In the meantime, at the Legion of Doom…

  Unfortunately, the Legion was being redecorated — something about “more skulls, fewer ergonomic chairs” — so the group had been forced to book the meeting room at the Airport Hilton instead.

  One black chandelier burned overhead, casting a shadowy light over a large square table.

  Twelve intricate black wooden chairs surrounded it like a jury of judgmental furniture.

  The room was dark. Unwelcoming. It smelled like someone had been brooding over something evil there for years. The sound of malicious laughter still clung to the walls, like it was just waiting for the right moment to burst out again.

  In short: it looked exactly like the kind of place where villains from across the multiverse might gather to decide whether a particular protagonist was a hero… or just a nuisance.

  It was empty, except for one toddler.

  He wore a crumpled blue shirt, a shiny aluminum foil hat, and a grin far too large for such a small face. Vic Chaos was carefully placing chocolate chip cookies on each of the twelve chairs.

  He hadn’t actually been invited. But the Coon didn’t feel like attending, so he’d sent Vic in his place — even helped him bake the cookies.

  “Why are all the chocolate chips only on the top cookies?” Vic asked, inspecting one. “The ones on the bottom are blank! Oh well. Still better than nothing.”

  He resumed cookie distribution. “At least we’re evil with a smile on our faces.”

  One by one the guests came in and sat down.

  “Why am I here?” asked a dark, gravelly voice. “I’m not evil.”

  A man in a black suit, a long cape, and a pointy bat mask was seated at the table, arms crossed.

  “Well, your name is Bad Man,” Vic said brightly.

  “With a T,” he snapped. “You’re all just messing with me.” He slammed a fist onto the table.

  “Of course, deary,” said the gold-painted man next to him. “But I’m sure all those people you dropped off rooftops would agree you’re doing something villainous.” His voice was too cheerful, each syllable a dagger wrapped in gift wrap.

  “They were criminals,” Batman growled, standing and pointing accusingly at Mr. Gold.

  Who replied in the same mocking tone as he was accustomed to “Did you apprehend them after graduating from a police academy? And did you give them a fair trial?”

  Batman, thought it through, grumpily sat back down and bit into his cookie.

  “Hmph. And carbs.”

  “Aaahh…” hissed a bald man with no nose. His features were disturbingly serpentine. He stared at his cookie, the chocolate chips slightly resembled a lightning bolt. “Bad memoriessss,” Voldemort muttered.

  “Does this have lactose?” he asked the asthmatic man next to him, who was wheezing under a black helmet.

  “Haaaah... Ahhhhh...” came the breathy preamble, followed by a metallic rasp. “It’s a cookie. Of course it has lactose.” He held it protectively closer to his face. “I hope so, otherwise it would be terrible.”

  “Why doesn’t mine have any chocolate chips?” asked a green-glowing cyborg woman. Wires protruded from her head and disappeared into the ceiling.

  “I demand to know,” she said in a perfectly emotionless polyphonic tone. “Resistance is futile. And entirely dependent on chocolate chip cookies having chocolate chips.” she said to Voldemort who nodded. “It does not compute.”

  Vic swapped his chip-filled cookie for her plain one. The Borg Queen smiled.

  “I can’t have chocolate,” said a dark lion with a mangled face. “I’m a lion.” He gently tapped the cookie off the table with one paw. Then, smiling with the quiet joy of chaos, he began tapping his glass of water toward the edge.

  “But we all appreciate the gesture,” Vic said, sounding more hopeful than convinced.

  A metal clad man with a greenish cape looked at Vic, then at his cookie, then back again. Longing flickered in the fireless hollows of his eyes. With a sigh, Dr. Doom picked up the cookie and tried to smell it. Unsure if successful then he tried to jam it in the little slit where his mouth should be.

  Suddenly, the cookie was snatched away by the grey creature beside him and hurled across the room.

  “You has it raw?” the creature squeaked, barely tall enough to peek over the table. “We likes it raw and juicy!”

  “No, Gollum,” Vic said firmly, wagging a finger. “That upsets your tummy, remember?”

  “Aaaahhh... haaaa...” the man in the black mask joined in, voice full of echoey schadenfreude. “I remember you cried the whole time. Like a little child.”

  Gollum pouted and slumped down but stayed quiet.

  ***

  Twelve chairs. Nine filled.

  Maleficent, of course, would be fashionably late.

  “If anyone could please refrain from commenting on her weight this time,” Vic said sweetly, “we might actually make it through the agenda. We’re running out of evil characters to invite, you know.”

  “Is that why you invited me?” Batman asked hopefully.

  “No,” Vic replied, shaking his head. “You sort of blew up that mental hospital, remember? Pretty sure that got you your seat.”

  “Full of evil?” Batman asked, with that puppy-eyed optimism only the deeply delusional can manage.

  “Full of patients,” Voldemort hissed. “Needing help.”

  “Lost your family there, love?” Mr. Gold added, voice dripping with cruelty.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Scar chuckled. “He’s just jealous that he didn’t think of it first. He tried — and failed — to destroy a school”

  The Borg Queen stabbed the next stab. “That sounds really hard.”

  Several tried very hard not to giggle.

  “A magic school,” Lord Voldemort snapped.

  “Yes, yes, no army can conquer that, can they, precious?” Gollum snorted, delighted.

  “If only you could have some giants on your side.” Dr Doom said, words dripping with venom.

  Laughter rippled down the table like spilled poison.

  “Well,” Voldemort said, desperate to change the subject. ”How’s Padmé?” He suddenly shouted toward the heavy-breathing man.

  A goblet flew across the room. Darth Vader threw it, breathing even more heavy with shocking shoulders.

  “Yes, throw it,” the Borg Queen muttered. “Otherwise we’ll all stop wondering how you keep winning the golf tournament. Every. Single. Year.”

  She spat the last words like venom on silk.

  “People, please” Vic tried. “The agenda?”

  ***

  “Well fellas, let’s just try to go through point one and see from there, alright?” Vic Chaos clapped his tiny hands. “We’re all among friends here.”

  “Yes,” Scar said to Batman, voice thick with faux sympathy. “All kindred spirits.”

  Mr. Gold chuckled, razor-sharp.

  “Point one,” Vic said, still wondering why the cookies never worked. “Is Reralt of Givia evil or not?”

  “Well, he checks some boxes, right?” Gold offered with that smile of a hidden agenda. “Limitless wealth. Pays others to do the dirty work…”

  “What does being rich have to do with anything?” Batman immediately flared.

  “Oh yes,” Gold shot back. “Because you are so good with consequences. You always think about what happens after, don’t you?”

  Everyone laughed.

  Batman did not.

  “He refuses to fulfill the prophecy,” the Borg Queen murmured. “That’s some kind of evil. Like refusing your faith.”

  “How does a machine like you believe in faith?” Scar couldn’t help but notice.

  “Cyborg,” the queen said. “just like them” Pointing at Darth Vader and Dr Doom.

  “I am not a cyborg, I’m just covered in metal.” Dr Doom raised two hands in the air as an apology.

  “Yess, Precious is more of a Cosplayer” Gollum teased.

  “Ahhhh-haaa, a wannabe” Darth Vader stoked the fire up.

  “But he doesn’t want to do it because the gods keep screwing everything up,” Gold replied to the original question — for once, trying to avoid mayhem. Or well maybe delay it for maximum results.

  “So… denying destiny to do good?” echoed the metallic voice from the man in armor. “That’s classic superhero behavior.”

  Gollum shrieked with delight.

  “Marvellous heroes, yessss,” he hissed mockingly, shooting a glance at the armored man. “All flat! Like soggy fish!”

  He clawed the air with gnarled fingers. “We wants layers, juicy layers! Thick with wickedness! Evil needs meat, precious! Meat on its bones!”

  A few villains chuckled.

  Dr. Doom was looking quetionably to its sides.

  Mr. Gold leaned over and whispered to Doom, “Still a better origin story than ninety percent of your extended universe.”

  Doom folded his arms. The mask hid the pout — but everyone knew.

  “It’s a bit like if it’s your destiny,” the Borg Queen chuckled, “to rule and fail to kill a small child.”

  Voldemort and Scar exchanged a long, meaningful look. Not sure who she meant but still insulting enough.

  The Queen laughed — a cold, computerized buzz that froze circuits.

  “Jeez Louise, fellas — like one minute?” Vic tried one last time. But even he knew it was doomed.

  Batman threw his cookie to the Queen.

  She ducked too late; the cookie crumbled into her wires. “That will take ages to clean aga - aga - aga.” With diminished hand eye coordination, she threw a retaliatory tea cup. It missed Batman completely instead went straight to Scar, delighted he caught it, threw it to Voldemort then hit Dr Doom with a heavy paw.

  Darth Vader took Gollum and flung him towards Voldemort.

  Straight in the face.

  “Me gots your nose,” a bloodied Gollum laughed.

  Then the punches came.

  Batman, of course, threw the first.

  ***

  A knock on the door made the brawl stop, a man in a buttoned down shirt peaked his head around.

  “Thank you for choosing the Airport Hilton Hotel as your meeting spot.”

  All were watching him frozen in their brawl.

  “All okay on coffee, tea and condiments?”

  “Were fine thank you” Vic answered, glad the fight stopped, perhaps they could actually start on the agenda now.

  Maleficent entered, immediately after the man exactly fifteen minutes late. She looked around at the smoldering bar fight and nodded once.

  “Of course,” she said, smiling heavily, brushing ash from her robes and taking her seat.

  She glanced down.

  “Who took a bite out of my cookie?” she demanded. “And why does mine only have one chocolate chip?”

  “Haaa... aaah,” the Breather wheezed. “We just wanted to help you lose that last twenty pounds. Hahaha.”

  “You’re late — were you stuck at the McDrive again?” the Borg Queen added, voice glitching.

  “Couldn’t find a cab your size?” Scar offered.

  A fireball consumed the table before the next insult could land.

  The meeting was officially adjourned.

  Maleficent swept toward the door, then paused, turned back, plucked her cookie from the ashes, and left without another word.

  ***

  On seat eleven, sat with a big smile, the one they called Peacemaker.

  Red shirt. Silver helmet. A dove on the front.

  He was grinning. He knew they were all pretending not to see him — but he had been invited. That mattered.

  Still, they could’ve left him a cookie.

  Now he felt awkward. Obligated, even. So he took a bite of the cookie next to him Apparently the seat of the Woman in Black.

  Just a little one. Just enough to feel like he belonged.

  On second thought… Maybe this villain meeting wasn’t the best way to bring peace.

  But sometimes peace required a little chaos.

  And anyway, he really liked Reralt.

  He’d promised — to some guy in red and black, that he’d at least try to help the kid out.

  Besides, together with that deadpool and that strange bending robot they were starting a fanclub.

  ***

  Cookies for evil, cookies for good,

  Cookies for lions who do what they should.

  Cookies for robots with data to spare,

  Cookies for villains who still have some hair.

  One chip, two chip, none if you’re mean,

  Peace is a pastry, and chocolate is queen.

  *For those people:

  Vic chaos - South park universe (Butters)

  Batman - DC universe

  Mr. Gold - Once upon a time universe

  Dr. Doom - Marvel universe

  Lord Voldemort - Harry Potter universe

  Darth Vader - Star Wars

  The Borg Queen - Star Trek

  Malifecent - Disney

  Scar - The lion king

  Peacemaker - DC Universe