doc_evil | (no subject)

They have hidden high.

They have hidden low.

They have disguised themselves and assembled a small arsenal of random weapons from the forgotten corners of Milliways.

They had a brief delay when one of them had a bit of an existential crisis, but it's probably best to ignore that if one doesn't want to be dunked in magma.

They have come out today prepared, nay eager, for a confrontation. One way or another, this will end.

Or maybe they just want some ice cream. It's a toss up, really.

Doctor Evil, black paint smeared under his eyes and a new quasi-futuristic camouflage suit on his person, crawls out of a paneled hole in the wall and looks around the bar before beckoning for Mini Me to follow. His magnificent clone in 1/8 form is similarly clad and drags a heavy knapsack behind him. The Little Guy fixes his beady eyes on Bar and makes a series of complicated gestures at the Doctor.

"What? Go three steps sideways and wed a chicken?"

Doctor Evil purses his lips.

"Yeah. No idea what you're saying."

Threaded | Flat

The Little Guy sighs, because...it could not possibly be clearer what he's just instructed Doctor Evil about. But rather than get angry at the doctor, The Little Guy tries again.

He points at himself. Me.
He points at Doctor Evil. You.
Two child-sized orange fingers wiggle slowly. sneak.
He turns and points at Bar, and then in a wide arc over. Behind Bar.

Yes? Good?
Let's go!

But before there can be confirmation the Little Guy is off, the giant-to-him bag of goodies dragging behind him.

He doesn't move in a straight line, but rather strafes as if he's taking active fire.