Captain's Log. HAAAA! I've always wanted to say that shit for real.
Okay, so it's official.
I'm am THE MAN. I mean, like, THE FUCKING MAN! And I haven't even figured out the full extent of my powers yet. That still feels weird to say, "my powers". I've had to exercise a lot of restraint, because I'm surrounded by a whole crapload of weirdos that I don't know shit about, other than the fact that they're fucking out there. We're talking the full gamut of so-called "villains", from the full-on psychopaths all the way to some kind of FUCKING INVISIBLE MAN-GATOR. Yeah, I'm being literal here. He's got some kind of fetish about human experimentation that keeps me awake at night. Well, that and, oh yeah, HE'S FUCKING INVISIBLE. Talk about creepy shit. Obviously, I don't trust a single one of these freaks. They've all been busy little worker bees though, getting all HGTV on our secret villain base.
That's right, we inherited a base, straight out of some kind of jacked-up Bond flick. Well, considering the motley collection of fuck-ups that are currently scrambling around it, more like Dr. Evil from that SNL retard's movie trilogy. There's all kind of retro-style future-tech, along with labs for the invisible man-gator to do his cutting and slicing (or splicing) and various work spaces, along with living quarters. And let me tell you, these fuckers must have known that I was coming, my living space is decked the FUCK out, and comes complete with its own little holding cell. Whoever lived here before me was apparently of the same, shall we say, tastes. I'm changing the security access for the place to keep the rest of this comic-book-villain tree-house-gang out of my shit.
The first foray, right out of the gate, was to attack the prison that we just broke out of, and to kidnap more fucking low-lives to press into service as goddamn "minions". Like I said, this shit is straight-up Dr. Evil shit, you couldn't make it up. SO I went along, just to get a chance to deliver a little payback to the screws who fucked with me inside, but as it happens, we ended up capturing more than just some disposable fuck-up labor, we bagged her highness herself, the Warden. The same chick who delivered the ominous message to me sent from my good "friends" in the Society. I need to have a conversation with her, outside the prying eyes/ears of the super-villain treehouse-gang. This is a priority, and we need to talk about that fucking laptop. I could ask that slutty little trick Tiz to take a look at it, she's got some fucked-up affinity with machines and computers, but I don't trust her any more than the rest of this bunch.
I suppose I need to schedule some time alone with Ms. Warden in my "play room" before the dirty-underwear gang fry her brain with telepathic grape-peeling and the invisible man-gator Dr. Phibes starts poking around in her skull with a dirty stick.