If you read the Thrillcraft story you are sort of familiar with the concept of alternate Willcrafts. I'm gonna assume you didn't though, so basically it's an idea I wish to incorporate in my future videos. Alternate Willcrafts are Willcraft from alternate dimensions, and since I tend to plan my content years ahead and then end up scrapping most of my plans, I have developed some of these alternate Willcrafts quite a bit. One of the most developed ones is nicknamed Villaincraft, and as the name implies he's a supervillain. At some point in a pretty distant future I'd like to make an animated miniseries or a webcomic about him, but for now I'll have to settle for a shabby short story on a Wikia page. So... Enjoy, I guess. If it's enjoyable.
Disclaimer: Contains swearing, slightly suggestive themes, a bit of violence, and one or two lame references.
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It was late at night in your generic superhero-supervillain city. You know, the urban ones usually with islands and shit. Maybe New York. It's apparently the center of the world if Hollywood is to be used as a credible source. Seriously, they get all the alien invasions and giant monsters and stuff.
Anyway, on this night the streets were mostly empty and dark, save for a lot of random lights like neon signs and light posts and whatnot, as well as the occassional car belonging mainly to taxi drivers that got the night shift as a result of bad luck at the straw picking. But one particular car is the focus of our story. A van with armed men and valuable cargo, tailed by several police cars with sirens blaring.
The aformentioned police cars contained police officers which were of the rare variety that is neither fat, unintelligent or corrupt. These were compotent servants of the law which they struggled to uphold as a consequence of the many supervillains in the city, countered by the equally numerous superheroes that basically made the police force fade into the background. These particular police officers were bent on changing that. Tonight, they would be the ones capturing the villains. Sure, these were ordinary criminals as opposed to the considerably more dangerous supervillains, but lawbreakers were lawbreakers.
Through their extensive knowledge of the city roads they had managed to trick the band of criminals onto a road that would lead them to the harbour, from which they would hopefully have them cornered. And indeed, soon enough the van came to a halt with screeching tires as they had arrived at an old warehouse by the harbour.
The men got out of the van and opened fire while the police officers stopped their cars and did the same, taking cover behind their cars.
One of the criminals had taken a bullet to the shoulder and another to the stomach when, just as the police officers thought they were overpowering the thugs, the tables abruptly turned. There was a noise, and then suddenly one of the police cars exploded. Officers and criminals alike turned towards the source of the sound, seeing a figure standing on the roof of the warehouse holding a cylindrical object. With another noise, and a flare of light, a projectile flew forth from said object and into the second police car, and then another one into next, quickly blowing up all the remaining officers.
The figure dismissively tossed the object off the roof, causing it to land with a heavy thud on the ground and allowing the criminals to see that it was, rather unsurprisingly, a bazooka. Then the figure itself leapt off the roof, landing with far more surprising grace and lack of injury. Standing up and brushing off its clothes despite sustaining no visible dust, the figure was now close enough to the thugs for them to discern more detail.
It was most certainly a male, and a quite imposing one. Standing more than two metres tall, with a wide, strong build, the man before them could put almost any bodyguard and bouncer to shame. His large frame was covered with a black trenchcoat that waved somewhat in the soft wind, and underneath he wore a white shirt and black tie. His large hands were hugged tightly by thick, black rubber gloves that could probably withstand a large variety of acidic substances. But most notably, upon his head he wore a top hat of modest height, and his face was concealed by a black gas mask.
The thugs breathed out a sigh of relief. They recognized this man. He was on their side. An up-and-coming supervillain.
"Well, look who it is!" one of the thugs that wasn't trying to help his wounded associates said. "Willcraft, isn't it? Thanks, you really saved our asses just now!"
Willcraft took a few casual steps towards them, made somewhat threatening by his towering build and expressionless face. "I sure did. And I believe that your cargo should make for a proper token of gratitude."
The thug froze. "Uh, say what now?"
Willcraft pointed idly at their van. "Your cargo. I've had my eyes on that stuff for a long time now. But you amateurs got lucky and snatched it before I could. So now I had to abandon my plans that I worked on so carefully and resort to what I'm doing right now. So hand it over, or I will be quick to undo the whole saving ordeal."
The thug glanced backwards, and was pleased to see that his associates were thinking the same he was. They had dragged the wounded to the safety of the van and were now pointing their weapons at Willcraft. He followed their example by raising his gun.
Willcraft sighed and snapped his fingers. Two dozen masked and armed figures showed up from various hiding places, weapons pointed towards the thugs.
"Unlike you idiots that would've been taken in by the cops if I hadn't showed up, I actually bother to do some planning," Willcraft said as he strided closer to the thugs. "I really thought this was a good deal. You almost get yourselves killed, I save you, you owe me your lives, I get the van as a thank you-gift."
He spun around slowly with his arms stretched out, speaking loadly to his henchmen: "Isn't that a good deal?"
He was met with affirmative verbal responses and nods, and then turned back to face the thugs. "And yet, not learning your lesson from how you fucked up this heist of yours, you get too greedy and try to mess with me. I thought I had enough of a reputation by now for common thugs to show some respect. But nooo, apparently I'm gonna have to set a few more examples. And why haven't you dropped your weapons yet?! You're surrounded, for fuck's sake!"
The thugs dropped their weapons and held up their hands. A few of Willcraft's henchmen approached them to confiscate their weapons, and then moved back to their positions as their leader walked up to the increasingly frightened men.
"Take out the two in the van and do whatever you want with them, as long as you do it fast," Willcraft ordered his henchmen. "I'll deal with these chumps."
Willcraft cracked his knuckles, and a few crushed skulls, broken bones and punctured organs later, all the criminals before him lied dead on the ground.
Anyone who studied Willcraft's records knew that he was a highly dangerous foe in unarmed combat. Extensive knowledge of boxing and anatomy, less extensive but still considerable knowledge of martial arts, as well as his incredible physical strength and resilience made him the most deadly supervillain to fight in hand-to-hand combat who (as far as anyone knew) wasn't empowered with super strength. To remind everyone of this, he enjoyed beating his victims to death as a display of his strength and ruthlessness, even when other alternatives were available. Unless said alternatives seemed more fun, of course.
One of Willcraft's henchmen handed him a towel, and while cleaning off the blood on his hands he said: "Alright, boys! Get into the van and let's take it home! Anyone who doesn't fit inside gets home the way they got here!"
Tossing the towel aside for the same henchman to pick up, Willcraft got inside the van along with some of his henchmen. Then they drove off, leaving behind a few wrecked police cars, several burned police corpses, and a few pummeled common thugs.
"My original plan would have been so much cleaner," Willcraft muttered. "Oh well, this makes for a better-looking crime scene."
* * *
Willcraft's lair was underground in the outskirts of the city, in a system of abandoned sewers and subways that had started to intersect as a result of him being forced to expand his lair. Or rather, forcing his henchmen to expand his lair. A filthly place smelling of all kinds of toxic waste, but safe and roomy. That's what mattered. And Willcraft didn't really mind the stench. In fact, it was one of the reasons he chose this location as the base of operation for his villany.
The van rolled into one of the lair's secret and well-guarded entrances, driving through the large tunnels until it reached the "garage", a large chamber where they parked all vehicles, stolen and not stolen.
Willcraft got out of the van along with his henchmen and eagerly walked to the back of the van. While he opened the doors at the back, his sidekick joined him by his side. Namely a black, slightly above human-sized robot with four robust legs, a pair of arms built to be extra thick to contain a number of weapons and tools, and a broad-shouldered torso that beared Willcraft's logo, the text "SIDEKICK" written below it with green spray paint to avoid anyone confusing this for the actual Willcraft. The mechanical monstrosity was capped off with a hemisphere of bullet-proof glass encasing the creeper plushie which controlled the whole thing.
How, why and when Willcraft gave sentience to a piece of merchandise from an old indie game that never caught on was unknown to everyone but Willcraft and said piece of merchandise. But for whatever reason, despite its defiant attitude, this abonimation against nature served as Willcraft's closest associate.
"So you managed to undo your fuckup after all," Lawrence said with the mech's high-pitched. synthetic voice.
"I didn't fuck up," Willcraft said while entering the van, followed by his sidekick.
"Uh-huh? So someone DIDN'T steal the thing you wanted from right under your nose?" Lawrence taunted his boss.
"Nope," Willcraft replied, walking over to the black box that was the only thing in the van's storage. "I stole the thing I wanted from right under someone else's nose. It was just a different someone. What matters is the end result."
Willcraft knelt down by the box and opened it, grinning widely behind his mask. "And the end result is evidently very yummy."
Lawrence looked over his shoulder and saw the many diamonds within the box. His insatiable greed caused him to get a figurative erection upon seeing something so shiny and valuable.
Willcraft picked one of them up and held it between his fingers, studying it closely while speaking. "A shipping from Australia. Among the purest of diamonds on the market. Just look at the complete absence of colour. That's how they should look if they are close to the highest density a diamond can reach. No invasive impurities."
"And whatcha gonna do with them?" Lawrence asked. "Other than just... I don't know, derive sexual pleasure from their presence? I mean, I'm fine if that's all we use 'em for, but you know..."
"I am going to use them for a variety of purposes. I got many inventions and experiments that require diamonds, the purer the better. I might also try to add them to the blade of my axe to improve its strength and cutting ability. Of course, finding the means to actually do that will prove difficult considering that they're so fucking delightfully hard with no rivalry!"
"You just described the state of the cock I don't have. Speaking of which, I've been wanting to ask you about adding a feature to my mech suit-"
"Shut up and carry this box for me."
Lawrence immediately stopped talking and closed the box's lid, lifting it up with his strong mech arms. His obedience did not come from loyalty to his boss, but from the fact that his mech suit was programmed to follow the three laws of robotics. Not Asimov's laws, but Willcraft's own personalized laws, which were as follows:
1. Do not harm Willcraft or allow him to come to harm.
2. Obey the orders of Willcraft.
3. Protect your own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the first or second laws.
If Lawrence attempted to break any of these laws, he would lose control of the mech suit and it would be set to autopilot, immediately preventing the violation attempt. That didn't stop him from constantly trying, of course. For a sentient plushie he was very stubborn.
Willcraft walked out of the van, followed by his grumpily unwilling sidekick.
"So what's next, dickhead?" Lawrence asked.
"I'm going to hold a rally with the henchmen to celebrate the success of the backup mission, and then we're taking those diamonds to my lab to have some fun with them."
"'Fun' meaning nerd shit and not playing with 'em, I assume?"
* * *
Soon they arrived at the part of the lair where Willcraft's henchmen were holed up most of the time. A large room with snack bars, drink dispensers, sleeping bags and even a few bathroom stalls and showers nobody ever cleaned. All in all, everything that lowlife goons needed to survive. Other than life's necessities they also had a lot of things to entertain them, like stereos, TVs and other electronics, and more importantly a sparring area to practice close combat with a selection of weapons or their bare hands, and a shooting range to practice their aim with firearms and on rare occasions even hit the target, usually on accident.
The room was built so that one of the entrances, the one Willcraft and Lawrence were entering from, led to a stage of sorts giving them a clear view of the entire area and giving anyone in this area a clear view of their boss.
Willcraft's henchmen were currently doing what they were always doing: Drinking, dancing, fighting, doing drugs, laughing at things nobody knew why they were funny, and overall just acting like a chaotic mass of idiots.
They were all wearing masks since this was a mandatory part of henchmanship under Willcraft, and they came in a large variety. Wrestling masks, hockey masks, animal masks, tribal masks, gas masks (but not of Willcraft's model, that was strictly forbidden), and many more. Other clothing generally consisted of hoodies, tank tops, bullet-proof vests, camouflage, jeans, studded garments and ammunition belts.
As one might guess, Willcraft's henchmen were all lowlife thugs, rebellious teenagers, and other people you might encounter in ghettos. Not the kind of minions you'd brag about, but they were easy and fun to recruit and they weren't COMPLETELY useless. Willcraft was planning to get better henchmen later in his supervillain career, but for now these were good enough.
The initiation process was his favourite part. Everyone who wanted to become one of Willcraft's henchmen were locked up in a small room where metal music was blasted at full volume and the walls were completely covered with screens showing explosions, gunfire, gore, and whatever else violent and adrenaline-inducing footage one could think of. There were of course lots of subliminal messages in both the footage and the music about how they would be loyal to Willcraft as well. All they got to eat and drink was extremely spicy meat and very strong and very illegal beer of Willcraft's own recipe.
Once the subject had been properly broken, which usually took a few days, they were let back out as a violent, unhinged, mostly incompotent but also loyal henchman.
Willcraft stepped up to the center of the stage and signaled to Lawrence to get the attention of the raving henchmen. Lawrence switched out his mechanical fist for a laser cannon and fired a blast into the air, causing all henchmen to turn towards the stage and gather around.
"My dear scum of society!" Willcraft yelled. "We have enjoyed another success!"
Lawrence opened the box in his hands to show the diamonds to the henchmen, causing an excited cheering.
"To those of you who participated in the mission, I would like to congratulate you all for a job well done! And to those of you who didn't participate, don't feel left out. I'm sure you would have done just as well. Seriously, you basically just had to stand around and do nothing. But as pointless as that might seem, it was a crucial part of the mission! And to celebrate, I'm giving you permission to thaw one pizza each from our storage and have a big pizza party!"
The cheering intensified upon hearing this and the henchmen ran to the storage. Willcraft had robbed several pizzerias for these very situations. For some reason his henchmen wouldn't even ask for a share of the profits as long as they were rewarded with junk food. And he would much rather pay them with pizzas than diamonds.
"Come, Lawrence," he ordered his sidekick. "Time to head off to the lab."
"'Kay," Lawrence answered. "And about that feature addition, I'm thinking adjustable length and girth, and maybe a vibration function-"
* * *
Willcraft's lab was a massive chamber full of scrap, half-finished inventions and stolen equipment. He had raided science facilities and even nuclear plants to get what he needed for his experiments and creations.
Other than being a powerful brute force, Willcraft was also highly intelligent. He was a brilliant inventor and a tactical genius, and his mind was almost entirely responsible for his success in his villain career. The ability to plan near perfect crimes, foresee and counter complications, and construct incredible machines was what truly made him a force to be reckoned with.
He and Lawrence spent hours there experimenting with his new diamonds, even neglecting sleep. Willcraft didn't even realize how long he had stayed up until the morning news came on the cheap TV he had in the lab for this very purpose: Make sure he wouldn't miss any news concerning him. Which usually meant news involving him, but he also liked to keep track of other supervillains' progress so he knew what he had to compete against.
"Oh, oh, they're gonna talk about me!" Willcraft said when the reporter moved on to a different news story. He eagerly sat down in the ragged armchair he had found at the dump along with the TV itself.
"Diamonds of an estimated value of over 70 million dollars were stolen last night," the reporter said. "According to reports from police officers pursuing the criminals they were driving a white van and were tracked down to the harbour, where both they and the police were abruptly killed. The diamonds were not to be found on the site, and security cameras show that the one responsible for the murders and the theft of the diamonds is Willcraft, one of the city's newest supervillains. The images that follow are graphic and we wish to warn sensitive viewers."
Willcraft laughed excitedly. "Oh, I hope that other criminals are gonna start feeling wary to even COMMIT crimes anymore with the risk of me interfering!"
"Well, that's obviously not gonna happen," Lawrence said. "You killed a few cops and thugs and stole what had already been stolen. The entire city ain't gonna tremble before you over that."
"Always the killjoy," Willcraft sighed. "But you're right. I'm still a new player. But I'll be at the top of the food chain in this city before they knew what hit them, mark my words. I'll outperform every other supervillain, kill them if necessary. And then I will take over this city, and then another city, and then another, and another until I'm a world superpower! And then, maybe, the world. Who knows what the future might hold?"
"Well, you're not exactly NEW new... You've been a villain for years, and you sure as hell haven't done much."
"That's because, my shortsighted sidekick, I made sure to plan carefully. The first few years were spent building this lair, constructing the machines I wanted to have around, recruiting henchmen, and of course get to know the city and its heroes and villains. And that is why, now that I'm finally taking action, we are being so successful. Remember villains like, say, that lizard guy whatever his name was? Well, pretty much nobody does, because he got himself killed in his first month of villany. He had no lair, he had no plan, all he had was a goal and a few gadgets. And he was defeated by a TEENAGE superhero. I have spent time establishing myself properly, building up my forces in the shadows, to then take the entire city by storm and sieze it in one fell swoop! Like that hot chick in the cartoon with the space hillbilly."
"Well, we still haven't been doin' much impressive shit now that we're up and runnin'," Lawrence pointed out. "The lizard guy may not have survived long, but he was plannin' to wipe out the entire country's human population with a DNA-specific neurotoxin. Another day or two and he'd have succeeded. When are we gonna do somethin' like that?"
"Soon, my friend. Soon," Willcraft assured him and got out of the armchair, grabbing a blueprint on one of the lab's tables and unfoiled it, showing it to Lawrence.
"See this?" he asked. "This is our first big operation."
"...A personality core from Portal?"
"No, polyester-brain. I call it 'The Cloak'. What you see here is the blueprint for a drone able to hover at high altitudes, equipped with a camera with a variety of modes, including X-ray and heat vision, and a powerful enough zoom to observe ground activity in great detail. In addition to that they contain a number of weapons and tools, like missile launchers and machine guns, and they are self-sustaining, with a regenerative energy source. And of course, they have a cloaking device I've developed that hides them from the naked eye as well as radars and the like. I intend to build thousands of these, several in every block, forming a cloak of them hovering above the city. That's why I call it 'The Cloak'. It's a play on that and the fact that they have cloaking devices. But anyway, with these I will be able to control the entire city. Just imagine, I'll be able to survey any and all activity, and at my command I can rain down hell in the form of missiles, bullets and perhaps also bombs and lasers wherever I want. Like, say I find myself cornered by a shitload of cops, and then, surprise! With the press of a button, the dozen drones in the nearby area launch a bunch of missiles all over their sorry asses! As the project draws closer to finishing, I will gain more and more of an advantage in every dangerous situation in the city, and once it's complete, I will rule this place! Who would be able to rise up against someone who sees everything and can annihilate anyone to oblivion if they step out of line?!"
Willcraft originally had more to say about his brilliant plan, but stopped when he realized that Lawrence wasn't paying attention and was instead still chuckling about "naked eye". As such he resorted to glaring at him with an "are you fucking kidding me" look on his concealed face.
When Lawrence was finally done appreciating the hilarity of a statement Willcraft had probably made 1-2 minutes ago, he asked: "So how many of these have you built already?"
"None," Willcraft said. "That's the problem: As I said, I want these drones to have self-sustaining energy sources. I have managed to develop a prototype power core that theoretically can run at almost full power until the end of time, or at least tens of thousands of years. However, I lack the materials for constructing thousands of these. And as I want thousands of drones, and expect to use the same power core for any robot I may build in the future, I need to gather a lot of material. A lot of hard to come by and mostly illegal material."
"...Wait, lemme stop you right there. You've invented a battery that lasts forever and can power one of those pretty energy-costly-sounding machines you just described?"
"...You do realize that if you hadn't become a supervillain, you could have been a billionare inventor by now? Like, you've literally solved the whole planet's energy issues right there. No more power plants needed, all you need are some of those things generating all the electricity and bam, eco-friendly infinite energy. Not to mention all these gadgets you've built, some of those are probably worth millions."
"It's not about the money, metalhead. It's about the... the EVIL. It's about harming the status quo, about chaos, about driving your enemies into submission, about having your way with everything and everyone!"
"Are you aware that literally all of those are possible and to some degree excercised by people with lots of money?"
"Shut up with your capitalism, you money-whore. Now listen to the plan: I know of a military research facility outside town that has the resources I require. Not in the quantities I need of course, but it's an excellent start. Should at least let me get a few hundred or maybe even thousands of drones up and running- Oh, it's her! She's on TV!"
Willcraft was distracted from his evil rant by the TV, eagerly leaping back into the armchair and clasping his hands, listening politely to the news reporter.
"There have been another incident that the police expects to be the work of the vigilante that has gotten the nickname "The Hangman". This individual has never been directly observed, but their way of operating makes it easy to recognize when they've most likely been involved. This time we have yet another known criminal who has been found hanged in a public place. We again wish to inform sensitive viewers that the footage that follows is of a graphic nature."
"Always with the fucking sensitivity and horrifying imagery..." Willcraft muttered. "We get it, freaky shit happens on the news."
"As you can see, the victim was found hanging from a lamp post in a local park," the news reporter continued. "The victim has been identified as Sharkface, a crimelord known since previously by police. The details of the crime are still unknown, but as mentioned it is speculated to be the work of The Hangman. If you have information about the incident or about The Hangman, please report to the police."
"She's not called The Hangman, you imbelices..." Willcraft said. "She's just letting you call her that because she wants to stay hidden. If I were her I would right the misconception and make my real name known to the public, but then she was always more secretive than me... My precious..."
"You got a boner for your ex again?" Lawrence asked, reminding Willcraft that he was still present.
"What can I say, she's effective. Gets the job done and leaves no clues or even messages. Just ambigious corpses displayed for bypassers to see. I like it. It's intimidating and mysterious."
"You do realize she's a superhero, though?"
"She's a vigilante. That's different. It's more of an antihero. I mean hell, she kills people and strictly avoids the cops. She's as much of a criminal as me. Just on the wrong side of the ideology spectrum."
"Isn't that why she dumped you?"
"She didn't dump me," Willcraft muttered, quickly getting increasingly annoyed with his sidekick. "We just... broke up. I wanted to be a villain, and I trusted her enough to tell her about it. She didn't... agree with that. Wished to become a hidden servant of justice. Doing the work most heroes won't. Our goals in life just clashed too much. So we went our separate ways."
"And now she's our nemesis."
"Not really nemesis, she's just... foiled my plans a few times."
"She's totally gonna become our nemesis later at least. I mean, it's set up perfectly. Used to be friends, even dating, and then you went separate ways and became a villain and a hero. You're sooo gonna be archenemies at some point."
"You're wrong. No such thing will happen. I know she still loves me. She loves me just like I still love her. She just needs to see past the criminally insane sociopath in me. And she will... Mark my words... Once I've taken over this city and she has nothing left to fight for, once she has lost... She will join me. I just know it. She will come crawling back, and I will gladly accept her as my queen!"
As Willcraft spoke he had gotten up from the armchair and was walking around the area making dramatic gestures, and Lawrence slowly backed out of the laboratory and closed the door, knowing that his boss was about to break out into a villain song.