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make some small talk.
    “I hear they
won’t let you in the Super Villain Club.”
    His face twisted
horribly. He grabbed the top of his head and began shouting: “Kill Maim
Frighten Destroy!”
    He began smashing
plates and glasses, tipped over a nearby serving cart, then pulled up a large
stretch of carpet. Then he seemed to get hold of himself. He coughed self
consciously.
    “Yes, well, I
didn’t really want to be a member anyway. Bunch of nonsense, kill destroy. Now,
Mr. Burly, I wanted to meet you, because I’m intrigued by your recent actions.
Not only did you not take part in the escape attempt by the other prisoners,
you actually helped foil it. Why?”
    “I wanted to talk
to you. I hoped you would see me if I helped you out.”
    “Very well. I’ve
seen you. What’s on your mind?”
    I explained that
for quite some time now he had been getting entirely the wrong impression about
me. That I was out to foil his plans or something. Few things could be farther
from the truth. Or further from the truth, I wasn’t sure which. Overkill didn’t
know which one it was either. We decided it didn’t matter. I said that though I
had originally been hired to stop him, I was now happily retired. So there was
no need for him to view me as an enemy. I wouldn’t harm a fly. I wasn’t the
enemy of a fly.
    “I find this
difficult to believe, Mr. Flying Detective. You broke up one of my robberies
just last week. You captured one of my generals. I have a picture of you with
your foot in his mouth.”
    I said it was an
accident. In fact, all of the robberies I’d ever broken up were accidents. I
was never trying to foil any crimes at all. I was just trying to screw the city
out of $1,500 a week. I explained my insurance company metaphor to him.
    He studied me for
awhile, then picked up the large gun next to his wine glass, and replaced it
with a slightly smaller gun. He was beginning to trust me.
    I noticed he had
a picture of me on the wall. I asked what it was for.
    “Ever since you
started meddling in my affairs, I’ve been studying your picture to try to get
inside your mind, to figure out what makes you tick, so I could find a way to
defeat you.”
    This was
interesting to me. “What did the pictures tell you?”
    “Well, at first
they told me: ‘Hey, this guy is stupid,’ but I knew that couldn’t be. So I got
a different picture of you. A side view, of you looking at something off
camera. That picture gave me a different insight. I looked at that and thought:
‘Hey, this guy sees all.’”
    “I’d like to get
a copy of that 2 nd picture.”
    “I’ll have one
sent to your dungeon.”
    “Thanks.”
    As the dinner
progressed, Overkill became more and more convinced that he had been mistaken
about me. The gun next to his plate kept getting smaller and smaller until
finally it was replaced by a big knife.
    “This is
pleasant, getting together like this, don’t you think?” asked Overkill.
    “Very enjoyable.”
    “We must do this
every couple of years. You’ll join me for dinner, we’ll talk, then, it’s back
in the hole.”
    “Count me in.”
    “Friends do dine
with each other on occasion. And I want us to be friends.”
    “As do I.”
    “Friends do
things for each other, too. I’d like to demonstrate my friendship for you,
Frank. For example, do you like your guard?”
    “Well, not
really. He’s poking me in the back with his bayonet. He’s been doing it all
through dinner. It’s probably going to leave a mark.”
    Overkill turned
to one of his men and pointed at my guard. “Kill him!”
    The guard was
struck down and quietly dragged away. Overkill looked at me. There was only one
thing to say at that point and I said it: “Hey, thanks.”
    We went on with
our dinner. The food was good, but it seemed kind of ordinary for a super
villain’s table. I mentioned this in my tactful way, and he looked
uncomfortable.
    “Yes, I suppose
the food should be more exotic for a man in my position.