Commander Liberty, the leader of the Hero Coalition, eyed the two superheroes across the table and they stared back at him. They were in the Hall of Conscientious Dealings, or, as it was known to the data entry company sharing the same office building, the fifth-floor conference room. In front of Liberty was a clipboard and a tape recorder. To his right was the company attorney, and to his left was the Human Relations rep, Rhonda.
“Thank you both for coming,” said Commander Liberty to the two heroes. “I have gathered you here for a very important matter. This will be a difficult conversation, but it has come to my knowledge that one of you newcomers is a traitor working for the evil Doctor Malectus.”
The superheroes were silent.
“My objective today is to discover whether the double-crosser is you, Mr. …” The leader looked at his clipboard. “American Way …”
The American Way stared straight ahead, his American flag cape flapping in the breeze even though there was no breeze in the conference room.
“Or you …” Commander Liberty glanced back the the clipboard. He squinted at it. He looked back up at the second man. “Doomsberg? Is that your real name?”
“Doomsberg is a family name,” droned Doomsberg from under his purple cloak, running his leather gloved hand over his pet, a rabid armadillo named Crowley.
“I see…” Liberty set the clipboard back down. “Do you have a last name, or is it just ‘Doomsberg’?”
“My full name is Dr. Dracula Battlestar Doomsberg the 666th. But I just go by Doomsberg.”
The American Way looked at Commander Liberty helplessly. “Right …,” said Commander Liberty. “Just Doomsberg. Like Madonna.”
Doomsberg watched him silently with a venomous gaze, while Crowley hissed and foamed at the mouth. Then Doomsberg said, “Like Madonna.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Doomsberg, despite the bias I already have toward your name and mannerisms.”
“Thank you,” growled Doomsberg, carving a pentagram into his arm.
“Now I’m going to ask a series of questions, and I want you both to answer with the first thing that comes to your minds, starting with the American Way and following with Doomsberg immediately after. Don’t think about your answers, just come right out and say them. Understand?”
Both nodded.
“Good. First question: What is your battlecry?”
Instantly, The American Way held his fist to his armored chest and said, “’Beware, villains! You are in the home of the brave!’”
Doomsberg followed up with, “’They can’t kill us if we kill them in their sleep.’”
Commander Liberty’s eyes lingered on Doomsberg. He wrote the two answers down almost reluctantly. “And what are your super powers?”
The American Way said, “Super speed, telepathy, mild weather manipulation.”
Doomsberg said, “Soul-sucking, voodoo, wild leather domination.”
Commander Liberty wrote these down as well, and as he did, his brow furrowed in an unheroic manner. This type of thing went on for the next fourteen questions, and with each question Commander Liberty grew more and more agitated.
Commander Liberty: “What is your greatest strength?”
The American Way: “My patriotism.”
Doomsberg: “My high tolerance for self-inflicted pain.”
Commander Liberty: “Greatest weakness?”
The American Way: “Terrorism.”
Doomsberg: “Kindness and love.”
Commander Liberty: “Favorite pastime?”
The American Way: “Baseball after Sunday service.”
Doomsberg: “Terrorism.”
Commander Liberty cleared his throat and said, “Doomsberg, you realize it’s highly unconventional for a superhero to list ‘terrorism’ as his favorite pastime.”
“I can’t help what I love,” Doomsberg responded. Then he clutched his chest and shouted, “No! Love! My greatest weakness!”
Commander Liberty turned to the attorney, and they both nodded to each other. He sighed and said, “I think I’ve heard enough. It’s obvious that you’re the traitor, Doomsberg. Like, really obvious. You were sent here by Doctor Malectus to discover our secrets and take us down from the inside, which is a breach of your contract.”
“It’s not true,” hissed Doomsberg. “I swear to the great Lord Anubis that I would never—”
“You’re just digging yourself deeper, Doomsberg. If you will please come with me so I can imprison you until the end of time, that would be great.”
As Commander Liberty escorted the sulking Doomsberg and his frothing armadillo out of the room, and the attorney and HR rep followed them, The American Way watched, flustered. When the door closed he sat alone in the air-conditioned room, listening to his flapping cape and pondering the weird event he’d just experienced. Huh, he thought. Life sure has its way of surprising you.
He then used his telepathy to broadcast the message: The obstacle has been dealt with, Master. The plan is moving into its next phase.
Excellent work, Malectus beamed back. Soon, the Hero Coalition will be no more.
