LOL! This is an amusing little story about a low budget supervillain. Due to the realities of the current real estate market they are just squatting in an abandoned Chipotle as their lair:
Low Budget Supervillain Story
Media Chomp
Internet & Geek Culture
Copyright © 2024 Media Chomp
“Behold, my ultimate death weapon! Wait, why is this not lighting up?”
“Um, boss, sorry, but we kind of took a few of the components to fix the tortilla press.”
“What?”
“Well, you said to use whatever we needed to keep going, and we really needed the tortilla press.”
“And the parabolic dish? What happened to that?”
“You mean the guacamole holder?”
Oh, yes, they want world domination. No question. But while most of the staff keeps away from El Jefe, the lady who actually -runs- the place has ZERO problem with barging in on him. And, since by now it’s the best cover he’s ever had and he’s invested so much time in his Underground Hideout(TM), he lets her. Eventually, he just expects to have a weekly meeting on Wednesday, 3:30 sharp. His defense system AI has it programmed in to remind him and to adjust his schedule accordingly so he’ll be awake for it.
Weirdly, the defense system has never been explicitly told to admit Carlotta the Cook, but she’s in the memory banks and has Authorization to speak with the supervillain about anything involving HER kitchen. Its questionable whether the AI enjoys the way the supervillain squirms when she’s ranting, or whether the AI is low-grade scared to try and stop her. What if it vaporizes her? What happens to the restaurant and their front organization?
Not really listening, the supervillain endures her rapid-fire Spanish, nods, and gives instructions for the robots to give her what she wants. New microwaves? 50,000 watts. Broken lights? The whole ceiling is a glowing panel. Supply problems? Cloning tanks for meat and underground hydroponics. Staffing shortages because they’re sick? Drones fly out to shoot them with drug-loaded darts, curing them of pesky things like food poisoning, the common cold, and cancer.
There’s no health plan. We’re talking about forged papers and illegal immigrants. But they never -need- a doctor.
The AI is obviously the one cooking the books and siphoning off money for the supervillain. But… the restaurant is… turning a profit? A good profit? Whoa, that’s a lot of money rolling in…
Carlotta has plans. She has the sign changed. The color scheme. The works. It’s the best food since pickles were invented and she damn well -knows- it. And, for the first time in her life, she’s got money.
Carlotta’s opens another location. The supervillain doesn’t need to be bothered with things like obtaining workers, forging papers, and all that sort of thing. Carlotta wants her mother’s friend, Juanita, from Guadalajara, to run a kitchen. Juanita doesn’t get a passport and a plane ticket. She gets picked up in a drone helicopter and presented with her dossier and birth certificate. She doesn’t know much about running an actual restaurant, but the staff know their jobs and Juanita can run a kitchen more effectively than any sergeant runs a squad.
One day, the supervillain has finally completed his death ray. He’s exhausted from all his work, but, at last, the world will bow before his awesome might or feel the lash of his cosmic fromblotzer as the K-rays bounce off the Moon to devastate the ionosphere and lay waste to the world! HA-HA-HA-HA!
But even a supervillain needs to eat, and, hey, now that he has time to notice, he’s been eating pretty well. Really well. The Mexican food has been hot and always ready, and somebody has always been on hand to make sure he’s eating.
He comes out of his lair, rising up through the hidden elevator in the walk-in freezer. He emerges into the restaurant. It’s a place of bustling, happy activity. People see him and cheer. They surround him, clapping him on the back, shaking his hand. He’s confused as hell. No one has ever–EVER–been glad to see him. He doesn’t know who any of these people are, but they obviously love him, which makes him deeply, deeply suspicious, because he hasn’t got a clue about what’s going on…
…and he sees in the large, almost lavish breakroom, a life-size picture of himself, hard at work, face stern with concentration as he wields both screwdriver and soldering iron on some stylized piece of hardware. Above it, “Nuestro Fundador y Patrón”–Our Founder and Patron–are hand-carved into the picture frame. Candles are all around it, flickering in the cheering.
Maybe holding the world to ransom can wait a while.
Really nice extention of the original idea.
Maybe he changes his plan from global domination via death ray, to global domination of the restaurant industry.