“Your worries are over, for I have arrived!”
Anthracite looked up from his work and saw a tall, broad-shouldered, humanoid youma standing in front of his desk with a smug, self-important look on his face. His skin looked like giraffe’s—except where a giraffe has brown spots on a beige background, this demon had black spots on a dully glowing green background. The “hands” at the end of his arms were each comprised of four long fingers arranged in a rough square around his “wrist.” Each of these fingers were opposable, which meant that any one of them could function the way a human thumb could. At the end of each finger was a nasty-looking claw, though one on each hand had been noticeably trimmed back.
He was apparently a traditionalist as far as clothes went, which in youma terms meant he went au naturel (fortunately, like many youma, he also had no visible genitalia—he was categorized as “male” mostly due to his frame and his personality). The only concession to the concept of clothing the youma had made was a pair of aviator sunglasses which were apparently worn to tone down the intense blue glow of his eyes—either that, or he thought that they looked cool. Based solely on the way the youma carried himself, Anthracite’s money was on the latter.
“Ah, you must be Llobewu,” Anthracite said cordially, choosing to ignore the fact that the youma was twenty minutes late. “Please, sit down.”
Llobewu grinned and replied, “Don’t mind if I do.” The youma sat down in a convenient chair and put his feet up on the desk, spilling Anthracite’s coffee on to a stack of second quarter earnings reports. “Um, whoops—sorry about that.” Despite his regrets over the incident, the youma’s feet remained on the mahogany desk.
“Don’t worry—they weren’t that important,” Anthracite lied. He hadn’t known Llobewu for more than thirty seconds, and already he disliked him.
“I don’t want to waste your time, as the job I have for you is of the utmost urgency.”
“Okay, so let’s hear it.”
“I need you to find the Orb of MacGuffin.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a mystical artifact dating back to the Silver Millennium that increases one’s mental acumen, allowing for a degree of precision in spell casting that is all but impossible to get through conventional methods. If I had the Orb of MacGuffin, the number and variety of spells in my arsenal would increase exponentially, and the Senshi’s defeat would be assured.”
“Um, I knew that—I just wanted to make sure you did. So, where is this Orbital Goofball? In somebody’s soul, or something?”
“Not quite—you see, the Orb of MacGuffin enhances one’s intelligence, therefore, you must search the mind.”
“Oh… so you want me to bust their skulls open.” Llobewu could do that—at least, it looked pretty easy in Grand Theft Chocobo III.
Anthracite inhaled deeply to prevent himself from lashing out at this amazing specimen of ineptitude. “No… I didn’t say you could find it in someone’s brain, I said you have to find it in the mind.”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No, they are not the same thing. The brain is a physical object, while the mind is an abstract concept.”
“The what now?”
Rather than give a lecture on metaphysics, Anthracite decided to do what he’d been doing for most of the conversation: feed the idiot more bullshit. “The mind is like the soul, only smarter.”
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?”
Because I didn’t think you were that thick, Anthracite didn’t reply. “Anyway, the Orb of MacGuffin—”
“What’s that?”
“It’s what you’re looking for, remember?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“The Orb of MacGuffin won’t be found in just any mind—it has to be a special mind… one of wisdom and intelligence and purity and beauty….” Take the bait take the bait take the bait take the bait…. Llobewu had to be tricked into thinking the next part of the plan was his idea; according to Bob, the youma’s ego was so massive that whenever he got an idea, he always followed through with it without hesitation, because he refused to admit to anyone (especially himself) that he might actually be wrong about something. Thus, he’d accept even the most flawed reasoning in the world without question, as long as he thought that that reasoning was his. Of course, when he failed (which was often) he usually managed to shift the blame to someone else (i.e., Bob), but that was unimportant for the moment.
Unfortunately, the youma just looked lost, so Anthracite tried making it a bit easier: “But where to start looking for a mind that is truly beautiful?”
“A beautiful mind?” the youma repeated hesitantly. “Isn’t that a movie or something?”
“A movie! Of course! A beautiful mind would surely find the cinema irresistibly engaging—there’s no way it could possibly avoid the chance to appreciate the intricacies of such an audiovisual art form. Llobewu, you’re a genius!”
“I… I am? I mean, yeah, I guess I am!”
“But with so much cinematic dreck in the movie theaters these days, how do we know which one to choose?” Anthracite paused as if deep in thought. He was taking a minor risk here, but if his understanding of this dork’s personality was correct….
“Well, there is this one movie—Amazon Tree Frogs on a Spaceship. Man, that one looks awesome.”
Perfect. “Well, I’m sure that a beautiful mind would be attracted to such fare—after all, I hear that you have a very discerning palate for entertainment. Surely the mind we seek, being of the type inevitably drawn to great works of cinema, will be found at a theater showing Amazon Tree Frogs on a Spaceship. Your plan is simply brilliant!”
Llobewu smiled smugly at this. Time to use some of that “humility” crap that they’re always talking about—the bigwigs love that shit. “Oh, you flatter me too much—I’m sure that there must be something that I’m not good at. Even though you needed my help for the overall idea as well as all of details, you deserve some credit yourself—after all, you were smart enough to get me to do all your thinking for you.” There we go… not only was I humble, I even complimented him. That’s definitely got to be worth a few extra brownie points.
Though he didn’t show it on his face, Anthracite came to a slightly different conclusion. Is this guy for real? He can’t even kiss my ass right! Thus, the Dark General decided to wrap things up before this youma could embarrass himself further. “So, that settles it—tonight you’ll go to the 7 o’clock showing of Amazon Tree Frogs on a Spaceship at the Royale Megaplex in Juuban, find that beautiful mind, and bring me the Orb of MacGuffin.”
Llobewu’s ego was so puffed up by this point, he didn’t even notice that his mission hadn’t actually been discussed at that level of detail. “No problem,” he said with a smirk. This would be a piece of cake—he’d be done before the Senshi even knew what was happening, get that Orb of Kajagoogoo (or whatever it was called) and then he’d be living the high life. It all made perfect sense—but then, why shouldn’t it? It was his idea after all.
The youma decided it would be best to finish the conversation in a casual tone—the two of them had gotten pretty chummy over this conversation, after all, and Anthracite clearly respected him enough to allow him to use a pet name. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Anthy, I’ll take care of—OOF!”
Llobewu had more than a foot on his employer, and nearly twice his mass. Thus it was to his great surprise that the Dark General had managed to grab him by the neck and pin him against the wall. In a flash, Anthracite’s demeanor had changed from “polite and businesslike” to “downright furious.” He practically growled as he began, “You listen to me and listen good. Under no circumstances are you to ever refer to me by that name. Understand?”
Unfortunately for the youma, he didn’t. “Wha—? What name? AnthYYkgYkY?!!”
Anthracite increased the pressure on the youma’s neck as he reiterated his command. “Under. No. Circumstances.”
The green-and-black youma was too busy choking to verbally form a reply, but he somehow managed to nod his head, which prompted Anthracite to release Llobewu from his grasp.
“Good. Now, get to work.” The Dark General turned and started moving back to his desk.
“But what about—”
Anthracite didn’t even look back as he answered. “The ninjamarketing divison will give you any further information you need. Now please leave before I do something I’ll regret.”
Llobewu didn’t bother sticking around—he immediately left for the Negaverse to get ready for his attack.
When he was certain the youma was gone, Anthracite snapped his fingers. “Check!”
“Yes, my lord?”
“I want you and your squad to follow that idiot and make sure he actually does what we agreed he would do—nothing more, nothing less. Timing like this doesn’t come along every day, and I don’t want his stupidity messing things up.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Oh, and one other thing—make sure he doesn’t seriously hurt anyone—especially the silos. I want the Senshi to be annoyed, not out for vengeance.”
“Of course.” The ninjamarketer disappeared to see to his task.
Anthracite leaned back in his seat. He had to admit, Bob sure knew how to pick ’em. He’d asked for an expendable moron, and Bob had delivered. He was definitely going to have to set a limit on the levels of stupidity in the future.
The despot glanced at the clock on his wall—it time to get ready to meet with another idiot. He switched to his “Gerald Stewart” form just in time to be buzzed by his human secretary. “Your 2 o’clock is here, sir.”
“Send him in, Miki.” A few minutes later, a short man in a fitted suit entered the room. Gerald Stewart bowed respectfully as he greeted his visitor: “I’m pleased to meet you, Assemblyman Hino. Please, sit down.”
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(Posted Wed, 27 Sep 2006 07:12)
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