Primate Typings

From the Desk of the Dictator:

Welcome back from your weekend, everyone.

Elite, print this out for the ancient bastard so he can read it. CRANKPOT, YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE OF TECHNEFARIOUS. I killed my immediate predecessor to get the job. I’ve killed plenty of uppity henchmen to keep it. If you don’t believe me, let me remind you of the conversation we had to get you submit to testing. I haven’t lost any upper body strength in the past week, so I can dangle you out a window again if I need to.

Speaking of Dr. Crankpot, founder of Technefarious and pain in my ass, we’re still not sure why he is alive. I set Crankpot up with a lab and made Elite his assistant, but I also insisted he submit to every poke, prod, and pie-eating contest that the science and occult departments could think to put him through. Our current Crankpot is not a robot or a clone or a homunculus or an evil twin from another dimension or a good triplet from an alternate timeline. There are holes in his memory when compared to the historical record, especially concerning the final days of his life. Aside from that last bit, the memory distortion is perfectly normal for a human. The missing memories from those final days suggest that he may be time-jumped from shortly before he died. They also suggest that his body may have been resurrected or rebuilt from when he apparently died, and the damage from coming back cost him some memories. It is possible that that this is his original body, since his death was one of those lost in an explosion deals. We’re still working on it, but it looks like he might be himself, rather than some sort of trap by the Establishment.

Also missing from Crankpot’s memory is why he was in prison. No one of has any doubt that he deserved to be there. The question is what mix of courts and bureaucracy ended up with putting him in Bleach’s cell. The computer department is still trying to trace that information.

Until we have that history, Elite Triad will just have to keep Crankpot under control, or we may find out how well he bounces after a long fall from a window.

With everything that’s been going on, it’s been a while since I mentioned our ongoing war of nonsense packages with the Golden Web. The last thing they sent us was a box full of pirated superhero action figures from China. In retaliation for their shipment of excess lead and trademark infringements, I’m sending them half of a prop rifle from the Pilot Sunrise movies. It’s actual movie memorabilia, but only half of it survived an energetic encounter I had with Razor Lady. If my paramour Green Needle happens to be reading this, let me assure you that it happened long before we hooked up. For the rest of you, I’ll try to be more vigilant in keeping you up with these things. I mean the exchanges with the Golden Web, not my sexual activities. Those two things haven’t intersected yet.

In honor of our recovering Dr. Crankpot, the propaganda department is screening the classic documentary: Technefarious: Triumphs Through The Decades. It will be shown in Auditorium A on Wednesday night. Friday night is the annual Barbeque Blowout, so bring your families for an evening of food and fun. I’ll be cooking the hot dogs.

Have a good week, everyone. Remember, the world is already ours – it just doesn’t realize it yet.

Your Leader,

Dr. Photius Callaway
The Killing Man

From the Desk of the Dictator:

Welcome back from your weekend to everyone.

This week we’re doing a test run on Pipewrench’s Dimension Projector. We’ve had to modify it from his original design. The destruction of his earlier build and my desire to wrap up this project means we’ve reduced the amount of automation needed to run the machine. However, that also means we’ll need more personnel to run the equipment. Throw in the assault and extraction teams I intend to bring along, and that calls for making a few shakedown flights before our attack.

I also want to take a moment to remind everyone that although this is Pipewrench’s project, I’m the one in charge. I would also like to remind Pipewrench that while I don’t arbitrarily kill my staff, I still find myself having to execute individual Technefarious employees on a regular basis.

Its overeager creator aside, the Dimension Projector is a slick piece of work. At its core is a Galaticguard Wrist Armory wired to the cutting from the Suncloud’s floating vine and enough Travel Apples to filled a garbage can. Flowing through that unnatural heart are arteries flowing with Cosmic Kinetic Fluid and Essence of the Southern Lights. It should have quite a kick when fired. I certainly wouldn’t want to be standing in front of it when it goes off. Once we have it in the air, we’re going to fire it on its lowest charge to see what happens.

We’ll also be testing the cloaking capabilities of the invisibility mist we collected. If it works against Technefarious sensors, it should hold up against those our target deploys.

For those of you not involved in Project Cut Flower, Frigid is going around this week collecting updates on the progress of some of our other projects. When we have this wrapped up, I have to make a decision on what we’re going to concentrate on next.

This week our propaganda department has decided to inflict culture on us. There will be a performance by some opera singers in Auditorium A on Wednesday if you’re interested. I’m not sure why they’re bothering. There hasn’t been a decent opera riot in ages.

Listen, nobody tell Green Needle about the opera singers, all right? She’d probably make me wear a tux.

In any event, I thought you all might like to know that another package arrived from our enemies at the Golden Web. It was an electronic pocket calculator from the 1970’s. It is still in its original packaging. Nine-volt battery sold separately. I’m going to have to consider our response.

Have a good week everyone. Remember, the world is already ours – it just doesn’t realize it yet.

Your Leader,

Dr. Photius Callaway

The Killing Man

From the Desk of the Dictator:

Welcome back from your weekend everyone.

It’s good to be back. For those wondering where I was at the end of last week, I took a few days off. Escaping from the clutches of some deeply disturbed aliens was exhausting, so after I got back, I spent a couple of days at home catching up on my sleep. What’s the point of being charge of a supervillain organization if you can’t take a personal day now and then? Speaking of which, why did anyone place bets that I was actually on vacation with Green Needle in the betting pool about my disappearance? I’m a SUPERVILLAIN. Taking a vacation with a beautiful woman is the cover I use for committing criminal activity. Why would I lie about getting abducted by aliens to cover up my getting laid? The odds that Frigid had secretly staged a coup and had me assassinated was a safer bet.

Speaking of whom, I’d like to extend a special thanks to Frigid for keeping Technefarious ticking along while I was unavailable. I have reports on minor advancements of several projects while I was away. I’m happy to report I brought back my own contribution to our work from my trip. Among the materials I had Fusion Man make for me back on the Asyms’s ship were two energy collection rods that we were using months ago to gather his signature radiation for Project Cut Flowers. He didn’t know what they were, and I collected a lot in the short time we worked together since he was using his powers instead of just sulking in a cell.

Still, not everything during my absence was betting pools and serendipitous radiation collection. Frigid had to deal with her own insurrection while I was away. A half-dozen henchmen tried assassinate her, Bleach, and the Elite Triad. Strictly speaking, it was not a coup because they were acting on behalf of the Golden Web. Technefarious’s rivalry with the G.W. goes all back the way back to our founder, Dr. Crankpot. They tried to recruit the good (evil) Doctor at the beginning of his career, but he rejected them. Even as a youngster, he was a cranky old bastard that didn’t like taking orders. Technefarious grew out of the henchmen Crankpot surrounded himself with, so naturally we bumped heads with the G.W. in our competition to conquer the world. The current leaders of the Golden Web decided my absence was perfect time to strike at us.

I executed Henchmen 85G-0U (Charlie), 35S-6N (Hank), 91Z-0U (Robert), 43F-1L (Archie), 27L-5L (Scott), 21V-6C (Jean) for their infiltration of Technefarious on the Golden Web’s behalf. While we mull our response options, I had their ashes shipped back to the G.W. with a note and a bomb attached.

Have a good week everyone. Remember, the world is already ours – it just doesn’t realize it yet.

Your Leader,

Dr. Photius Callaway

The Killing Man

From the Desk of the Dictator:

Welcome back from your weekend everyone.

To recap the last few weeks: others and myself were kidnapped by aliens freaky even by alien standards in that their species isn’t particularly genetically stable. Shine dubbed them Asyms due to their asymmetrical bodies. The Asyms spend their spare time seeking out the best genetic arrangement by pitting their abductees against each other and themselves in combat. I probably would have just introduced them to one of universe killers that live on Earth if they had just asked nicely, but they weren’t really interested in taking tea with me.

Instead, they dumped me in with Green Needle, Fusion Man, and Shine Jackson. That would be a medical doctor who specializes in killing things, a biologist specializing in creating exotic alterations in the living, a superhero with easy access to the entire spectrum of fusion/fission reactions, and a blogger for whom bizarre adventures is a common place. Apparently they couldn’t see the trouble that combination might create.

First, they let us keep our basic equipment, because they consider tools part of a being’s genetic expression. Fusion Man brought his pocket lint, I brought my Technefarious communicator and a few sharp objects, Green Needle brought her apothecary-in-a-gun and a few other tools, and Shine brought his tablet and cell phone. Really, I’m selling Shine short. Sometime during his adventures, he picked up a bunch of different super-science widgets and crammed them all in normal looking computer equipment. Universal translator? Check. Full EM spectrum wifi recognition? Check. Local area sensor suite? Check. Media editing? Check. Using the wifi to connect to the Aysms’s computers, Shine hacked into their system using the universal translator, recorded a picture of our cell with his cell phone, and created a fake video to fool their security system with the media editor. I might have claimed earlier that Shine doesn’t have any superpowers. I think I lied.

Once he was in, Shine also dumped the data he stole into Green Needle’s cell phone and my communicator to let us dig through their data to develop a plan. It turned out the reason Fusion Man couldn’t just blast his way out of our cell is that the Asyms coated every surface in the ship with a force field that they manipulated with the wands their carried around. When they wanted to shove us around, all they had to do was wrap us in fields extending from the walls and push. We also found their transportation method – galactic range spontaneous small wormhole generation. They didn’t have a ship over Earth; just a small scouting probe that could direct the wormholes. Getting home required getting through one of their wormholes which required getting past the force field which required dealing with the Asyms.

While Green Needle wading through the Asyms genetic history looking for ways to take them apart, I had Fusion Man make me stuff from the food they were feeding us. We started with a wand for the force fields, so we could get at the walls, so Fusion could make more equipment derived from the Technefarious equipment designs I keep in my communicator. By the time I had everything I wanted, Green Needle was ready to go, so we went. Having hacked through their defenses and found vulnerabilities in their wild genetic structure, we stomped across the ship, leaving havoc in our wake. After fighting our way through a six firefights, a dozen hostile fellow-abductees, and one fat mountain of happiness-inducing marmalade (I’d love to know the full story behind that one), we made our to the teleportation room. I ran the now hacked controls for the unit, sending everyone else through first and leaving something behind for the Asyms.

Back on Earth, Fusion expressed his admiration to me for my willingness to be last off of the Asyms’s ship. I responded that among the items I had him make for me back in the cell was a bomb strong enough to rip apart the spaceship even with all its force fields intact and that I’d stayed behind so I could arm it.

Fusion Man doesn’t like me very much.

Before he could decide if he really wanted to kill and before he remembered that he was supposed to be arresting me for the many, many crimes I’ve committed over the years, Green Needle hooked into Technefarious’s own teleportation systems and spirited us away.

That’s enough for now. It’s just good to be home.

Have a good week everyone.

Your Leader,

Dr. Photius Callaway

The Killing Man

From the Desk of the Dictator:

Welcome back from your weekend everyone.

Frigid assures me that you’ve all been good little henchmen while I’ve been stranded on the far side of the universe, and frankly, that terrifies me.

To calm my nerves, I’ll fill you in on what I’ve been up to since my abduction by aliens.  Did I mention that it was Green Needle’s fault? The Asyms abducted her first. According to Shine, the Asyms are always born as not-twins, so they assume all other species must also come as a mismatched set. When they are asked Green Needle to identify her other half, she chose me. I said she should have chosen Rage Carnage, instead. She responded that she wanted someone who would help her back to Earth, not someone that would blow up the entire space ship. I told her that we would just have to see about that.  

Physically, the Asyms are notable for their variety of body shapes. They display very little in the way of symmetry, with mismatched limbs and organs stuck randomly along their body. Despite their mishmash of fish/mammal/reptile/insect/bird/tree/amoeba/non-Euclidean-monster-parts, they manage to move with a lethal grace. Apparently, their species has a staggering rate of mutations, fueled in part by their reproductive cycle. Shine claims that after the “egg” and “sperm” of a mated not-twin pair mix, the fertilized result scrambles the available genetic material and then splits into a new pair of not-twins. This happens by the trillions when they mate. Most combinations die immediately, and not-twins that lose their other half are quickly swarmed under by the complete not-twin pairs, resulting in a new horde of asymmetrical abominations every generation. Apparently, only their lifelong link to their not-twin and their reproductive cycle is the only things that breed true. Considering how many superpowers are the side effects of mutations on our planet, you can imagine the range of abilities they have as a species. It doesn’t seem particularly efficient way to go about it to me, but it’s a weird universe.

Impressed by the diversity they saw while observing Earth, they decided to take an extra sample of the local fauna besides Green Needle and myself. I’ve mention that Fusion Man was along for this trip in my last memo, which means that yes, the Shine I keep mentioning in this one is Shine Jackson: Action Blogger. Shine isn’t really a proper superhero, falling more into the Jimmy Olsen (Earth 1) or Rick Jones (Earth 616) spectrum of sidekick: no natural power set of his own, he still manages hang in with the heaviest of superhero adventures. Shine has had superpowers now and then, but nothing that stays with him all the time. Of course, his best friend is Fusion Man, who you can imagine was just delighted to see me as a fellow abductee. Actually, he assumed I was in league with the aliens, which isn’t surprising considering Technefarious had him imprisoned ourselves a few months ago. Shine and Green Needle managed to convince him otherwise, but it was kind of dicey there for a few minutes.

The Asyms watched our less-than-friendly scuffle without interfering, which is typical for them. Apparently, they spend their time trying to discover the ultimate evolution, a state they seem to think comes about by one organism destroying another. I’ve actually killed two not-twin pairs on this trip so far. They have the technology to corral us without making themselves vulnerable, but they’ll still expose themselves to us to see how we’ll react. Not being a superhero, I usually react by trying to whittle their numbers down. They’re tough enough but won’t normally come to the aid of someone who isn’t their not-twin. If I want to fight a pair, the Asym will let me, just to see if I will die. I don’t, and then they use their force fields to force back to whatever holding area they had us in that day.

My murders on this trip haven’t been limited to the Asyms. We’re not the only sample they’ve taken from the universe, and like kids putting insects in a glass jar, they’ll dump us together to see how we’ll react to the other aliens in the menagerie. That is how I got hurt last week. Bored by the fact that we four humans weren’t fighting among ourselves anymore, they added these two toxic radioactive piles of sludge. The goo took an immediate dislike to us, leaping to devour Shine as he recorded his impressions of our new roommates. Fusion Man, of course, leapt to his aid, but the sludges hit him with some sort of radiation burst that disoriented him (science department, please take note). My powers tipped me off that letting the piles devour Fusion would cause an unpleasant reaction to the local area, so I had to leap in, earning myself two goo-dissolved nubs of what use to be my hands, followed up by a mouth full of goo when I screamed. If Fusion Man hadn’t been still functioning well enough to fly me away from the fight, I would have been even more miserable than I was while my body parts regrew. While that was going on, Green Needle had been methodically cycling through her arsenal of poisoned needles in her gun, finally happening upon a combination that the sludge didn’t like.

The Asyms left us alone while Fusion Man and I recovered from the fight, but they’ve started mixing us with new roommates again. That’s a good thing. We four humans have been working on a plan.

Have a good week everyone. I’ll be home soon.

Your Leader,

Dr. Photius Callaway

The Killing Man

Dictctor desk

Typng withh nose

No fingrs or tongue rght now

Green neeedle regrwng them but short posst for tody

Hurt savng fusion manns liife

Then he savd mine

He sayss merry xmass

Mor laate

Pho

The gonna killl aliens man

From the Desk of the Dictator:

Welcome back from your weekend everyone.

As some of you may have already noticed, I’m not in my office today. This is not because I took an unscheduled vacation or a sick day. No, it’s because I was kidnapped by aliens. Oh sure, it happens to all of us. White light, strapped down, probe up the butt, but usually you wake up in your own bed in the morning.

Hang on one moment.

Green Needle tells me that doesn’t happen all that much, although she says she’s willing to help with my butt probe on this trip. I told her we would discuss that later, after we’ve settled the immediate issues at hand.

For example, as the leader of Technefarious, I’m going to order that our department heads assign some resources to find out where the heck I am. While Green Needle arranged to have me kidnapped with all with all my equipment, I don’t actually carry anything that lets me know where I am when I’m not on Earth. The split-photon signal we use in communicators is generally not blockable by technology means, so I’m reasonably confident this memo is going to be posted. I’m also told split-photons are not traceable, which means the science department won’t be able to just track my signal. I’m not sure we’re still in Earth orbit, so the occult department may have a tough time reaching me too. Get to work, people.

Hang on one moment.

Green Needle says I should have said, “where the hell I am” in the last paragraph, because I’m a supervillain. She also says my communicator looks suspiciously like a cell phone. I’m going to ignore her now.

I’m putting Frigid in charge while I’m gone. If you don’t like it, take it up with the Elite Triad. Remember everyone, if I don’t agree with any coups you carry out against my appointed replacement while I’m gone, I’ll kill you.

Sounds like the aliens are coming back now, so I’m going to hit post.

Have a good week everyone. And remember, the world is already ours – well, just yours right now, I guess. Keep it safe for me.

Your Leader,

Dr. Photius Callaway  

The Killing Man