the villain

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Rwby villains Swim Shoot from Colossalcon 2015! Photographer: RudiBPhotography Neo: sheezyshacks (under the same username for facebook,instagram, and twitter!) Emerald: bombshell-yangarang Cinder: virgoshappyplace Roman: Paradigm Shift (viia fb)

In a small corner of one of the more rad corners of the Southeast Caribbean, there is a tiny island called Cariascous, which is french for “flatulent snake.” Cariascous is utterly insignificant and not worth mentioning, save for the dormant volcano located at its center, which houses the homebase of one of the most nefarious criminal organizations in the world: Terrordoom, Inc.

Though the exterior of Terrordoom HQ is all obsidian snakes and razor wire, the interior is actually pretty nice: It’s well-lit, has an open office layout, is pleasantly air-conditioned, and even boasts a well-stocked candy wall and free beer on Thursdays. Terrordoom, Inc. knows that the secret to a well-oiled criminal-industrial complex is keeping the employees happy, and when your employees have to endure isolated working conditions, weekly gunfights with various espionage agencies, and leaking fluids that are, if we’re lucky, just radioactive, you have to pull out all the stops. Hence, snack wall. And free beer on Thursdays.

But luxury comes with a price, and that price is bureaucracy, and the junction between bureaucracy and convenience is where we meet our hero, Reggie “Skullcrusher” Harvey, senior explosives and scary noises technician at Terrordoom, Inc. One Thursday morning found him hunched over his desk, reading the scariest email he had ever received.

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This is Ben. He’s a old Joe that lived around here for a long time. And I do mean a long damn time. Well Ben here took care of my daddy and my daddy’s daddy, till he up and keeled over one day. Old Ben took care of me. Growing up the son of a huge plantation owner in Mississippi puts a white man in contact with a whole lot of black faces. I spent my whole life here right here in Candyland, surrounded by black faces. And seeing them every day, day in day out, I only had one question. Why don’t they kill us? Now right out there on that porch three times a week for fifty years, old Ben here would shave my daddy with a straight razor. Now if I was old Ben, I would have cut my daddy’s goddamn throat, and it wouldn’t have taken me no fifty years to do it neither. But he never did. Why not?

You see, the science of phrenology is crucial to understanding the separation about two species. In the skull of the African here, the area associated with submissiveness is larger than any human or other sub-human species on planet Earth. If you examine this piece of skull here, you’ll notice three distinct dimples. Here, here and here. Now if I was holding a skull of a… of an Isaac Newton or Galileo, these three dimples would be in the area of the skull most associated with creativity. But this is the skull of old Ben, and in the skull of old Ben unburdened by genius, these three dimples exist in the area of the skull most associated with servility.

Now bright boy, I will admit you are pretty clever. But if I took this hammer here and I bashed it in your skull, you would have the same three dimples in the same place as old Ben. Hey! Now lay your palms flat on the table top! If you lift those palms off that turtle shell table top, Mr. Pooch is gonna let loose with both barrels of that sawed off! There have been a lot of lies said around this dinner table here tonight, but that you can believe!