Eddison and Krane Underworld Auction Rooms, New York
The auctioneer looked around the room at the assembled ranks of scum and villainy all bidding on Lot 227 before raising his gable and slamming it down onto the desk. "Sold to the dapper gentleman near the back!" He stated with authority. "Now onto Lot 228, the Scorpion Battlesuit."
Most of the attention went back to him, but the 'dapper gentleman' dressed in a purple smoking jacket, waistcoat, top hat and pinstripe trousers slipped out the back and into the adjoining chamber and waited in the bar area for his purchased items to be bought to him.
"Who the hell does he think he is?" A man dressed in jeans and a hoody hissed as he and his partner, a white haired man in a suit wearing an eyepatch sidled up to the bar. "I tell you Cross, Hyde is getting more and more reckless. I lost ten litres of fear-gas because he led Spiderman and the cops to one of my labs."
"Hyde will be Hyde." Cross shrugged as the bartender slipped him a gin and tonic, and his companion a beer. "Besides Alan, there are many who are in a worse position then you." He added snidely as he pointed to the dapper gentleman.
"Are you referring to me?" The dapper gentlemen asked. "Windsor Glastonbury at your service my fine fellows." He added smartly as Cross and Alan tried to stifle their laughter at the complete ridiculousness of the man standing before them. "You may know me as the formidable Chairman." He added, his words pushing the two men in front of him into fits of laughter.
"Let me guess you got your powers from a radioactive chair bite." Alan cackled... "Or from a secret order of monks who throw chairs." He added, as he, Cross and a few other villains erupted into a cacophony of laughter.
"Actually I invented a gun that turns people into chairs." The Chairman stated with a wry laugh. "I almost defeated Spiderman."
"Chair...Gun..." Alan cackled as he began to choke from the amount of laughter.
"Let me guess you had him sitting pretty and then he webbed you up." Cross hissed, his words barely audible over the choking guffaw of Alan.
"Actually I was distracted by some children who blocked my weapon with their accursed Hostess Twinkies Snack Cake!" The Chairman hissed, his fist clenched in anger. "Curse that golden sponge cake, if not for that I wouldn't have been trapped as a chair for the next ten years in jail!" In response Alan fell to the floor rolling in laughter while Cross doubled over, his body shuddering with mirth.
"Crossfire, Mr Fear don't you think you've had enough?" An authoritative voice asked as a silver haired gentleman dressed in an orange tunic overlaid across blue chainmail asked.
"Hardly Kingsley." Crossfire replied. "This guy keeps on giving us material like an idiot."
"Well I have business with him so leave." Kingsley ordered in a voice that was calm but also held a tinge of malice, one that stopped the laughter around him. Heading his advice, Crossfire and Mr Fear left as soon as they could, their half-finished drinks left on the bar, due to the fear of the man who had just arrived. "May I congratulate you on your purchase of the ownership rights for the Sinister Six, Mr Glastonbury?" He asked in what seemed like an affable tone, albeit one that was covering a volcanic rage.
"What?" The Chairman spat as he leafed through the auction catalogue. "No Sir, Lot 227 consisted of 'the Chair that walks like a Man', an antique chair brought to life by the lovely Wanda Maximoff, not some naming rights."
"I believe that was sold last week Mr Glastonbury!" Kingsly hissed as he snatched the catalogue away from the Chairman. "It's why I was willing to pay over two million dollars for the rites, you think anyone would spend that kind of money on a chair, even an enchanted walking one?"
"I would..." The Chairman mumbled.
"Well then you're a fool!" Kingsley snapped. "Now I want those rites and you're going to hand them over to me. I will even pay you the equivalent of my last offer on the auction floor as a sign of goodwill."
"No." The Chairman mumbled, as he saw one of the bailiff droids approach the bar, a case handcuffed to its right arm.
"What did you say?" Kingsley hissed in a voice that no longer disguised the malice he was feeling.
"I said no, I bought it so I'll use it." The Chairman replied in a voice that he hoped sounded brave. Any notions of further bravery were extinguished when Kingsley ignited a burning sword and grabbed the bailiff’s arm, the weapon slicing through the droid's arm, the case sliding off onto the floor.
"I'll take this." Kingsley cackled as he picked up the case, only for the sounds of multiple safeties being removed from guns around the room sounded.
"You know the rules Roderick." A voice announced over a PA system.
"This isn't over." Kingsley hissed as the bailiffs escorted him out of the building. "I will have that deed..." He sneered as he was led away, "...and your head Chairman!!"
The Bar with No Name, New York Branch
The next day had been tense for the Chairman thanks to the threat his rival had issued. In an attempt to outfox Kingsley, he'd sent twelve decoy packages to various locations across the continental USA, their contents roughly the same weight and consistency of the documents that declared him the owner of the rights to the Sinister Six name. Next the Chairman had taken the risky step of going down to the 'Bar with No Name' to meet a contact with closer ties to the criminal underworld than he.
"So it's like that." The Chairman announced sadly to the frozen humanoid figure sitting across the table from him, a martini frozen in his hand. "This Sinister Six thing is why I came to you Icemaster, I need to know who I can trust. Besides you I mean, I mean we went to get help for our mutual addiction together."
"Please don't mention that here." Icemaster silently pleaded as a villain dressed in silver armour walked past. "I get enough teasing for that already."
"Evening 'Twinkie'." The man in silver grunted, a mean smile on his face.
"Bite me Stiltman!" Icemaster snapped at his verbal abuser, before turning back to the Chairman an angry look on his face. "Look fellow, just hand over the deed to the Hobgoblin, it's the smart thing to do in the long run, mostly because it stops him from hunting you down and savagely beating you to death."
"I came for the aid of the greatest of our little circle, mot to be told to quit by some coward!" The Chairman snarled as he drew a normal looking compact sub-machine gun from the pocket of his blazer, his actions causing the other patrons to look up briefly from their drinks. "You have a choice, help me or spend the next ten years as a chair!" He added as he levelled his weapon at the frozen villain.
"You don't understand." Icemaster whispered as he stared cross-eyed at the chair-gun pointed at his face. "The Hobgoblin owns a lot of these guys. Sure they would jump at the chance to be in the Sinister Six, but it would involve killing you and ransacking your home until they found the deed and returned it to Kingsley. Picking them to help you is like Ceaser handing Brutus and Cassius a knife."
"So where can I find men and women I can trust?" The Chairman asked as a man dressed in an orange breastplate and green trousers rested his hand on some kind of laser pistol, his ears straining to hear the pair's conversation.
"You need help. The Hobgoblin will rip you apart when he catches you." Icemaster sighed as he slipped a business card over the table. "Quit the habit before it consumes you." He added as the Chairman placed his chair-gun back into his bag before pulling out two foil packets, one green and one red, and placing them on the table between them.
"You're a good friend." The Chairman announced as he got up from his chair "For your advice." He added as a bead of sweat (or possibly meltwater) ran down the Icemaster's forehead.
"B...b...both flavours." Icemaster stammered as the Chairman left the bar and the man who had been watching the pair of them walked over. "I...I tried Melter, but he didn't tell me where the deed is." He yammered as the Melter ripped the green packet open and shoved the fruit cake into the Icemaster's mouth.
"Tastes good right?" The Melter asked, his victim nodding as he chewed the desert. "Thought so." The Melter snorted as he drew his gun and melted the Icemaster's stomach open, a torrent of meltwater dripping onto the floor. "Next time it's ya jaw so you can't chew this." The Melter cackles as he opened the second foil packet the Chairman had left him.
"He's going to our old support group!!" Icemaster cried, a look of desperation and disgust at what he was doing spread across his frozen features. "Now please...please just give it back!" He begged, only for a wicked grin to spread across the Melter's face as he crushed the pie in his hand, dollops of cream dropping to the floor and mixing with the puddle of meltwater already there. Screaming in desperation Icemaster dropped to his knees in despair, all to the chorus of 'Twinkie' as the rest of the patrons laughed at the sheer patheticness of what they were witnessing.
Mom and Pop’s Pancake Plaza (After Hours)
“We are all here to address a mutual problem involving those accursed snack cakes.” The giant mouth with tiny little hands on its bottom lip stated. “Some of us were consumed by anger, others by the sheer addictive nature of the instrument of out destruction. Alone we faced an enemy too hard for any one of use to defeat, but together we are strong enough to beat anything. Mad Magician, I believe it is your turn to tell us about your problems.”
“Thank you Big Mouth.” A foot tall green frog sitting on a plastic chair croaked. “I hated those Hostess Twinkies, especially those filled with golden sponge cake. I got so angry that I embraced the dark arts to destroy them, unfortunately the Hulk stopped me in the middle of my mission. After I completed my jail sentence I tried again, but the spell I used last time backfired and turned me into a frog.”
“Magician, can’t you see that the anger you felt was unfounded. You were consumed by hatred for something trivial and it ended up destroying your life.” The Big Mouth sighed, his words echoed by the rest of the villains sitting in the circle. “Does anyone have anything to add about the Mad Magician’s predicament?”
“I do.” A man dressed like a construction work grunted. “You need to embrace the good things in your life, the ones that make you happy.”
“Good advice Homewrecker.” The Big Mouth commended as he turned to a man dressed in a blue robe. “Simon some of your enlightened words would be appreciated.”
“Life is finite, devoting it to hate will shorten your time, but one must be considerate of how doing just the things you like will lead to addiction.” Simon the Swami droned. “Life must be taken in moderation to truly enjoy it.”
“The logic computes.” A boxy green armoured figure in the corner buzzed. “The Human Computer…”
“Is a loser!” A voice from the top of the stairs snorted. “At least that’s what the rest of the underworld thinks we are.” It added as the Chairman descended into the help groups midst. “Now tell me who’s ready to step up to the big leauges. Who wants to be part of the new Sinister Six?”