The Monopoly War [FlugHat]

1- Lightbulbs are the Least of My Problems

     ((Authors Note: This is a collaborative piece I've done with my good friend,  @Acatnamednick. So show him some love, as this story is also (soon to be) posted on his account! This chapter takes place immediately after the Villainous pilot episode was aired. It can be found on the Cartoon Network LA YouTube channel.))

!Strong Language Warning!

• • •

         I hoped I'd never have to see her face again, as usual. I usually don't care for face-to-face visits with customers, but after our little "Sunblast" incident—which resulted in a shrunken Sunblast being eaten by our dear Dementia—I wasn't too excited to hear back from Penumbra, once she realizes the only antidote to her condition was meticulously switched with a lightbulb.

        I watched with sweaty palms as Dementia practically shoved Penumbra out the door, before bouncing over to Blackhat to dote on him (per usual). In precisely 6.28 seconds, Blackhat had singed Dementia to a crisp. The paper bag on my head crinkled as I let out an exasperated sigh. One more day. one more day until Blackhat could've beaten his peace record for the year—Not that it was all that impressive. In fact, it was pretty pathetic. I silently pulled out my worn wooden clipboard from my oversized pockets, and wrote the date at the bottom of the page:

BH's PEACE RECORD:

...July 17th- Singed Dementia

July 18th- Mutilated Dementia/
Destroyed 505's eyeballs...Bad day :(

July 20th- Singed Dementia

July 22nd- Dismembered 505
(Note to self: DO NOT let 505
touch BH's stuff AT ANY COST!!!)

July 23rd- Singed Dementia

July 27th- Singed Dementia

         Ah, the joys of summer. Blackhat despises heat with a seething passion. If the weather hits above 65, the benevolent demon's mood sours, and by the looks of his peace record, he's not looking too hot. Pun intended. Flipping through the pages of records stacked upon one-another, I thought of a certain statistical pattern. One I've noticed, and thought over before, but my brain tends to remind me of it quite frequently. Lot's of incidents with Dementia (who's surprised?) and the routine disassembly of 505. None involving me, yet to Blackhat I'm apparently the root of the problem. 

'My inventions, my plans, my fault,' He says. Might as well give me a T-Shirt to sport. I doubt it's because I'm a "pathetic" human. He certainly has no problem turning Dementia inside-out. Then again, I can put her back together no problem. There's no-one here to put me back together.

"Get back to work." Blackhat snarled, stepping gracefully around the burnt crisp of a lizard we called Dementia. Nobody knows where she came from. Nobody knows her real name. All we know is that she was once human, and she could only remember one word, "Dementia," And after a few failed lab experiments, Dementia became, well, Dementia.

          I refused to dispose of my experiment (though now I wish I did, but doing it now would be inhumane), so much to Blackhat's displeasure, she stayed. 505 came shortly after. I like to give the big blue bear the credit of bringing us all together (in some sort of way).

And that was the beginning of our very small, very strange family.

• • •

        The door to the lab swung open, violently banging on the wall. I jumped out of my skin, and felt shivers course through my nerves in waves synchronized with my racing heart.

Blackhat.

Swallowing my fears (and my courage, accidentally), I turned my chair around slowly, awaiting the news.

       Blackhat's silhouette invaded the doorway, the shadows seemingly seeping into my lab from all corners. Like the Cheshire Cat, Blackhat's toothy, tinted green, snarl of a smile was the first thing that came into the light when the self-proclaimed entrepreneur took a step forward.

"Dr. Flug..!" He began, talking in a high-pitched voice, clearly meant to mask something, "You're not busy, are you?"

Both Blackhat and I turned to look at my desk, stacked with piles of unfinished paperwork, blueprints in progress, and days-old crappy coffee cups.

"Uh...No-No sir." I gulped as I forced myself to look directly into the demon's piercing stare.

"Good, because I just got off the phone with Miss Penumbra."

"O-Oh," Oh shit, "What—What did she want to, um, talk about?"

"The fact that you LOST SUNBLAST!!"  Blackhat snarled in my face. Any closer, and that statement would've taken a horrifyingly literal turn. I couldn't help but stare into the infuriated eyes of my boss in pure terror. I knew this would happen. I repeatedly told myself to prepare for this moment and I did, yet my body seemed to forget the pep talk I had given it, as it froze in fear.

          Blackhat yells at me consistently, without fail. I remember being so concerned (despite, well, everything) when he went a single day without ridiculing me. He didn't even singe Dementia, or 505. We hardly even saw him that day. That was two days before he mutilated Dementia, and destroyed 505's eyeballs. Whatever it was, I've found that I'm relieved he's back on track.

"We...We did? Oh, th-that's unfortunate...uhh..." I tried my best to respond, though I've been cursed with a stutter since childhood.

"Don't you play dumb with me—!" Blackhat's jaw unhinged, displaying rows of mint-green teeth, each and every one a fang.

"—Just give me one reason not to rip your head off your scrawny shoulders!!"

"I-I-I—!" Shit, shit, shit.

"I can...give her something that's b-better than Sunblast..!" I stuttered out.

Blackhat's teeth where still barred, but his eyes softened, though they were still bloodshot with rage.

"M-M-Miss Pen-Penumbra...uh—she—she said that—"

"Spit it out!"

Listen man, I can't control my stutter, so what makes you think you can? Asshole.

"Sh-She wanted Sunblast for a—for an antidote, I think. An-An antidote for her condition!"

"Fine then, make one." Blackhat sneered, returning to his usual, much less intimidating form in half a second, making me jump.

Dammit! Every. Single. Time, it startles me!

"Looks like you'll jump out of your skin, before I rip it off..." Blackhat said with a malicious scowl, peculiarly hiding the ghost of a smile.

"Oh, yeah, haha..." I laughed awkwardly, shuffling uncomfortably on my two left feet.

Then my boss was gone, and I was left alone with my stacks of paperwork, and an antidote to create for a condition no one can diagnose. I huffed, before saying with a sigh:

"Look's like I'm in for a night..."