” Lector pleaded. Disaster considered it. He kicked her, “Shut up. I only mildly broke it, and I’m trying to think here.” Disaster walked around to Lector picking him up and looking him over, “I never would have expected a cold-blooded killer to look so gentle… I’m going to love breaking you…” Disaster squeezed Lector's face hard enough to draw blood, licking it off, “So sweet… get that sorry bitch out of here. I don’t care where you put her. Do what you want. I’m done with her.” “Wait! No!” Lector cried out as they dragged his sister away. Lector winced as he felt a burning pain in one of his legs. “I wouldn’t worry so much about her,” Disaster pulled a cane from seemingly out of nowhere, “I want to see that face you just made some more.” Lector bit his lip, trying to ignore what would be some of the most painful hours of his whole life. — Some hours later, Lector was strapped to a chair busted and bleeding. “Now, I’ve had the Jet track you for a while, and he noted you were out buying a lot of baby stuff,” Disaster had a knife in his hand, “Is little miss Lesura carrying Spencer’s spawn?” He grimaced when he got no answer. Lector hissed as Disaster pressed the knife into Lector’s shoulder. “It’s like, you’re enjoying me trying to break you with how tight-lipped you are,” Disaster pulled Lector’s hair, straddling him, “I guess Spencer isn’t a complete failure as a villain since it’s so difficult to get you to talk.” “Um… I’ve noticed… that this is pretty indecent on top of the torturing,” Lector noted through clenched teeth. “Indecent? What do you mean ‘indecent?’” Disaster got really close to Lector’s face. “Um… Well,” Lector stammered then grunted when Disaster slapped him. “Of course, this is a turn-on for me you fool. Why didn’t you say this seemed a little sexual? What are you? Some sort of prudish gentleman?” Disaster kicked Lector in the chest letting him and the chair topple over. One of Lector’s wrists broke in the fall causing him to cry out. “Listen, man,” Lector panted, “I was just trying to be polite.” “Polite?” Disaster sat on top of Lector’s chest knife to his cheek, “Are you some kind of idiot? You’re being tortured right now, by a deranged maniac who gets off on this shit and you’re worried about being polite?” “Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Lector shrugged, “I think my wrist is broken, so— can you at least get off of me?” “Which wrist?” Disaster asked. “I think the left one— Ah!” Lector screamed as Disaster took a bat to his right leg. “Can’t have you off balance, can we?” Disaster laughed as he sat Lector up, “You never answered my question. Is the Lesura whore pregnant?” “I’m not ta— Aaaaah!” Lector cried out as Disaster swung the bat again. “Oh, dear. You’re going to be a whole ass mess on my phone call now,” Disaster tsked, “Well, you won’t talk but at the very least I can gather it’s not Lesura so I no longer care.” Lector sighed with relief. “That doesn’t mean we’re done here,” Disaster sat Lector up facing a camera, “It’s time to make a video call.”