"Valery's a fox, isn't he?" Dom says over breakfast, blowing steam off her black coffee with pursed lips. "I'd suggest having him over again for drinks if he wasn't so uptight. And clearly hiding something. I can't believe he skipped out before your dessert."

"He recognized the Buddha," Minion sighs, stirring his yogurt despondently. "I told you we should put away the most obvious trophies before we have civilian guests."

"Hm." Sipping her coffee, Dom looks at him thoughtfully. "You still think he's a civilian, doll? I got some pretty suspicious vibes. And he had, like, zero sexual energy. Been a long time since I've seen that."

Minion's stomach lurches. He knows this is the point at which he should probably just tell Dom everything he knows. But that would mean admitting he lost fights to a teenage girl and a dog, and that he knew about White Squall and still let Dom take the risk of inviting them over. Besides, he's got a plan. He can handle a teenage computer nerd who's part genetically modified chicken. He'll tell Dom what he knows once White Squall has been taken out of commission for good.

"Maybe not," he admits. "Shan still in bed?"

"She's sulking."

"I'm not sulking," Ishana mutters, tightening the belt of her robe as she shuffles into the kitchen, her eyes puffy. "It's perfectly reasonable to be upset that after making things super awkward for me by inviting Wynter and Valery over, you went and scared them away by being your weird selves."

Dom smiles at her and ignores everything she said. "You're up in time for your Big City College tour."

"As if I would miss that." Ishana rolls her eyes, reaching for the cereal.

"Of course. How silly of me to think you might consider other options for your future. I'm sure the tour will be thrilling. And what are your plans for the day, doll?"

"Got a job tonight." He's very glad that he never told her about that whole retirement thing. That would make for some awkward explanations right about now.

Dom sighs. "I can't wait until I'm out there again, too. Soon. My plans are coming together."

"Those better not be illegal jobs or villainous plans," Ishana says, frowning at them while pouring milk into the empty bowl.

Dom gives her a level look. "That's quite an accusation, dear."

"I don't hear you denying it." Ishana adds the cereal to the milk.

"Because it's so absurd it doesn't warrant denial. Is that what you really think of your parents? That we're low-life criminals?"

"Why won't you tell me what you do, then?" Ishana demands. "I'm old enough to understand all the financial stuff."

"I don't want to burden you with the details," Dom says benevolently. "Enjoy the ignorance of childhood while you can. You'll have to grow up soon enough."

"I'm not a child."

"Of course not, dear." Dom swallows the last of her coffee and presses to her feet. "Doll, if you get a chance before your job, could you look at fixing the bedroom window? That tarp was driving me crazy in the wind last night. It would be just lovely to have a non-broken window again."

"Sure thing, babe."

On her way by, Dom drops a kiss on Ishana's hair. Ishana watches her swish away with narrowed eyes.

"Your mother and I love you very much, sweetheart," Minion says.

Ishana sighs loudly. "I love you, too, Dad."

Soon... At the bottom of the secret elevator.

When Minion presses his thumb to the pad and the door to the lair swishes open, Eddie is waiting for him. He jabs his nose right into Minion's crotch.

Wincing, Minion shoves the dog off. "Yes, yes, calm the fuck down. We're going for a walk. Have some patience. Stay."

Eddie flops his butt down as the door hisses shut. Minion strips out of his pajamas and closes his eyes. Four of him, each a foot shorter, open their eyes. Minion One begins barking orders.

"Two, Four. Take the animal to get some exercise before he drives us all crazy. And fix the bedroom window while you're at it. Dom's getting impatient. Three, stay with me. Let's talk strategy."

"Wow, who died and made you the boss?" mutters Minion Four.

"This is a critical situation!" Minion One shouts. "At any moment, Valery could be telling his reporter friends to investigate us. Or worse, White Squall could do it herself!"

"Okay, okay. We get it. Calm down." Minion Four throws open the wardrobe and tosses a set of coveralls at each of them.

"Are you sure it's safe to take the dog outside?" Minion Two asks dubiously, eyeing the hairy beast who sits panting happily in the midst of them, looking from one to the other with hopeful eyes. The fearsomely furry creature doesn't seem to want to accept that they just don't like him. Since he recovered from the chicken-bone trauma it's only gotten worse, like he thinks Minion saving his life means they're friends now.

"Yeah, Dom and Shan just left. You're good."

Shhrrk. Minion Three zips up his coveralls. "We're trying to draw attention, right? I'm thinking a big explosion will do the trick."

"We need to try some non-lethal options first if we don't want Ishana to murder us in our sleep," Minion One says impatiently.

Finding a rope, Minion Two ties it onto Eddie's collar. "Let's go, Four."

The animal-control team makes their way back to the elevator, Eddie trotting eagerly at their heels.

"Okay, so here's what I'm thinking," Minion One says to Minion Three. "We both know when Valery said app he means Henchr. You couldn't get two villains to agree on which food delivery or weather app to use, but everyone uses that stupid matchmaking app. You gotta give the kid credit. It's kinda genius. When you make a Henchr posting you explain the job, including the place and time. If Wilted Salad is running the app--"

"We've used that one before."

"What?"

"Wilted Salad. We've called her that before."

Eddie lets out a bark that almost sounds like laughter, and Minion One throws his hands up. "Well, I'm sorry I'm running out of clever wordplay involved words that start with W, okay! It's a hard letter! That's not the point!"

"Sorry."

"You should be." Huffing, Minion One straightens his collar. "As I was saying, if Withered Squid--" He glares at Minion Three, who holds up his hands placatingly, grinning. "--created Henchr, then she probably has access to all that information we post there, right? So instead of showing up randomly at a crime scene, she can pick and choose the newbie villains or the ones who will be weak to her chicken-induced talents. Which means all we have to do to lure her in is to make a posting as an amateur villain with a brand new account, and pretend to hire ourselves for a job."

"So glad you're explaining this to me after we literally stayed up all night thinking about it."

Minion One narrows his eyes. "Okay, whatever. I'll make the posting. You work on the arsenal."

Saluting sarcastically, Minion Three says, "Whatever you say, boss." Then, a little louder. "Play Getting Ready Playlist." Heavy guitars and frenetic drums rock out from hidden speakers.

As Minion One pulls out their phone, Minion Three strides across the room to the left-hand wardrobe and flings it open. Inside, a colorful array of costumes crowd the rack. Before Henchr made everything more fluid, most villains wanted their minions to wear costumes that complemented their own villainous attire, like a uniform for a football team of morally bankrupt players. If a villain rebranded or, better yet, died, Minion usually got to keep the suits he wore. Sometimes he kept them when he quit, too, just because stealing from his own boss seemed like the properly evil thing to do.

His collection includes dozens of costumes. Some are armored, some knife-proof, some made of high-tech camouflage material. All of them have really questionable styling that is highly recognizable. He doesn't want any of his old bosses who might still be alive to sue for copyright infringement if his antics show up on the news. And the last thing he needs is any of his henchbuddies recognizing him out there pretending to be a true villain. No, wait, the last thing he needs is for Dom to recognize him.

Sorting through the clothing, he takes pants from one set of uniforms, shirts from another, hoods from a third, and boots from a fourth. He throws in a smattering of body armor, too. Combined, the pieces create five more-or-less matching sets that don't resemble any particular villain's style. The sixth uniform is the same navy blue and acid green, but improved by a little extra flair.

Satisfied, Minion Three moves on to the wall of weapons. Naturally, he zips straight to the massive explosives safe and starts sorting grenades. "Could use some help here. You got the job set up yet or what?"

Scowling at the phone screen, Minion One says, "I can't figure out how to log out of the Minion account."

With a loud sigh, Minion Three goes over to help him sort out it out.

Meanwhile... In the spacious backyard.

Clouds skate across the sun, throwing the yard into shadow. Minion Two is up the ladder, chipping the last glittering shards of the broken window out of the frame. Under the big tree, Minion Four stoops down and hefts a stick as long as his forearm. Eddie dances back, somehow dainty despite his massive size, huge paws soft on the ground. Ropes of drool spool down from his wobbly jaws as he hyperventilates with excitement.

Winding up as though for a baseball pitch, Minion Four chucks the stick as far as he can. Which is, in fact, very far. Eddie gallops after it, ears flopping, tail waving. The stick sails all the way over the pool, across the expansive green lawn, and flumps to the ground just shy of the tennis court. A moment later Eddies skids to a halt, scooping up the makeshift toy and turning around in one smooth motion to come barreling back.

With a groan, Minion Four wrestles the stick from the dog's jaws. "You are exhausting."

Tap tap tap. Minion Four's head whips up. In the rustling shade of the leaves overhead are the woodpeckers. His nemesis.

"You know what would be super fun?" he says to Eddie. "If you chased those woodpeckers instead."

Eddie pants happily at him, tail wagging.

"No, I'm serious. Didn't those stupid heroes train you? Birds are way more fun to chase than sticks. Look--" He hurls the stick into the tree. TAK. It hits the trunk beside the birds, who whirl into the air, cawing with laughter. Minion points at them. "Get the birds, Eddie!"

Eddie's beady eyes follow the feathery demons. He lopes forward, then rears up onto his hind legs like an enormous, shaggy bear. And then he opens his jaws and a jet of drool shoots out. The stream of saliva slams into the woodpeckers, knocking them to the ground, one, two, three. They shriek pitifully, then fall silent.

Minion Four stares, open-mouthed. "What the fuck?"

Carefully, he moves over to inspect the fallen birds, but they're gone. All that's left is a pile of goo, into which several dark feathers dissolve as he watches. Eddie pants happily beside him, tilting his head. Minion Four pats him absently. "Good boy."

Eddie lets out the happiest of happy barks.

"Will you stop playing with that dog and come help me get the new glass in!" Minion Two yells.

"Uh. I think you'd better come see this first."

"What?"

"The woodpeckers."

Minion Two thumps over and squints up into the tree. "Where?"

Minion Four points at the oozing, gooey, faintly pink remains of the woodpeckers, which are now soaking into the thirsty dirt. "Eddie dissolved them."

"He dissolved them?"

"Yeah, look!"

Eddie tilts his head proudly.

Minion Two scoffs. "How stupid do you think I am? That's just a puddle of slobber"

"No, dumbass. I mean it is, but it's also the birds. He like..." Minion Four gestures helplessly as though miming vomiting. "His drool. He shot it. Like a fucking dragon, man. Look." Minion Four pulls a communicator out of his pocket and sets it in front of Eddie. "Get it, Eddie."

Obediently, Eddie opens his jaws and expels a spray of spit. The liquid hisses against the surface of the device. Pits appear. The holes grow all the way through the metal, edges hissing. Moments later there's nothing left but a faintly steaming pile of silver liquid. Minion Two blinks, speechless.

Eddie barks twice, tail sweeping the grass. Minion Four reaches over and scratches him behind the ears. "Good boy."

"So... We can do something with this, right?"

Later... Back in the lair.

Minions Two and Four return to find Minions One and Three still hunched over the app whose perplexingly friendly green-and-yellow interface makes a lot more sense now that they know a hero made it.

"Look, we just need to fill out the job details--"

"No, you idiot, first we have to complete our profile."

"We're literally just pretending to hire ourselves. We don't need to put down our hobbies."

"But if we don't put something in all the fields it won't let us create a job, you nitwit!"

Minions Two and Four exchange glances and silently agree not to interfere. Instead, they get themselves beers and sprawl out on the couch. Eddie curls up by their feet and puts his tail over his nose. Immediately, he begins to snore.

"There's a new episode of Ultimate Showdown of Masked Fighting," Minion Four suggests, reaching for the remote. Minion Two smacks it out of his hand.

"Don't draw their attention. Do you wanna give One a reason to give us more orders?"

"Well, I need to do something to calm down! I'm a little anxious, okay! We're about to do the stupidest thing we've ever done in our life."

"Your anxiety is giving me anxiety. You just need to get off or something."

"Okay, that's-- A good idea, actually."

"Happy to help."

Minion Two sets his beer firmly on the table, then leans over and kisses Minion Four exactly the way he likes it, sweet as vanilla and sharp as a gunshot wound to the neck. From the hidden speakers, the vocalist screams an impassioned chorus as they hastily unzip their coveralls.

Even later still...

In focused silence, six Minions dress in their new uniforms. Pants on, bulletproof jackets buttoned, hoods hiding their balding scalps. Minion One puts on the suit with the winged shoulder pads, green goggles, and knee-high boots, marking himself out as the leader. There was some arguing over who got to wear that fabulous costume. Minion Two has the black eye to prove it.

The music kicks into a frenzied drum solo, clashing and clanging climatically. Moving slowly, in unison, the Minions all settle masks over their faces.

They look at each other, making eye contact in one direction, then the other.

"Ready?" Minion One says.

Minion Two says, "What did you end up calling yourself?"

Minion One throws his extravagantly attired shoulders back and plants his fists on his hips. In a deep, impressive voice, he says, "Meet the newest villain in town, boys: Villain."

It takes a second for them to get it. Then the Minions all burst out into nefarious laughter.