Rubble

    Doctor Blitzmann is barely alive when they find him. As they drag him from the ruins of his own workshop, he mutters a few choice words regarding Drow assassins and their mothers' fondness for mating with goats, before passing out.
    A few feet away, the rubble shifts. Ulrich groans as he claws himself up through crushed stone, splintered wood and shattered glass. He breaks the surface with a gasp of pain, throwing aside the body of a black-clad assassin. He staggers to his feet, surveying the scene. His throat is lined with dust.
    'Where is the Doctor?' he croaks.

Wrapping Up For The Day pt. 2

    As the bed disappeared into the floor with a hiss of pistons, adorable, bushy-tailed death flooded the room. Hundreds upon hundreds of genetically modified rodents poured over the shocked drow assassin. Steel teeth chewed through metal, cloth and flesh. Tiny, needle-like claws tore his eyes from their sockets. One of the squirrels chirped and tittered excitedly as it burst through the assassin's chest, painting the walls red with blood.
    He opened his mouth to scream, but before a single syllable could find its way past his lips, a trio of especially adorable and merciless squirrels forced their way down his throat.

Wrapping Up For The Day

    Doctor Blitzmann stretched and winced at the cracks and pops that erupted from his stiff back. It had been a long, productive day, and he was tired. He gathered his notes into a neat, little stack and tied it together with a length of string. Opening one of the many closets and drawers that lined the back room of his shop, he deposited the notes in front of the ones from yesterday.
    He walked through his store, snuffing out the candles as he went. He checked the locks on his front door; three deadbolts, two padlocks and a small keyhole were attached to it. Just to make sure, he had engraved a magical locking glyph of his own making into the metal-plated door.
    Content that his door was securely locked, he shuffled into his bedroom. To call it spartan would be an understatement. A thin mattress lay on a wooden frame and a single candle stood on a small, wooden table next to it. The flame sputtered as he lit it.
    He undressed, neatly folding his clothes and placing them on the table. He lay down on his back, naked except for his goggles and promptly fell asleep.

***

    The feel of cold steel against his throat jolted him awake. A dark figure loomed over him. He could see a pair of eyes glinting beneath the hood. The business-end of a narrow sword rested on his neck. 

    'We have you now, Blitzmann!' The figure said, his voice dripping contempt. 'Our vengeance is at hand!'

    'Oh,' Blitzmann said, relief evident in his voice, 'It's just another one of you guys. I was getting worried there for a second.'

    'Do not mock me, monster! Tonight you die by the hands of Undrek'Thoz!'

    'The problem is,' Blitzmann said, pulling the hidden lever behind his bed, 'None of you are prepared for the squirrels.'

Ulrich Bannon

    'My homeland.' Ulrich said, a shadow of a smile on his usually emotionless face. 'I'd almost forgotten what it looked like.' He looked back at his companion, waving him on. 'Come, doctor!'
    Blitzmann wiped the sweat from his brow as he clambered over the moss-covered rocks. He really wasn't meant for this type of terrain. His feet ached, his lungs burned and his mouth was dry. He made a mental note to take a second look at his Controlled Explosion Boots design. More control, less explosion, this time. But as he crested the top of the hill, he had to admit it was an impressive sight.
    Great, rolling plains with scattered islands of red moss covered the immense valley. Black mountains framed the horizon, snow-covered tips almost hidden in the clouds. The Morrowpeak Lions stood as they had for millennia, built by the gods of past.
    A peel of thunder rolled across the valley.
    'Do you hear?' Ulrich asked, peering into the sky. 'The mountains are forging the first breaths of war.'

Deckhands

    Hands clasped behind his back, Blitzmann marched resolutely back and forth before the three deckhands. With their backs pressed up against the ship's railing, they formed in a line that was not quite straight. Blitzmann shook his head. This pitiful rabble was not the courageous crew he'd had in mind.
    'Now!' He said, making the three jump. 'What have you got to say for yourselves?'
    The man on the left hesitantly raised his hand .
    'Yes! Jonesy!'
    'Wha' 'ave we go' t'say fer wha', cap'n?' He asked, his toothless mouth making his speech almost unintelligible.
    Blitzmann could hardly believe his ears. 'The state of the Blitzkrieg!' He shouted. 'The state of you lot! That state of the harpoons, catapults and cannons!'
    The man on the right raised his hand.
    'Roblins!'
    'We don't... We don't have any harpoons, captain. Or catapults. Or cannons.'
    Blitzmann leaned close, so their faces were just inches apart.
    'Exactly!' He hissed. 'How can you call yourself pirates when you don't have any weapons!?' He stepped back, looking the men in the eyes. 'Well?' he said expectantly.
    The man in the middle raised his hook.
    'Mathews!'
    'We don't, cap'n.'
    'You don't what?'
    'We don't call ourself pirates. You ordered us not to.'
    Blitzmann frowned. 'I did?'
    'Yes, cap'n. You ordered us to call ourselves "The Marvellous Blitzing Corsairs Mark Two".'
    'Oh. Right.' He stared blankly into the air for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought. His eyes grew vacant as he recalled his old crew. Good lads. And such warriors! He shook his head. 'What was I talking about?' The deckhands shrugged. 'Right. Well.' He waved his hand. 'Dismissed!'
    The three men ran off; Jonesy clambering into the crow's nest, Roblins trotting down to the hold and Mathews staggering about the deck on his two wooden legs, a mop in his one remaining hand.

Excuse

    'This ship has entirely too little weaponry.' Blitzmann said, shaking his head disapprovingly. 'Not a single harpoon, cannon or firehurler in sight.' He whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at a deckhand swabbing the deck. 'You!' he called.
    The man froze like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide and panicky.
    'A-aye, cap'n?'
    'What's your excuse for this travesty?'
    The deckhand knew better than to question the doctor's mad accusations. Best to just play along.
    'I'm a halfway-retarded ogre spawn scarcely worthy of the pathetic brain in my inferior skull?'
    Blitzmann blinked, taken slightly aback. 'Correct,' he said. 'Carry on.'

Paint

    'Make the letters big!' Blitzmann called. 'And swirly!'
    'Aye, aye, captain!'
    'And write it in gold!'
    'Aye, aye, captain!'
    'And make the last "G" look like a dragon!'
    'Aye, aye, captain!'
    Blitzmann stood with crossed arms at the ship's railing, looking down at the deckhand dangling from a jumble of ropes and planks six feet above the water. He held a delicate, wooden brush, carefully spelling out the ship's name on its side.
    'B. L. I. T. Z. K. R. I. E. G.' Blitzmann yelled. 'I recommend you get it right the first time! Unless you fancy getting turned into chum.''

Mount

    "I don't understand why you insist on using that ridiculous animal," Ulrich remarked. "A horse is faster, stronger and infinitely better suited for combat."
    "What you forget," Blitzmann said. "Is that horses are boring and camels are awesome. Genetically modified camels are doubly so."
    Blitzmann patted his trusty camel on its glorious mane of smooth, golden fur and sighed contentedly.
    "Truly, Richard, you are my greatest creation."
    Richard bleated happily and walked face first into the side of a building. After a moment's loaded silence, he bleated again, less happily.
    Ulrich raised an eyebrow.
    "Shut up," Blitzmann said. "Camels are awesome."

Paranoia

     'I'm telling you, Ulrich, my enemies are everywhere. Everything in here,' he jabbed Ulrich with a gloved finger. 'Literally every single thing in here, could be covered in poison.' 

     'I doubt that, Doc.'

     'Poison of the most lethal sort!' He insisted, grabbing a jar and brandishing it in Ulrich's face. 'Underdark Rattler extract!' He picked up a half-eaten chicken leg. 'Essence of beholder!' He grabbed a chair with both hands and lifted it over his head. 'CRIMSON DEATH POWDER!'

    'I think that Juniper girl made you paranoid.'

    'Paranoid?' he hissed. 'I'll show you paranoid!' 

    Ulrich sighed. 'I'd really rather you didn't.'

Poisoned

  

    His hands clawed desperately, snatching random vials and sending other crashing to the floor. He had to work fast. Faster than the poison coursing through his body. He banged his knee into the sharp metal edge of the table, but there was no stabbing lance of pain. He couldn't feel his legs. His arms were buzzing. His vision was almost gone. He was dying. He was outraged. No, he was beyond outraged. He was fucking furious.
    With gritted teeth, Blitzmann filled a syringe with six different kinds of adrenaline and pure liquid stubbornness and jabbed it straight into his struggling heart.
     

Leaving

    Juniper leaned forward, her face so close he could feel her breath. It smelled like roses.
    'Ready?' she whispered. Blitzmann didn't flinch as she planted a soft kiss on his thin lips.
    She smiled broadly, two rows of white teeth uncannily like those of a wolf's. She turned gracefully, black locks of hair caressing his face, and sauntered out the door. When it had shut after her, Blitzmann allowed himself to move. He put a hesitant finger to his lips. A smile crossed his usually rigid face. Perhaps he should go after her. Perha-
    His lips had gone numb.
    'What the fupoison.'

Explosion

  

    Juniper had expected violence. She had expected blood and a lost limb. She had not expected this. The axe bit into the drow's gut with a wet thud who took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth. She cringed and braced herself.
    'Wha-,' she began. Then the drow exploded with enough force to send Bloodfist crashing through the wall. Had it not been for the two-inch-thick barrier of solid steel between them, no doubt it would have done the same to her. Even so, the force of the explosion was horrifying. With a deafening roar, chunks of wood, iron and flesh rocketed across the room, painting the walls red. A piece of thigh landed between her and Blitzmann, spattering the doctor's white robes with blood. He didn't notice. Juniper turned her head and vomited violently.

*

    Blitzmann was a little disappointed. The explosion itself had been perfect. The subject was dead as could be. His assistant was being sick in the corner. All good, true, but the demon that stood before him was pathetic. He frowned down at the small, fat creature that was currently busy scratching its behind with a short, white claw.
    'You're pathetic,' he said.
    'Yeah,' it muttered.

Bloodfist

Image courtesy of Wizards of the Coast

    'Now, Mr. Fist,' Blitzmann called from behind the protective barrier, hands cupped around his mouth. 'I'd like you to pick up the axe.' 

    Bloodfist did so. The axe, though by no means small, looked positively tiny in his massive, dirty fist. He gurgled laughter. 'Y'call this lil' thing an axe?'

    Blitzmann frowned. 'I don't pay you to talk, Mr. Fist. I pay you to throw axes at assassins. Now...' He made an inviting gesture. 'Please do so.'

    'Whatever y'say, bossman.' He raised the axe over his head. 'Alley-oop!'

    Blitzmann turned to Jupiter. 'Now watch carefully, my dear,' he said, grinning broadly.

Ipso Facto

Image courtesy of Dr. Steel

    When Jupiter's pretty features paled in terror rather than flush in excitement, Blitzmann felt it best to explain.
    'I'll spare you the details,' he said. 'But here's the gist of it: a drow gets hired to assassinate me. He fails, and I perform a few experiments on him. Said drow's clan swears revenge, sends more assassins my way, yadda yadda yadda, long story short, ipso facto, I am now a sworn blood-nemesis of Clan Undrek'Thoz.'
    He couldn't help but notice that Juniper did not look reassured.
    'I use them as test subjects,' he said. 'Live bodies are hard to come by.'

Nothing Special

    Blitzmann wheeled the drow into the cleared space, the black-skinned creature tied securely to a solid block of wood. It rolled smoothly across the wooden floor of the warehouse. Juniper frowned at the sight.
    'What's this?' she asked from the other side of the room.
    'Nothing special,' Blitzmann said. 'Just another would-be assassin come to exact revenge in the night.'
    'Oh,' she said. 'No, I'm sorry, what? Another assassin?'
    Blitzmann waved dismissively. 'It's nothing to worry about, really.'
    'It is when I'm involved!' she insisted, her usual composure gone.
    'You'll get used to it,' he said, joining her behind the barricade.

Axe

    After the silent battle that Juniper seemed not only indifferent to, but also to win, Blitzmann turned his back to her with a dismissive 'Pah!' She breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Doctor Blitzmann was not an easy man to work with, but there were ways to deal with him: Prove your value. Stand firm in your beliefs. Suggest something utterly insane and overly complicated.
    'An axe, perhaps.'
    'An axe? You want m-'
    'That explodes.'
    Blitzmann pauses. 'It also summons demons,' he says.
    'Small ones,' says Juniper.
    'I think we will get along splendidly, Miss Berries,' he says, extending a hand.

Assistant

    'Strapping spikes onto the squirrels won't actually turn them into...' Juniper glances at her notes. '"Unstoppable, orange killing machines," doctor.' She flicks a strand of black hair away from her pretty face.

    Blitzmann scowls at her, then at the box of chittering squirrels. 'Well,' he says, a little indignantly. 'Perhaps you should have brought me some better squirrels!'

    Juniper raises an eyebrow. 'Better squirrels, doctor?'

    'Yes!' he says. 'Better! Bigger! Angrier! Bring me a batch of pumped up and pissed off squirrels, and I'll bring you the most dangerous group of merciless killers the world has ever seen. But this,' he says, brandishing one of the small, furry, spike-covered creatures. 'I can do nothing with this.' The squirrel nips playfully at his fingers before he throws it back with the others.

    'If I may speak frankly, doctor?'

    Blitzmann waves his hand in an "of course" kind of way.

    'Our employers are deeply concerned about your ideas. They've asked you to bring them a weapon. Something that will win them the war. Quite frankly,' Juniper says, 'The quality of squirrels is the least of your concerns.'

    Blitzmann glares at his new assistant. She holds his gaze, a slightly bored look on her face. 

Octopi, cont.

Day seven (7):
Subject 70-a sedated for transport to bigger cage. Mid-transport, however, it regained consciousness. It proceeded to escape captivity and rampage through the town. Recaptured and sedated. Acceptable civilian casualties. 


Day fourteen (14):
After thorough autopsies, it appears that Subject 70-a's many spikes and beaks secrete an incredibly powerful neurotoxin. Tests for possible weaponization are pending. Subject 70-a now measures approximately eight (8) meters in height.


Day forty (40): 
Subject 70-a appears to be the herald of an ancient, terrible god. After reaching approximately fifty meters in height, it destroyed the town and disappeared into the sea. Research cancelled. 


--
Music of the now: SUPERVILLAINY, by Lucy Knisley

Octopi

Notes regarding evolution and behavior of post-hand octopi in captivity

Day one (1):
Two (2) octopi, after surgically removed from Subject 70's arms, are placed in a reinforced BlitzGlass(C) container. Behavior appears dull, possibly due to stress.


Day two (2): 
Subject 70-a appears to have attacked, killed and consumed Subject 70-b overnight. It has grown to approximately three times its original size. Noticeably more aggressive. 


Day five (5): 
Subject 70-a, now approximately 3 meters in height, escaped its cell. It was recaptured and restrained thanks to Ulrich's martial skill and brute strength, but not before it located and consumed Subject 70. 


--
Music of the now: Waka Waka (This Time For Africa), by Shakira

Ingenious

    Blitzmann took a step back to admire his handiwork. Beside him stood Ulrich, one of his rock-like eyebrows raised.
    "Well," said Blitzmann. "What do you think?"
    "It's certainly..."
    "Ingenious?"
    "It's very creative, Doc, like always. Although..." Ulrich hesitated. "You could have built a pair of hands for him."
    Blitzmann waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, but that would have been boring. This is much more exciting, no?"
    Ulrich had to admit that it was. He pointed at the mass of whirring gears and clicking widgets that sprouted from the bound man's arm. "What does this do?"
   "Haven't the foggiest," Blitzmann said.

--
Music of the now: Lights Out, by Rick Astley (Yes, that Rick Astley)