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The Apple Juice Lounge was the neutral territory for all the crime syndicates within Applyburg and Lollyhaven. A classy establishment located on the coastline where the Lolly River poured into Applyburg Bay, the rooftop lounge had seen many secrets change nonexistent hands. Deals had been struck, alliances made, contraband exchanged, karaoke sung. A team of bulking potato security guards ensured that the restaurant maintained its tense peace
Around nine o'clock one evening, the carrot attendant at the coat check stopped a pair of customers as they exited the elevator.
"You'll have to check those, sir," she told the broad-shouldered cucumber, nodding her head toward the pair of plungers on his purple helmet. "No weapons allowed in the lounge."
The cucumber halted and shot her a tight smile. "But of course."
He nodded to his companion, a tall, thin asparagus in a suit who promptly plucked the plungers from their slots, disconnecting them from the tethering cord.
"The belt too, sir," said the carrot.
Again, the cucumber stiffly complied and undid his belt, passing it to the asparagus, who dropped the items onto the counter. The two men then allowed a potato security guard to search them. Once finished, the guard stepped back to let them enter a dining room with tastefully dim chandeliers and flickering candles in bowls on each table. In one corner a pea provided soft music at a grand piano, slightly masking the murmuring conversations of various vegetables in spread-out tables.
The carrot maître d' greeted the cucumber and the asparagus as they approached his station, and he asked if they had a reservation.
"It should be under LarryBoy," said the cucumber.
The carrot bowed his head. "Right this way, sir."
"Is my expected party here yet?" asked LarryBoy.
"Not yet, sir."
The maître d' guided them to a private, windowless, circular room with a round-seated booth that allowed its patrons to face each other without exposing their backs to the single door. The asparagus remained standing, but LarryBoy took the left-hand end seat and ordered the house's signature drink. A server soon returned with a platter bearing gourmet apple juice in a juice box.
"Not much longer now, Alfred," LarryBoy chuckled to his asparagus butler when they were alone once more. "I can practically see Alvin's days getting numbered."
"The Dark Crow hasn't agreed to an alliance yet, Master Lawrence," Alfred reminded him.
"Oh, he will," answered LarryBoy, settling against the backrest. "I'll convince him."
"Yes, but, just in case…" Alfred lifted his lapel and withdrew a thin stack of white cards from an interior pocket, which he then passed to the cucumber.
LarryBoy quirked his masked eye ridge. "What's this?"
"Flash cards," Alfred replied. "I took the liberty of writing down convincing arguments on the chance you need help while you're dealing with the Dark Crow."
LarryBoy snorted, unceremoniously dumping the cards on the seat beside him.
"I'm a supervillain, not a little kid, Alfred," he answered with a toss of his head. "Now, pass me my juice box."
They did not wait long before the maître d' showed in a short, unsmiling grape and a pair of turnips in sunglasses. The grape wore an armor-like super suit made to resemble a crow, with a gold beak-like visor, and a long purple cape that often acted like wings trailed behind him. LarryBoy noted his missing utility belt which contained many crow-themed inventions, including mechanical talons that the grape used for hands.
LarryBoy cheerfully lifted his juice box as though in a toast. "D.C., you're looking well."
"Evening," he said with a bored glance and took the right-hand end seat across from LarryBoy.
Like Alfred, the turnips remained standing, close enough to answer the grape's beck and call. LarryBoy figured they must have been part of the legion of root vegetables in the employ of the supervillain, Selfish Simon the Onion. The Dark Crow was Simon's right-hand grape and recently named heir of the onion's far-reaching criminal empire.
After taking Dark Crow's drink order, the maître d' left them alone, and the two supervillains regarded each other.
LarryBoy had met the Dark Crow back when they had attended a supervillain workshop hosted by the infamous Bok Choy. Although the grape could be stand-offish, he was a good ally once he became committed to a big heist or conspiracy, and LarryBoy knew he could count on him if he caught the man's interest.
"So, D.C.," said LarryBoy, "did you ever get that fruit basket we sent you to celebrate your big promotion?"
Dark Crow grunted.
"You've come a long way, bro," the cucumber continued. "I remember when you were terrorizing the Scarecrow Brothers over in that podunk, Maisefield, and now you're one step away from being a top-tier crime boss."
"Life is an interesting corn maze, to use a Maisefield expression," replied the grape, "but surely you do not wish to discuss my personal history, LarryBoy."
"Straight to point, as usual."
LarryBoy took a sip of his appley drink, putting on a show of nonchalance.
"By now," he said, "you have probably heard that the supervillain formerly known as Awful Alvin is running around my city as a superhero."
Dark Crow frowned. "Alvin is dead to Selfish Simon, so I wouldn't breathe that freak's name this close to Lollyhaven, if you know what's good for you."
LarryBoy gave a breezy shrug. "But you sure made out like a bandit because of him, huh, D.C.? If Alvin hadn't gone legitimate, he would still be the crown prince of the Lollyhaven's underground, and you'd be taking orders from him as his faithful lackey."
The Dark Crow sat up. "You invited me here to mock me, LarryBoy?"
"Nope! Just expressing my admiration, from one supervillain to another," the cucumber answered. "I hear you did a great job helping Simon to run Alvin out of town. He won't dare to ever return to Lollyhaven."
"I would have done more than run him out," muttered Dark Crow, "but members of the hero underground got to him first."
LarryBoy smirked. "Wanna have another go at him?"
Dark Crow lifted an eyebrow. "Ah. I see we've come to the point of this meeting then?"
"You're a pretty sharp guy, D.C., just like when we were in Bok Choy's supervillain workshop together."
"Cut the flattery," replied his companion, "and get to the point."
Grinning, LarryBoy leaned forward, holding his former classmate's gaze. "You chased Alvin out of Lollyhaven. Maybe you'd be interested in helping me get him out of Applyburg, once and for all."
Dark Crow studied him, then let out a soft scoff.
"Alvin is nothing," he said. "A weakling mutant shouldn't give a supervillain so much trouble."
"Yeah, you'd think so," LarryBoy answered, narrowing his eyes, "but it isn't just a matter of punching a guy until he leaves town. I don't want to just finish Alvin off; that would just make him a martyr, and his birthday will be declared a town holiday. He has too good a reputation in Applyburg, and I want to destroy it."
Dark Crow lifted his eyebrow. "And what is that to me?"
"It spits on the face of every self-respecting supervillain; that's what it does," LarryBoy argued. "It tells the world that guys like us can be redeemed, like in one of those disappointing finales of cartoon shows where the villain becomes good at the last possible minute. Psychiatrists, social workers, and pastors are going to make it their personal mission to make each one of us good. Is that what you want?"
Dark Crow sniffed. "If they try it on me, they'll soon be proven wrong."
"But why deal with all that disrespect?" countered LarryBoy. "Once the masses see a hero get away with thwarting you, then it takes forever to get them to fear you like before."
"I doubt I'll have trouble making anyone fear me," replied his companion, "but then again I don't need my butler to teach me how to be evil."
"Oh, look who's turned comedian," LarryBoy retorted, swiftly tucking his stack of flash cards into his pocket beneath the table cloth. "Look, I don't want that onion in my city. He's spoiled one of my heists, and he's trying to lure my future evil empress to the light side. That's an insult to my honor as a villain."
Dark Crow nearly spat out his drink as an incredulous chuckle erupted.
"We're still talking about Alvin here, right?" he asked with gleaming eyes.
"Yeah."
Dark Crow rolled back in seat, snickering.
"Didn't know the freak had it in him," he said, shaking his head, "but if you're losing your girlfriend to a smelly onion with bad teeth and a pet lamp, that may be a sign of much bigger problems."
Alfred had to grab LarryBoy before he could lunge at the smirking grape.
"Stay focused, Master Lawrence," Alfred hissed. "You don't need to walk away with a worse enemy than Alvin."
"I can take him," LarryBoy muttered, but he sat back down. Stiffly, he faced the grape again. "Look, if you do me this one solid, I can make it worth your while."
His companion snorted. "Even if I wanted to waste my valuable time chasing after that freak, nothing you have can tempt me, Cucumber of Crime. Señor Simon's syndicate is worth more than your solo operation."
LarryBoy narrowed his eyes, looking like he would retort, but then a slow smile took over his green mouth. He leaned back and let out a soft, humorless laugh.
"You may be right," he said evenly. "Selfish Simon has been in this game for decades now, and he has amassed quite a lot of wealth and control. The heir of his empire is sure to be set for life."
"Exactly."
LarryBoy reached for his juice box and took a sip.
"But, you know," he continued after a moment, "Alvin was supposed to inherit everything Simon has. Simon took away his inheritance with a snap of his finger, but I bet, if Simon really wanted to, he could give everything back to Alvin just as easily."
"Señor Simon has no interest in having a do-gooder in his operation," sneered Dark Crow. "He recently disinherited his granddaughter, Deplorable Dora, just because she wanted to abandon supervillainy to become a regular civilian."
"But even hardened supervillains sometimes get sentimental when it comes to family," LarryBoy replied calmly. "Simon is getting on in years, and most of his relatives have passed away by now. What if he decides tomorrow that he misses his dear grandson and decides to reinstate him as his heir? Blood is thicker than water, you know — or, in this case, grape juice."
He grinned at Dark Crow, but the grape snorted in derision.
"You're trying to manipulate me? Seriously?"
LarryBoy shrugged. "But did I utter one lie?"
Dark Crow opened his mouth — and then closed it again. His eyes hardened with thought.
LarryBoy swirled his drink, amused with the grape's visible discomfort.
"You're an outsider, D.C., but Alvin is the only son of Simon's only son. How does a mere fruit compare to a root vegetable with, well, roots in Simon's world?" He sighed with a faux defeated expression. "But if Alvin were completely out of the picture, bridges crossed and burned, no take-backs, scorched-earth policy, then maybe you might be secure…"
Dark Crow pursed his lips and looked away.
"…I'll think about it," he said at last.
"You do that, pal." LarryBoy rose and adjusted his blue shirt. "Order whatever you want. It's on me tonight."
With that, he turned and headed for the exit with Alfred dutifully following after him.
THE END