The Autobiography of a Super-villainMature

The Autobiography of a Super-villain
A science-fiction biography of a... wait for it... Super-villain

Redman strode through the doorway, straight-arming the door open before him. “Happy holiday, customers and loyal employees of Fitchett and Grubb – local trade emporium,” he declared, wearing a super-sized shit-eating grin. “I have come here today to relieve you of your most worrying financial problems, that is,” he continued, pausing to ruffle the hair of a small child frozen in the act of trying to take advantage of the disturbance by palming a large handful of loose candies, “if your greatest concerns are how to decide what to spend your hard-earned cash on!”

He spun around and stared fixedly toward the corner behind the cash register, waving at the small web-cam mounted in the corner. “If you are also worried about how quickly the local authorities are going to attend this minor public disturbance, may I take this opportunity to assure you that they are presently totally unaware of what is going on here, and that they will remain blissfully ignorant of these happenings for sufficient time for my delectable assistant to remove any loose cash, electronic banking media and valuables of particular interest.”

Donna took this as her cue to sashay into the store, carrying a large canvas sack. Moving from person to person, she freely helped herself to all their cash, credit cards and valuable metal items as she went.

“Now, you may all be puzzled as to what is going on,” Redman continued, hamming up his performance like the most unctuous Vaudeville comedian to ever have trod the stage, “but I will now, for the price of your valuables, educate you as to what you are all witnessing here and now. You are all,” he continued, “suffering from a totally unexpected failure of your autonomous nervous systems and, similarly, the electrical and electronic sub-systems pertaining to mobile phones, alarms and all other nonesuch devices have all been jammed thanks to this incredible beyond the current state of the art device that I am holding in my hand here!”

Brandishing an unimpressive hand-sized black box with one large red button and a matching indicator lamp on it, he went on. “Now you may be wondering why my good friend Donna and I are unaffected by this.” He paused, looking around as if waiting for the question from the muted assemblage before him. “No-one?”

Turning his head to check the progress of affairs, Redman noted that Donna had now finished and was cinching up the top of the now-bulging cloth bag. He nodded quickly and, taking her instruction from that, she bowed, sashayed once more and then walked calmly out again, carrying the bag over her shoulder.

Redman scanned the store again, checking for movement. “Let me further inform you people before I go, by giving you a quote from a well-known science fiction author from before my time. Arthur C. Clarke proposed three fundamental laws to be used when predicting the future; the third one being that 'any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'”

Quickly returning the box to his voluminous pockets, he gave a big flourish and then strode casually outside through the door again.

Waiting in the alleyway behind the store, Donna gave him a big grin when he rejoined her. “Another flawless extraction of finances, Redman,” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” he smirked, “now, lets get back to our own time and multiverse, and take advantage of all the fruits of these labours.”

The End

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