Beneath the purple and black sky of her home dimension a beautiful white haired maiden stared miserably at an iron face mask. She considered destroying it but she knew that wasn't really what she wanted to do and it wouldn't make her feel any better. The idea of destroying the man it belonged to had a certain thrill to it but that idea fled her mind as quickly as the others. If she'd had any real intention of killing Michael Morningstar she would have done it months ago when she had him at her mercy. A frustrated sigh leaked from between her purpled lips. There had to be something that would make her feel at least a little better.
Something beside her barked then whimpered trying to get its mistress's attention. "Quiet Quartz." She didn't even turn her head towards the source of the noise. It continued barking for a few more seconds and then scampered off to whatever corner of the castle it had been sleeping.
Charm Caster lazily kicked her bare feet over her head still pondering what to do. She knew why she couldn't just go and kill Michael. If she did that she'd have to admit that she cared enough about him to get up and her massive ego wouldn't allow her to admit that to herself. She certainly wasn't going to do anything that would let the world know that she cared for that smug bastard. Her lavender gaze wandered back to the mask she held in her hand and a plan began to form.
Michael Morningstar lay on his back staring up at the florescent bulb that lit his five by nine slice of hell. When the Plumbers locked you up and threw away the key they meant that figuratively and not literally. Literally there was no key, there wasn't even a door to the room, only a single six inch high two foot wide slot that they fed him through. The inhabitants of Myk'dl'dy had no need for anything as pedestrian as doors, it was one of the reasons why they operated one of the most secure prison facilities outside the Null Void. They had tried locking Michael in the Null Void once. It hadn't stuck. It turned out that locking an energy vampire in a prison with all the most powerful beings in the universe was just as bad a plan as it sounded.
"Let me out!" He roared. He doubted that anybody could hear him but it helped him preserve his sanity to shout. Or perhaps it was just speeding up the degradation of what was left of his mind. He really couldn't tell any longer. Without doors, windows, clocks or television it was utterly impossible for Michael to even guess how long he'd been locked away. Even the lights didn't give him a clue because they were set absurdly enough to a motion detector. If he tossed and turned too much in his sleep it woke him, if he held still too long reading a book or contemplating his predicament they went off.
The only things in his room was a wood and cloth rack that was meant to serve as a bed and a dry toilet that simply opened into space. The only blessing he could count in his room was that they had taken the mirror away. He couldn't stand the sight of his face when he was weak like this. His loose gray skin and scraggly white hair was nauseating. His eyes looked like sinking into his skull and his lips pulled away from his teeth like a zombie from a horror flick.
One day they'd slip. It would only take one of them making a mistake for him to get out of this place and when he did he'd have his vengeance. He'd start by get eliminating Benjamin Tennyson, not because he hated him. He honestly barely noticed Ben most of the time but he had a habit of messing up his plans at the last minute and that was quite simply unacceptable. He'd take his time with Kevin Ethan Levin though. That freak should have more sympathy for someone like him, someone who knew what it was like to feel the insatiable hunger for power gnawing at the corners of your mind at all hours. He'd make sure that the vengeance he visited upon that miscreant became the horror stories told across three, no five galaxies. Finally there was Sweet Gwendolyn. He had something special in mind for her.
Dear Sweet Gwendolyn should have accepted his gracious offer of a life by his side. She was beautiful and her energy was delicious beyond compare. He could clearly remember the first time he'd tasted her power. What an incredible thrill it had been to be with her and if she refused to live by his side as his queen she'd live at his feet as his slave. Either way he would have what was his.
His thoughts turned from those three to the woman most responsible for his current imprisonment. Heather, Haley, Hannah. . .it was something with an 'h' in it not that he'd really cared much about the wench. She was nothing but a poor man's Gwen. Something like Salisbury Steak or hotdogs. The kind of meal you suffered through because not eating can become fatal rather quickly and you can't always afford filet Mignon. She'd been in the middle of helping him take over the Earth, a tiny bauble to a woman like her, ruler of her own dimension, but she'd been willing to take the time to help him get revenge on Kevin and his friends. Then they had somehow got into her head convinced her that it was important that he couldn't remember her name was Harley, Harmony, Harriet. . .something with an 'h' in it. She'd been perfectly happy being called Beautiful until then.
His thoughts were interrupted by a plastic tray sliding in through the door. Michael turned his nose up at the slop that they expected him eat. He had to remind himself that the Necrofriggians were some kind of enormous cockroaches and that was probably a perfectly good explanation for why their cuisine looked like something you'd dig out of a dumpster but he was human. Mostly. Human enough that he had a hard time even looking at that slop and a harder time keeping it down.
"Hey! Can I get something to drink?" He didn't care much more for whatever liquid they served in bowls, what he was hoping was that the guard would be careless enough to let him get a taste of energy. He was. She was. He hadn't really managed to get a handle on the gender of the ghost roaches yet. They all looked male to him though so he generally referred to them in the masculine. Except in his moments of rage and frustration. When he was frustrated they were worthless bitches, whores, cunts, sluts, harlots and pussies. Right now though he was just delicious.
It might take months or years but time was all it would take. Someday he'd have enough energy gathered from them to break out and when he did the world, no the universe, would experience the full measure of his wrath. When a pinkish portal appeared beside him and a pair of strange but familiar rock monsters emerged Michael rose to his feet and allowed them to escort him back through it. It wasn't confidence or bravery that allowed him to do it, it was a simple calculation on his part. He knew if Helen, Hermione, Hillary, what ever Ms.H's name was if she wanted him dead he'd know by being dead from a instead of being sent for.
Clearly she'd come to her senses and realized that while he was definitely slumming it to settle for her, he was the best thing that was ever going to happen to her. The thought brought a smile to his face, she might not be filet Mignon but she was quite a bit better than the slop the ghost roaches were feeding him and once he'd gotten his fill of her he could kick her to the curb, safely and on his own terms this time. Women were so predictable, it was a minor wonder his rescue hadn't come much sooner but Michael supposed it might take an ignorant wench some time to sort out her feelings or what not.
Charm Caster was waiting in her throne room when Michael arrived flanked by her rock monsters. She had put on a special outfit for the occasion, one he'd shown particular favor for during their time together. He'd told her that it was because the royal purple silk dress brought out her eyes. She'd hadn't believed that lie even when she was busy swooning over the handsome, smooth talking villain. He liked it for the same reason every man did. It was slit far enough past the hip that she couldn't wear anything beneath it and every step she took made that obvious. She'd chosen a pair of ankle high heeled boots to go with them and pulled out her silver tiara from storage. Charm Caster had little interest in the trappings of power but Michael craved it and as a final touch she pulled her waist length white mane back into a ponytail just like Sweet Gwendolyn.
His bulging eyes immediately went to her calves and worked their way upward stopping at her breasts. If he'd been another man she would have been disgusted with his behavior but Michael Morningstar's gaze hadn't stopped because he was enthralled with the neckline that plunged nearly to her navel. It left the same amount of mystery as to what undergarments she was wearing as did the slit. Michael had stopped there because he couldn't stand to have anybody see him like this. There was a very good reason why he normally wore that steel mask to conceal his face. She could understand not wanting anybody to see just how pathetic you felt and she could bury hers as deep as she liked, his weakness was actually etched onto his face.
