He stood there, stoic, staring at the man in the mirror. He was ready. He was primed. He was a killer. There was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. There was no one he couldn’t overcome. 

He repeated these phrases over and over, building up his mental fortifications for the day ahead. He was an indestructible tank; nothing could stop his iron will; he was…the doorbell rang, interrupting his preparations. 

He sighed and made his way toward the front door of his small flat. It was a modest flat for a would-be evil megalomaniac corporate tycoon. It was a modest flat by any stretch of the imagination. He hadn’t yet started making money. He was still focused on building a brand and getting his name out there. He hoped the sponsors were only around the corner, but you could never be sure about these things. He wasn’t yet popular enough to start selling merchandise either, so for now, he walked out of his small bedroom and along the short corridor towards his front door to receive what he assumed was a parcel delivery. 

He couldn’t remember what he’d ordered, but he had gone a little mad after his interview with the Villains and Heroes Magazine had gone public. It was an excellent advert for him and his brand, and he’d made a few purchases hoping to reinforce his image. As he approached the door, the doorbell went off again, and someone rudely began violently assaulting the door. These delivery drivers were paid by the number of deliveries they completed in a day, but even so, there was no call for rudeness. He’d often thought they had signed up for the worst servitude. If they didn’t make enough deliveries, they would only have themselves to blame; they didn’t even have the mild pleasure of complaining about a superior or a devious overlord.

He unlocked his latch, and before he could open the door, it slammed back towards him, knocking him onto his backside. “Oof”, he cried before springing to his feet with a face like thunder. He opened his mouth, ready to unleash all manner of expletives and threats, but was cut short by the presence of a blaster pointing at his head. He reevaluated his righteous indignation. 

Two hulking Ogres were standing at his front door. They wore finely tailored suits and had lanyards wrapped around their necks with employee badges dangling onto their muscled chests. “My name is Jeremy, and this is Olgart.” The words were clanked out in a sort of mechanical fashion. Ogres natively communicated with each other by banging their tusks together. Typically, they would learn to speak the human language when they were a little older, but this gave them a bit of a clanking accent as they weren’t great at stopping their tusks from constantly banging together when they talked. The other Ogre, seeing the discomfort his partner’s voice had made, grinned. 

Jeremy continued, “Are you Mr Rudolph Rendreary?”

Rudolph was shocked. He’d done his best to hide his surname from the public; it wasn’t exactly an Alpha type of name. He’d win no intimidation awards with a surname like Rendreary. Thinking about the setbacks this might cause to his branding, he took a deep breath and indignantly replied, “I am Rudolph the Maniac! How dare you intrude on me!”

Jeremy just continued in his clanking accent, “Apologies, Mr..erm.. Maniac, we work for Grim Industries, and our CEO has taken a special interest in you.” The other Ogre chuckled quietly. Rudolph frowned. Two weeks ago, if Grim had taken a special interest in him, he would have been exhilarated; now that he’d actually caught the attention of Grim Industries and there were two hulking goliaths standing at his front door, he wasn’t too sure his aspirations were well founded. He wondered whether he could covertly pull his phone out of his pocket and start filming this interaction. If nothing else, it would make great social media content. 

He shrugged and decided he could respond to these grunts according to his brand, even without a camera. “If your corporate overlord wishes to speak to me, he can come of his own accord. I don’t speak to Grunts.” As soon as he said this, he realised he’d made a mistake. The Ogres were here in a professional capacity, and everything about them exuded professionalism. They were wearing well-tailored dark suits; they were clean, they’d made no direct threats, and other than that they were naturally intimidating; they seemed good-natured. The moment Rudolph had mentioned the word grunt, everything about their demeanour changed. 

“You see Jeremy!” said the Ogre named Olgart. “Despite the both of us having academic qualifications far exceeding this pathetic human, they still can’t look past our size.” There was a low hum coming from Jeremy’s tusks that sounded angry. Despite some trepidation, Rudolph decided he wouldn’t let these ogres intimidate him and used one of the catchphrases he’d been practising: “Be gone, beasts. I am Rudolph the Maniac; fear thy name and feel thy shame.” 

There was a moment where everything went quiet. Jeremy stopped the humming coming from his tusks. One of his prominent Ogre eyebrows raised itself. For a second, Rudolph wondered whether he held some unconscious prejudice against Ogres before a green fist came hurtling towards his face. There was a flash of white as his whole body was launched back. Lying flat on his back, he battled ferociously to stay conscious, but his treacherous head had given up. He just about heard one of the Ogres say to the other one, “he’s not much of a supervillain, is he? Come on, let’s drag him back to the boss.”