I’ve seen all these lovely headcanons about the people who produce costumes for superheroes and supervillains, but I’m always thinking: what about minions?
I mean, most villains have a theme, and custom tailoring is well and good for the boss, but what about the flunkies? When Captain Killblood needs a dozen pirate outfits for her “crew” on short notice, it’s probably not in the budget for all of them to be bespoke – and since nobody’s catching supervillains by tracing their credit card receipts, clearly she’s not sourcing them via regular channels.
I can’t help but picture our hypothetical supervillain walking out of the magic tailor shop and promptly heading down the block to Uncle Zargon’s Costume Emporium – all sizes and major body plans in stock, discretion guaranteed.
I always kinda figured that the minions were down with the theme and cobble together their own costumes…and now I’m picturing a minion-for-hire who has a couple dozen minion costumes stuffed into the back of their closet. Sometimes they get the accessories mixed up, so embarrassing.
And now I’m picturing this really dedicated minion and her closet full of DIY costumes henching for a whole series of one-shot theme villains – you know, the kind who get made out to be some kind of Big Deal for an issue or three, then never appear again – and eventually becoming much better known to the superhero community than any of the baddies she’s thrown in with.
(The more civic-minded heroes keep trying to give her mid-combat life counseling, like “you know, you don’t have to risk your neck just to dress up – you could get into cosplay”, and she’s all “oh, but I love the excitement!” as she unleashes the robot killer bees.)
“Shit shit shit!” Kat said under her breath as she speed-walked down the street, clutching her overcoat closed and trying not to look suspicious. Her phone buzzed angrily in her pocket. “I know, I know.” She glanced furtively around but nobody was paying attention to her. She sprinted across the street at a red light, ducked into a narrow alley and gave a final look over her shoulder to see that the coast was clear. Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a folded bundle of green and yellow fabric. Gripping it with both hands, she flapped it several times to open it, then pulled the mask over her head and worried it into place. The overcoat came off and she carefully folded and stashed it
in a plastic bag
behind a dumpster. The costume she was wearing today was a blend of light greens and pale yellows, with a stylized cross pattern over the chest. She pulled a pin from a breast pocket hidden behind the cross and pinned it over her right breast without looking, keeping her eyes peeled for trouble. She pulled on a pair of green gloves and checked the disposable phone. One minute to spare. She headed further down the alley and turned the corner, coming up behind several men and woman dressed identically to her.
“You’re late, K,” said the woman in front of her, looking back at her critically.
“Fashionably late, F. Got here before the boss and that’s all that matters.”
As if on cue, a man, dressed in what could only be described as a conglomerate of every offensive Irish stereotype, walked around the corner ahead of the gathered Green Boys (women members notwithstanding). He wore a green suit emblazoned with a giant shamrock. A green tophat sat off kilter on his red haired head above blue eyes and a wily smirk. His green, jewel encrusted cane tapped sharply against the pavement. Blarney O’Brian was far from an A list villain, possibly even C or D list, but he paid consistantly and had a rule against killing. It wasn’t the safest work, but Kat needed to pay the rent like everybody else.
“Top o’ the morning to ya!” Blarney said cheerfully, “The Patty Wagon will be along in five minutes. In and out job, laddies.”
He tapped his cane against the door beside them and a beam of green light erupted from the end. The door shuddered as the locks on it came open. A stroke of luck, but that was Blarney’s whole shtick. He motioned to the man at the front of the Green Boys, R. R nodded and pulled the door open. One by one, they rushed inside, with K taking up the rear, followed only by Blarney himself. He stopped her for a moment.
“A pleasure to have you, K. Always goes smoother when you’re around, aye? Luck o’ the Irish in you, it is.” He gave her a genial pat on the back and ushered her inside.
Ahead of her came the sound of screams and yelling and several loud bangs. Smoke drifted over the floor. Strange, they hadn’t been planning on using smoke bombs… K entered the front lobby of the bank and nearly ran into L’s back. What was happening? She stood on her tiptoes and took in the scene. The bank patrons were already on the floor, hands over their heads, a few of them whimpering. On her side of the room were the Green Boys, lined up as smoke drifted past them. On the other side of the room, lined up in equal numbers and staring them down was the Possum Posse, unmistakable in their black and white costumes with fur scarves, fingerless gloves, ten gallon hats, and distinctive “PP” broaches over their hearts. K felt a rush of adrenaline and did her best to hunker down out of sight. What were they doing here?
“What have we here, then? Possums?” Blarney said, pushing his way to the front of the group. “Bit o’ bad luck… that.”
“Yer not kidding, Blarney,” said Lady Possum, stepping out from her Posse to stand opposite him. She wore her distinct possum costume, complete with cowgirl hat, spurred boots, and mask that gave her a pointed possum snout.
“I was under the impression you were dead,” Blarney said.
“I reckin people think I’m dead all the time, shuge,” Possum replied. “Awfully inconvenient, us thinkin to rob the same bank at the same time. But the way I see it, I was here first.”
K couldn’t believe this was happening. She was not in the mood for a V3(villain vs villain) today. As she glanced across the room, she noticed that several of the Posse were whispering to each other and throwing looks in her direction. One pointed at her and nodded vigorously. A few of the Green Boys noticed and looked at her as well. Kat shook her head at her fellow Boys and shrugged confusedly. Their eyes went from her face to her chest and widened. “What??” Kat hissed. Suddenly the room was silent. Kat looked up. Lady Possum was staring down her Posse.
“What in tarnation are y’all whispering about behind my back?” she demanded.
One of the Posse cleared his throat nervously. He pointed at Kat. All eyes turned to her and a murmur went through the room. She looked around, fighting down her panic. She looked down and her heart dropped. Pinned to her costume was not the green shamrock of the Green Boys, but a double P broach. Damn and fuck! she thought, they both feel the same through gloves!
“Listen, I can explain,” Kat started.
“Hey!” one of the Posse shouted, “Is that K?”
“I-”
“Yeah, that’s her hair, all tangly in a ponytail!” another said.
Kat fought back a despairing groan.
“So! That’s how it is, is it?” Blarney shouted, turning on her and pointing his cane at her accusingly. The rest of the Green Boy’s backed away from her, leaving her in the open and unprotected. Kat desperately wanted to slink home, crawl into bed, and never come out again. “Join me Green Boys as a- a- a SPY?” he continued.
“No, I-”
“Now wait one goll-darn minute, partner, I never used a spy in my life!” shouted Possum. “K, yer the best Posse girl I ever had, what exactly is going on here?”
“Well, I-”
Suddenly light exploded into the bank. There was a tremendous boom, followed by a harsh wind. Floating in the middle of the room was Higgs Boson, her costume a luminous white, radiating light that seemed to cast no shadows where objects blocked its path. She dropped to the floor, hands on her hips, white hair flowing around her as if she were underwater, and surveyed the room slowly.
“Alright you jokers,” she said in a voice that seemed to reverberate a moment before she spoke, “I’m giving you ten seconds to surrender before I go collider on your asses. One… two…”
Blarney raised his cane and green light shot from the jewel on the end. Several ceiling tiles fell from the ceiling, landing directly on Higgs’ head. The Boys sprang into action. Several made a dash for the exit, securing the doors and checking for police backup. Other’s grabbed whatever cash they could and beat a hasty retreat. A couple other threw smoke bombs at Higgs while she was distracted. At the same time, several PPs drew ropes and lassoed Higgs. Lady Possum and Blarney charged her in unison. Higgs leaped into the air, her body blurring and vanishing as several ghostly copies of herself flashed briefly into existence around the room. The ghosts punched and kicked at the various mooks, delivering decidedly solid blows, before disappearing again.
“Geeze,” Kat said, “we need to collapse her state! Everyone close your eyes!” All around the room, mooks shut their eyes tight. Even Blarney and Possum obeyed. All but Kat, who looked pointedly at one of the ghostly images, forcefully deciding that that one was the “real” Higgs Boson. Higgs’ waveform collapsed and all the others vanished. She dropped to the floor, and breathed heavily. She could scatter herself like that, but being forcibly collapsed took a lot out of her.
“She’s vulnerable!” Kat yelled. “Everyone move before she recovers!”
It was barely controlled chaos as minions scrambled to grab money and split. Blarney and Possum moved to attack each other in the lull, but Higgs gathered her strength and flew at them. She landed a glancing blow on Blarney, sending him flying across the room where he happened to land on the counter and roll out of view onto a conveniently placed ficus. He rolled to his feet and broke for the exit. Possum drew her six shooter and took aim, Higgs threw herself out of the way and fired a beam of particles at the marsupial cowgirl. Possum took the blow to the center of the chest. She was launched backwards, impacting the wall hard and slumping lifeless to the floor. Or at least apparently lifeless. She really had a way of coming back when no one was looking.
Kat, meanwhile, made a break for the emergency exit. She reached the door right behind Blarney, who shot her a death glare. Outside, the Patty Wagon was running and ready, already loaded with the Boys who had escaped. Blarney leaped into the open door and turned to look at Kat. He shook his head in disgust and closed the door. The vehicle revved and shot out of the alley at full speed. Kat sprinted in the other direction.
She reached her stashed coat and threw it on, pulling the mask from her face and stuffing it into a pocket. She nearly threw it in the dumpster. She wouldn’t be needing it again any time soon. But who knew, maybe she could salvage it somehow. It was similar to the costume Glam Roc’s crew wore. Something to worry about later, at any rate.
She made her way out onto the main street and did her best to blend in with the crowd. In the distance she heard sirens. Silently she berated herself. It was an unmitigated disaster. How could she have been so stupid as to mix up the pins like that? And what were even the odds it would happen on a day when they ran into the Posse anyways? Stupid stupid stupid!
Slowly she made her way away from downtown. Years of practice won out over her desire to just go home and be done with it. She backtracked and moved in and out of cover, sticking to crowds and stopping at several stashes to don wigs and new clothes, ditching her overcoat and costume in a rented locker at a local gym. She kept a sharp eye out for anyone who looked familiar or might be following her. After at least an hour of winding her way aimlessly through the streets, she turned her amble in a homeward direction.
Her apartment was shamefully small, but it was the best she could afford. Barely a one bedroom in a less than great neighborhood. But it had big closets and her landlord was not the nosey type. She let herself in and turned on the lights, dropping her keys on the table. She entered her room and flopped onto her bed with a sigh.
“You’re good, you know.”
Kat shot upright. There, floating in her room was Higgs Boson, her costume no longer glowing, but her hair still flowing around her. Her voice, interestingly, no longer had the annoying echo effect.
“Who are-”
“Don’t bother. I’m not kidding,” Higgs said, settling her feet to the floor, “About you being good. For a while I thought I was going to be tracking you all night. You even nearly lost me a couple times, and knowing people’s positions is kinda my thing.” She smiled at her own joke. “But what I’m really interested in is what the hell was going on back there when I dropped in on your little heist.”
Kat sat on her bed, lips shut tight.
“Not in the mood to talk? That’s fine. We’ve got enough evidence to implicate you without a confession. So just tell me, what was all that about? Green Boy’s gettup but wearing a Possum pin? Did you set that meeting up somehow? What kind of game were you trying to play? And when I really think about it, I’m pretty sure I recognized your voice from a fight I had with the Eclectic Razor’s crew a few months back, which would explain how you knew how to interrupt my electron cloud attack. All of which leads me to wonder, just who the hell are you anyways?”
Kat sighed. She was thoroughly fucked and she knew it. She got up off of her bed. She almost got some pleasure out of how Higgs tensed slightly when she did. Two for flinching. She walked past Higgs and placed her hand on the closet door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pulled the door open, revealing the interior. Higgs raised an eyebrow and moved to get a better view.
“What the hell is this…”
The closet was big. Inexplicably big for how shitty the rest of the apartment was. Practically a walk-in. Two metal rods ran the length of the closet, each laden and bowed with costume after costume on hangers. Mook getups for every major, minor, and one-off villain to have ever operated in Industry City. Somewhere in the back she even had an embarrassingly immodest one-piece made of spider silk from when The Webmaster had done a stint back in ‘09. At the far back of the closet was an antique White sewing machine on a rolling sewing desk, tucked out of the way when not in use. Another, newer, machine was stashed under it for when modern attachments were needed. On a shelf above the costumes were half a dozen Rubbermaid bins filled with fabrics and notions and bits of plastic tubing and hard foam balls and any number of other odds and ends.
Higgs look genuinely stunned. “Did… wait, did you hand sew all of these yourself?”
Kat shrugged. “Hiring a tailor is expensive.”
“Holy shit, is that an Odd Fellow getup? They haven’t operated since the fifties.”
“Yeah, some of these are just passion projects. Just to see if I can, you know?”
Higgs looked at Kat, her brows furrowed. Kat could almost hear the superhero trying to work her way through this revelation to a conclusion that made sense.
“What are you? Some kind of mastermind pulling the strings of every villain in the city?”
Kat let out a laugh and had to cover her mouth with a hand to keep herself contained. Finally she got herself under control. “Are you kidding me? I don’t even own a car. Fine, you want the honest truth? Conventions.”
“Con….ventions?”
“Yeah. I was, am, really into cosplay. It just started as a hobby to pass the time. Did a couple competitions, won some prizes. Then, back in… ‘07 I’m at Comicon, heading to the foodcourt for lunch before a contest when Slugdewright shows up with fifty or so of the Googoos in tow. Thing is, he’s, what, sixty? Has no clue what a convention is, let alone cosplay. So Sludgewright sees this nerd in a Destroyall getup and thinks he’s the real thing and is all ‘my greatest foe, now we settle this once and for all blah blah blah and the poor guy is pissing himself. And there I am in my 100% accurate Googoo outfit thinking I’m about to see this guy get flattened, so I… I dunno, got real stupid and run up to the nerd shouting ‘look out my liege, he’s laid a trap!’ and tackle the guy to the ground then I tell him to play along and pretended to snap his neck.
“Next thing I know I’m being carried off by Sludgewright to his secret lair where he crowns me his new second in command for saving his life and he gives me like a thousand dollars for the job and, I know this is fucking loony, but I’m standing there thinking, ‘holy shit, my costume was so good it fooled Sludgewright into thinking I was the genuine article.’ Fuck costume contests, that’s the real test of excellence. So I got myself out of there real fast before he realized that Destroyall is still alive and kicking over in Detroit and I’m in my room afterwards looking at my lineup of costumes and I got to thinking: Who else is my work authentic enough to fool?
“Anyways, it turns out I’m pretty good at the mook thing. Eye for detail and I haven’t drunk the coolaid so I tend to see situations a little more objectively than the true believers and make slightly more sane calls. Next thing I know, I’ve got jobs lined up from basically everyone in town, all thinking I’m their prized goon. Not able to make it to every job but definitely their favorite underling when I’m around. I… had a bit of a scheduling overlap earlier today and was in a bit of a rush to the Blarney job… Must have grabbed the wrong pin by accident. Look, they feel really similar through gloves, okay? Hell of bad luck, Possum showing up like that, though, right?”
Kat shrugged again. She felt strangely lighter having gotten all of it off her chest. She had never told anyone the truth before. And while the rush of fleecing everyone she worked for was what she lived for, having it out in the open felt strangely liberating. Ironic that she was about to go to jail and never feel liberated again.
Higgs Boson’s face seemed to be caught between sheer bafflement, disbelief, and something close to dawning horror. Finally she took a deep breath and settled on stern resolution.
“Okay, Kat,” she held up her hand, “I searched the address when I saw you come in. Here’s the thing, I’m a little terrified of what it means that someone like you is doing all this for so long so… successfully. And I have to agree that between the pin, Lady Possum and Blarney meeting at the same heist while you were there, and even my being in the area when the silent alarm tripped, its all too much to be a coincidence. You said it yourself, it was unbelievable bad luck. But here’s what not many people know about Blarney’s powers. It’s all based on luck. That gem of his is all about giving him the best run of luck at everything he does. The thing about luck, though, is that good luck now is just bad luck down the line. It all evens out. Or in this case, I’m thinking all that good luck for Blarney meant that one of his enemies was in for a bit of good luck themselves. Namely, me.”
Kat’s eyes went wide. “Wait, you’re saying all this was because Blarney’s powers needed someone to dump on and I was the patsy it picked?“
Higgs shook her head and smiled, a mischievous look Kat had seen on too many faces.
“No. Well, kinda. I thinking, the best thing that could have happened to me was meeting you, Kat. Because heroing is hard work. There are way more of you guys than there are of us. And it looks to me like I’ve conveniently stumbled upon a person who has their finger in every dastardly pie in this whole damn city. So how about you and I make a deal. Nothing too debilitating for your many employers. If everyone you work for happens to get caught, well, it won’t take a Dr. Branium to figure out what’s up, will it? But some heads up to disrupt the occasional job, help keep the collateral damage down, maybe a bug or two planted here and there.”
Kat narrowed her eyes. This was all sounding a bit cloak and dagger for someone as straight and narrow as Higgs.
“And in return,” Higgs went on, “I don’t tell anyone that I’ve uncovered a mastermind working behind the scenes of every villainous operation in Industry City. I’ll even run some interference to help smooth over tonight’s little fiasco, see if I can’t get you back into the good graces of at least one of them. And if the reward of a clear conscience and a clean record isn’t enough, how about I throw some old fashion cash your way from time to time. Maybe a new sewing machine?”
Kat’s mind was ablurr. It was a lot to take in, but she felt very well backed into a corner. “Well…. I have had my eye on a serger that is a bit outside my price range, and an embroidery machine that would be great for logos….” She looked hard at Higgs, then extended her hand. Higgs smiled and took her hand, giving it a firm shake.
“Well, Million Minion, I think this is a the start of a wonderful partnership.”
Million Minion? Kat raised an eyebrow at the moniker, but already her mind was flooding with costume ideas and subtle ways to work a double M into other costumes without them being noticeable, “I suppose it is.”
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