Chapter Text
Sometimes you wonder how the most important life turns and big changes that divide your existence into "before" and "after" are the result of some tiny event, perhaps even a small accident, which then just starts pulling more and more new events, rolling up into a huge snowball over which you don’t have any control. And Eugene, for example, could not imagine in any way that not throwing into the trash a letter from some young man disappointed in humanity would become the catalyst for his personal "snowball", which already felt like ten meters in diameter.
This letter was strange. It was, in essence, a resume. But at the same time, the author poured so many of his personal thoughts and experiences into it that it looked more like a page of a personal diary accidentally sent by mail. The author did not delve into small details, only highlighting that "capitalism is the second worst invention of mankind after nuclear weapons" and "these bastards left me no other choice," a few paragraphs of adequate restrained text later adding "screw all those assholes." The text of the letter ended with a decent-sized blob in the place where the signature is usually located, and it was clearly squeezed out of the pen on purpose.
Eugene was not in the mood that day after a rather unsuccessful mission with the team, and he wanted to crumple up this emotional outburst and throw it into the trash after the envelope, but forced himself to stop and think. The author of the letter claimed that he graduated from the Department of Engineering Sciences at Oxford University, had a doctorate and decent work experience for government organizations, however, as follows from the other contents of the letter, his work experience did not end on a high note. There was a kind of despair coming from his words…
The sender of the message responded to an ad about the search for a scientist, which they left on a Villain Network Channel. After the previous scientist, who designed and assembled most of the equipment used by the Vicious 6, disappeared somewhere one day (in fact, Eugene assumed where exactly, and probably even in several parts, because this man managed to make a bunch of rather dangerous enemies on villainous part-time jobs), all this equipment was left without tech support. And this candidate, although it was already clear that he was a bit overly emotional, still had a fairly good track record. And putting aside all his snobbery, Eugene somehow tried to put himself in his shoes. What life should bring to an honest scientist who tried to work for the benefit of humanity, sent his resume to a criminal gang across the ocean?
Sighing and grumbling something displeased under his breath, he pulled the already crumpled envelope out of the trash and unfolded it in search of the sender's address.
***
The Vicious 6 were in a good enough account with the Bank of Evil to afford to fully cover the transportation and accommodation costs of their new henchman. However, he didn't ask for much after all. A guy from England has been in such a pennilessness to this moment that he just clung to the reply letter like if it was his last chance to survive. The handwriting of the agreement that came as a response to the job offer was noticeably shaky, his hands were literally trembling from the realization that the dark times in life might finally end.
On that day, heavy clouds hung over the city and there was a noisy downpour outside. The glass door with the sign "Closed for technical reasons" creaked and a small bell rang above it, notifying the only person who was inside the store at that time. Dusty shelves with records have not been wiped for a long time, and Eugene that was leaning on the counter thoughtfully ran his finger along the wooden tabletop, on which a barely noticeable trace from the touch appeared. When the door opened, he looked up. Belle Bottom was assigned to meet the newcomer from the plane, and she went in first with slightly wet shoulders, but completely dry, not disturbed by the rain, lush hair. She had already folded her long crimson umbrella and was busily leaning on it as on a cane. Still without uttering a word, she turned back and gave a meaningful chuckle, because the man following her at that time was actively fighting with his umbrella which jammed and did not want to fold in any way. Finally managing to fold it, he stumbled into the store, accidentally tripping over the threshold. Fortunately, he managed to keep his balance and quickly straightened up, putting the umbrella against the first counter he came across and firmly gripping the handle of his suitcase.
“Came to America, but the weather is still the same, a solid gray melancholy,” in the silence of the closed store interrupted only by the sound of rain outside, his words sounded a little loud and he shivered.
Eugene raised an eyebrow. After reading in a letter about an Oxford graduate with a doctorate, it was a little difficult to compare the mental image with the man who was standing in front of him right now. To say that he looked awkward is to say nothing. Despite the presence of an umbrella, he somehow still managed to get wet, and what was probably once a neat fringe on his head now looked more like the hairstyle of a chewed porcupine. His shoulders were slightly stooped, and from behind of round glasses slightly frightened eyes with bags under them looked at Eugene. Old man would not have dared to give him less than thirty-five years, but according to the letter and the attached documents, he was only twenty-seven. From Eugene's point of view, he could still call him a boy.
He finally stood up straight, pushed off from the counter and extended his hand to the newcomer in greeting.
“Well, welcome, Mr.…”
“Doctor,” the young man corrected him, forcing a nervous grin and raising his index finger for a second in an uncertain gesture. After clenching and unclenching his fingers a couple more times, as if processing what was happening, he finally returned the handshake and squeezed Eugene's palm, shaking it with an excessive effort.
“I'm sorry. Dr. Nefario.”
“It's nice to finally see you, Eug-“
“Wild Knuckles. You’d better call me that.”
“Okay,” newcomer’s voice started sounding even quieter and he bit his lip. "But if it's convenient for you... then you can just call me Joseph. I'm not asking for any honors, it all just feels a little unusual, a new place and new people and all of that stuff..." he looked around. “So… a record shop.”
“You'll be working here undercover. Now this is your place," Eugene - Wild Knuckles slapped the counter with his palm, raising a small cloud of dust from it.
“This place could use some cleaning up, huh?” Joseph said and almost immediately heard Belle Bottom chuckle again quite loudly from the side of the booth three.
“Then this will be the first thing you do on your new job,” she said in a cold tone, took the keys out of her pocket and threw them to the scientist almost across the entire shop. He started up, released the handle of the suitcase from his fingers and jerked forward, catching the keys a few centimeters above the floor. The suitcase lost the balance and crashed sideways with a loud noise.
“My Gosh,” Belle grinned, opening the booth and entering it, “you definitely shouldn't enter any villain clashes.”
“What do you mean?” Joseph straightened up and ran his hand over his tousled hair, as if this could somehow help to make it look normal.
"You're going to die first," she burst out laughing and hit a button somewhere out of his field of vision. Immediately, the booth, which turned out to be an elevator, noisily rushed down somewhere.
They were left alone. Eugene frowned and shook his head, catching the scientist's gaze which had become even more nervous than before.
“Don't listen to her. If you don't show up where you shouldn’t, you'll live to retire. Look at me.”
Joseph smiled faintly and turned the keys in his fingers.
“Thank you for responding to my letter.”
“It just seemed to me that it was a cry for help.”
“So, it turns out that there is virtue in villains too?”
Eugene snorted at the wording.
"As long as you keep your mouth shut and don't get caught by the cops, I won't have the motivation to treat you like shit. But it's better not to test the limits, buddy.”
Nefario put the keys in his jacket pocket and gave a mock salute.
Eugene couldn't help but admit that he began to feel sympathy for the newcomer right off the bat. The man looked a little lost, but at the same time not afraid of the consequences of such a powerful decision as going over to the evil side. Such a person needs either to be incredibly brave, or to be in a complete deadlock in life with the realization that he has nothing to lose. Most likely, Joseph's case belonged to the second option. He left his life in England behind in exchange for a chance to build a career in the United States. It was a daring move. Daring and absolutely crazy. And Eugene loved crazy people.