The Supervillain Field Manual

by King Oblivion, Ph. D.

  The letter would always include some sort of threat, like: “If you don’t print this in tomorrow’s paper, I’ll start taking everyone’s mustache. No mustache will remain on any lip!” Men in power loved their mustaches back then, so the editors would print the letter just like clockwork. And just like that, you’d be an overnight sensation. Quite literally, in one night, you’d have everyone in the city talking about you while taking out facial-hair insurance policies or closing their for-certain-doomed men’s groomeries.

  Obviously, things don’t work like that anymore. People nowadays are quite cavalier about their facial hair. Also, most don’t really read newspapers, like they don’t watch the news. They just get update chimes on their smartphones (and there’s got to be a takeover plan for that somewhere), but that doesn’t mean an open letter won’t work anymore. You just have to send it to more places than before. Start with all your local news websites, maybe some places that cover local sports or needlepoint or foot fetish porn. People live in their own little worlds now. And while you’re at it, post it to some forums. Get a Tumblr. Draw up some Sonic the Hedgehog fan art to attract a horde of followers, and then hit them up with the letter.

  Of course, the threat has to be updated, too. People love their tattoos. Maybe tell everyone you’ll steal their tattoos and replace them with your name. Actually, that’s pretty clever. And that gets your name out there in another way! You guys, I am pretty smart.*

  Write Your Name Somewhere Visible to Everyone

  Remember that scenario I was talking about a minute or two ago; the one where you were going to steal the bank vault with a helicopter and then open it with acid? That plan would go from a dud to a stud with one simple change: Instead of dripping the acid all over some colonial, founding city document, pour it out on the city’s main public square and spell out your name. Bam! You just put a huge, melty period on a heist well done.

  Of course, it doesn’t have to be acid or the public square. Skywrite it if you’re into gimmicky stuff like that. You could also take over the city’s power grid and light up every building so that they spell out your name, and maybe add a quick message about how today you own their electricity, but tomorrow you’ll have access to the switch that controls their very lives. That’s got a nice ring to it. If you want to get really creative, seize the Chef Boyardee® soup factory—a pretty sweet spot for a hideout, anyway—and make it so the only pasta letters it produces are the ones in your name. It’s a little more cryptic than some might prefer, but you can’t help but admire* the moxie it would take.

  The one place you probably want to avoid melting or drilling or carving your name into would be the moon. It would certainly be a visible place to stick your moniker, but I mean, come on, it’s been done . . . to death. (Literally. I know a guy who died up there trying to blast his name into a crater. He was a wild guy. Remind me to tell you about him if I ever meet you in person, which I wont.)

  Relay Your Message through a Superhero

  Superheroes are documented blabbermouths. They can’t help but chatter about who they’ve fought recently and how much good they’re doing for the world and blah blah blah. That galling habit is something you can use to your advantage.

  Plan one of your early devious exploits so that it will attract the attention of a superhero. One way to guarantee that one of these fools will show up is to put his or her significant other in imminent danger or threaten the bus the hero’s great aunt rides home every afternoon. It’s really easy to make that happen if you have a local superhero with a well-known “secret” identity, as many of them do.* If somehow the superhero of your choice has been cautious enough to keep their true identity a secret, just cause a little bit of mayhem at say, a parade. Someone the superhero loves is bound to be there, and the Law of Coincidences† dictates that the superhero will, too.

  Then, during your fight, the superhero is pretty likely to ask, “Who are you anyway?” That’s when you tell them, “Let the world know that I am ______ !” They’ll do it. They’ll do anything you say. They’re so gullible. (They’ll probably hit you a lot too, so just be aware of that.)

  Leave a Calling Card

  Following your first few heists, kidnappings, rampages, or whatever you opt to do, you may want to consider dropping something at the scene to clue the local authorities and/or superheroes that you’re a force to be reckoned with. That something could be a literal card. Seriously! It could be just a regular old business card or maybe a piece of paper that’s been dipped in some sort of psychotropic substance and makes whoever touches it think about nothing but you and how terrifying you are for a few hours. That would be rather effective.

  Tat said, lots of things could be used as calling cards. It’s a bit of a cliché, but it’s pretty fun to leave behind cryptic clues leading to your next master crime in the form of riddles, puzzle boxes, or childlike crayon drawings. For this to work, it’s pretty important that you make sure the investigators who are going to be picking this stuff up aren’t complete dolts. Otherwise, they won’t notice or they’ll think a kid who loves word-finders showed up and made a bunch of marks on the wall right after someone stole all the billion-dollar art paintings with ultra-rare liquid rubies. They also have to be willing to play along in your cat-and-mouse game. Some investigators look for and find real evidence—like DNA and whatnot—and ignore the cryptic clues. Avoid those people if this is what you’re going to go for.

  If you’re a particularly sadistic individual or your power is that you can regenerate your body parts, you could also leave behind a limb or two. If they’re your own, the forensics experts will test the DNA and find you (though, again, they’ll probably only be able to dig up your birth name). If they’re someone else’s, you’re going to have to thumbtack a note to them or something. You know what? The smart thing would be to do things the easy way and use some Postits™, no matter whose body parts they are.

  WORST PRACTICE IN ACTION: Dr. Doom Introduces Himself

  In his first encounter with the meddlesome freaks in the Fantastic Four, supervillain master Victor Von Doom threw a net over the team’s headquarters at the Baxter Building, took the Invisible Woman hostage, and sent the other three back to Blackbeard times. That’s a terrific, Byzantine, and crazy opening plan, but the true beauty is how quickly he was able to make an impression. The net, along with the loudspeaker announcement of his arrival, clued old college rival, Mr. Fantastic, into who Doom was immediately.

  Teaching Moment: Choosing an arch nemesis who was an old friend and/or competitor during your younger days means you can use automatic shorthand when introducing yourself. All you have to do is make sure your old college roommate becomes a superhero. Throw him or her into some chemicals to try to make this happen.

  Take over a Broadcast Station

  As I noted before, radio and television don’t have the universal pull they once did, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile to use those media outlets to your advantage. People still watch tons of garbage, after all. Why not make it your garbage?

  Here’s a clever way to go about it: During one of your early capers, have your henchmen infiltrate a local TV or radio station, incapacitating the crew—they often work on shoestrings anyway—and get to the control room. Then have them play a pre-made tape of you narrating exactly what you’re doing on the job as its happening. It’ll be so theatrical that people won’t even know how to contain themselves! Just be careful to make your gleeful discussion about the monster you’re attacking the city with or whatever is you’re doing vague enough that the authorities don’t step right out of the police stations and hero caves to find you instantaneously; make sure to find a good hiding place. Along those same lines, don’t record the video at a recognizable place, like, say, your aunt’s house. They’ll know it was your aunt’s house.

  Nationally syndicated TV programs can get you even wider attention.

  You might be thinking right now,* “This is the twenty-first century. Rather than taking ov
er some stodgy old TV station tower or satellite, why not put this selfsame video on YouTube and let people watch it there?” Here’s why not: Because YouTube isn’t live, you pus bucket. You can’t just let people watch your as-it-happens account of your villainous exploits whenever they want. Upload it to YouTube afterward, sure, but the real deal has to air live.†

  Force Someone to Write a Song or Make a Film About You

  Up-and-coming bands and aspiring filmmakers are always looking for their big break. Give them one! Threaten to break their pelvis if they don’t immortalize you and your evil, evil deeds in a song or film. People eat that kind of shit right up, and, who knows, they may even admire you because you were in a movie. Pick whatever genre you want: horror, black metal, action, hip-hop, romantic comedy, K-pop. It doesn’t matter, as long as people see or hear it.

  Of course, the more experienced and popular the musician and directors are, the more likely they’ll be to have some traction. . . . Just remember that it’ll to be a lot harder to kidnap Steven Spielberg or Coldplay out of their beds, since I already have them here with me.

  Brainwash Everyone into Believing You are the Greatest Possible Threat to Their Safety

  If you can take over a satellite, which we already discussed above, this shouldn’t be too terribly difficult for you to pull off. Whatever you choose to do, remember: Get your name out there. The important name; your supervillain one. How people address you and whether they know you at all will make all the difference when it comes to determining whether you can build a reputation as a true supervillain or end up being just some weirdo jerk.

  A Semi-Legitimate Method: Mastering the Art of the Interview

  All the techniques for putting your name of the tip of everyone’s tongue listed elsewhere in this chapter are . . . well . . . you might call them rather, forward. Forceful, even. I tend to think that supervillians should be aggressive when it comes to making one’s mark with that ever-important opening statement. However, not all supervillains can come out of the gate at quite the full gallop. Some, for the sake of their all-important plans, must give the world the initial impression that they are legitimate businessmen (more on this in Chapter 12), or at least, not complete psychopaths. Those types can’t go seizing radio stations or rearranging highways to spell out a message of contempt for everyone else.

  No, those supervillains have to go for a more traditional way of making themselves known. . . . A method that can go awry easily and without warning. That’s right, they have to do media interviews. How does one maintain his or her evil credibility while also presenting a law-abiding veneer? It’s not easy, but it’s doable. Follow these guidelines and you might pull it off.

  1. Smile

  Just keep smiling. Smile the whole time. Even if it’s a radio interview. The listeners will hear the smile in your voice. Some people might think your smile is creepy, but that’s better than them seeing a scowl or a grimace and looking into the very heart of hatred. Do try to normal-up your smile as much as possible, though. Don’t lean your head forward and do one of those Jack Nicholson, Shining smiles. Actually, that’s a pretty useful rule of thumb in general, if you want to look not-evil. Don’t look like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

  2. Wear Nice, Non-Supervillain Clothes

  Cloaks, masks, and goggles don’t go over so well on TV. Stick with a nice business suit. (Some villains actually wear suits as their costumes, which is fine. This will be easy for them.) Maybe a casual skirt or khakis. You can change right after. Try not to fidget. You have to look like these clothes are something you’d want to wear for some godforsaken reason.

  3. Deny

  Deny everything. “According to sources,” the interviewer might start, “your company’s factories are making members of your very own board of directors into gargoyles!” Or maybe they’ll ask something like, “Any truth to the rumors that you’re working with a robot from space bent on the enslavement of most of humanity?” Respond with, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard this word, ‘gargoyles,’” or, “You must have your facts wrong. There is no such thing as robots. Or for that matter, space.”

  4. Talk up Your Charity Work

  You don’t actually have to do any. You should start your own front-charity to launder your money through (more on this in Chapter 12 also), however, and constantly mention how much work you do with it in the interview. In fact, start every sentence like this: “With my charity work, my favorite type of coffee is iced,” or, “With my charity work, I don’t know the first thing about how the city’s water got turned into catnip.”

  5. Avoid Threatening to Kill Anyone

  I know, I know. This is extremely unfair. But these people often take this stuff really seriously, and vowing excruciating death for your archnemesis usually gets them all flustered.

  6. Avoid Killing Anyone

  Same deal. Interviewers go nuts and completely freak out about this like it’s a big deal.

  7. Make Sure Your Henchmen Are Far Away

  They are going to completely botch everything right up if they are even in the same building. Send the dumb shits to Dave & Busters® or wherever it is they like to go.

  * Lots of supervillains get their start this way; in the days before they are able to pull together the money for some grade-A equipment. There’s no shame in it, though you should be aware that if I see you in a grandma-made outfit, I will shame the ever-living hell out of you.

  * The latter example here is a real-life one, pulled off in the mid-80s by close friend and veteran supervillain, Lady Ladybug Bug.

  ** This is called Osborn-style.

  * You can agree. You must agree.

  * Don’t take this as some sort of guarantee that I will admire you if you manage to pull any of this stuff off. Odds are I will never admire you. It’s nothing personal, but compared to me, you’re trash. Understood?

  * Seriously, superheroes are basically terrible at keeping their masks on.

  † Anything that can happen to facilitate a superhero/supervillain fight will happen, no matter how unlikely or improbable.

  * Of course you are. I know you are. I own your thoughts, remember?

  † Any more questions like that, and I’ll be uploading you to YouTube . . . in one of those cat videos. You’ll be the box the cat tries to jump into. Trust me, I can make this happen.

  Chapter 2

  When You Lose

  Listen, I’m going to tell you something you’re probably not going to want to hear right now. You should definitely sit down for this. If you’re reading this on a treadmill or an elliptical machine, just sit right down on the apparatus. You need to sit down that badly.

  Okay, here it is: I have said previously, on more than one occasion, that my supervillain organization, the International Society of Supervillains, had all but wiped superheroes off the face of the planet. That was a lie;* a half-truth, anyway. The truth—and savor this, because you’re not going to get this out of me very often†—is that there are lots of superheroes out there in the world; probably one or more in every city . . . some even in small little towns. Seriously, they’re like insects.

  What we have done is clearly and forcefully broken the back of the organization known as the League of Right Rightness, largely neutralizing the superhero network that grew to power during the twentieth century. Even with that all-important work done, thousands of independent vigilantes with notions that they somehow know better than the rest of us what’s “right” and how to uphold the law try every day to get all up in our business.

  Max didn’t get away in time.

  And while you’re sitting down, I’ll offer another little tidbit you’re probably not going to like: A lot of times, those meddling muscle people, with their big smiles and hair arranged into letters, well . . . they win. Not because they’re superior—anything but! It’s because they have it easier. Think about it. You spend months, maybe years, crafting a scheme that requires every single little thing to go exa
ctly as you planned. You choreograph and you orchestrate, you ensure your machinations run like clockwork. It’s extremely tough and time consuming. And what do they do? They see on the news that you sabotaged a local utility, fly out the window to your location, and hit you until you can’t stand up anymore.

  How is that fair? They’re always on offense, but it’s not like you’re just playing defense. You’re on defense, you’re playing offense, you’re coaching, you’re building the arena, you’re the entire grounds crew, and also have to make sure that you cover the spread. To mix a few metaphors, the deck is stacked against you.

  Supervillain FAQ: Should I be a mentor?

  Everyone reaches a point in their career where they wonder if it isn’t time to start sharing the gifts of their wisdom with the younger and less experienced practitioners of their profession.* And while that inclination is awfully noble—which therefore makes it reprehensible—it’s also astonishingly egotistical, and I can definitely get behind that.

  That’s why I took the route of writing these instructional books to rise the tide and therefore all the ships within supervillainy.** Others don’t have the ability to threaten the families of every employee at a New York publishing house with poison, though, and have to settle for just teaching all their tricks to one lucky student.