The phone rang fifteen times before anyone picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Mortimer Peril?"
"Speaking. Wait a second. Is that you, Sutcliffe?"
"At your service. It’s been a long time, hasn't it?"
"Not nearly long enough. And whatever you called to ask me, the answer is no. Jesus, like I'd want to do you any favors."
"It’s not a favor for me, Mort."
"Oh?"
"It’s my protege. Johnny Jericho. He’s getting to that rite-of-passage stage, it’s about time he faced off in an Ultimate Battle Between Good and Evil."
"Good god, Sutcliffe, how cliche can you get?
"It's not a cliche. It's an ancient and honorable tradition."
"To-may-to, to-mah-to. Someone just did the Ultimate Battle Between Good and Evil last year around sweeps week, I think it was Captain Marvelous."
"And his nephew, the Junior Marvel. Johnny needs to top that if he's going to catch the public eye."
"Doesn't the public ever get bored with this shit?"
"It isn't shit, Mort. The people NEED the reassuring archetypes in their lives."
"The people need a good brain enema, is what the people need. So who gets to be Ultimate Evil in this little scenario?"
"Well, that’s where you come in."
"Don't be an idiot. I'm not an ultimate evil, the prosecutor says that about everybody."
"Come on, Mort. I have faith in you. You could be ultimate evil if you just tried hard enough."
"Well, it’s very nice of you to say that."
"So you'll do it?"
"No."
Click.
The phone rang four times, then the machine kicked on.
"Hello, you've reached the office of Lord Vile. If you'd like to order one of Lord Vile’s books or motivational cassettes, please press 1. If you'd like to book a speaking appearance or book signing in your city, press 2. For a list of scheduled upcoming appearances, press 3. If you think Lord Vile is sexy in a dangerous way, please hang up and dial the Simpering Fangirl Helpline at 1-800-592-2343. Or press 0 now to speak to an operator."
A sound that Sutcliffe had heard before, in the Pits of Black Despair, filled his ears - a sound he had hoped never to hear again. The most revolting smooth jazz in history. It carried on for quite some time.
"Thank you for calling the office of Lord Vile. All of our operators are busy at this time. Please continue to hold."
Lawrence Welk and all the demons of the nether realms covered "The Girl from Ipanema."
"Thank you for calling the office of Lord Vile. All of our operators are.."
"’Ello, office of Lord Vile. Miranda speakin’. To ensure customer satisfaction yer call may be recorded. ‘Ow can I help yeh?"
"Hello, my name is Sutcliffe."
"Yes? And ‘ow can I help yeh?"
"Norvell Sutcliffe."
"Yes, and ‘ow can I help yeh?"
"Don't you know who I am?"
"Nope, and if yeh claim to be Lord Vile’s long-lost blood relative I'm required to call the cops. 'ts a Policy."
"No, no, but Lord Vile and I go way back, and I'm looking for someone to help out with my protege’s Ultimate Battle between Good and Evil..."
"To book appearances and signings, yeh were supposed to press 2."
"You don't understand. I don't want him to sign his ruddy book, I want him to battle my protege in the Ultimate Battle between Good and Evil!"
"Lord Vile is respectfully declining all invites from ‘eroes at this time."
"Look, I just want to speak to him in person. We go way back."
"Lord Vile is respectfully declining all invites from ‘eroes at this time, thank yeh for calling the offices of Lord Vile, have a nice day."
Click.
The phone rang twice.
"Who are you? You're not on my caller ID."
"I've got it blocked to stop people from calling my secret hideout. Anyway, my named is Sutcliffe and..."
"Sutcliffe? Not Sutcliffe with the dreadful red and violet cape?"
"I wore the red and violet cape once. In ’94. It was for a crossover. Anyway, that’s not the point. My protege..."
"Has better taste in capes than yours, I hope."
"Actually he’s more of a trenchcoat and t-shirt type."
"Kids these days. Is he beefcake?"
"You're a pig, Alexis. If you even think about it I'll wring your scrawny neck."
"So no poaching your rough trade. Check. Is that all you called out of the blue to tell me, oh red and violet one?"
"No. Be serious here for a minute. My protege is rapidly approaching the age where’s he’s going to have to prove himself if he’s going to get any decent gigs when he graduates. I'm trying to set up an Ultimate Battle Between Good and Evil for him. But I'm having trouble selecting exactly the right Ultimate Evil."
"Having trouble getting anyone to accept, you mean. I had brunch with Mort today, he said you'd been in touch."
"This is really important. His whole future depends on it."
"And what’s the pay like?"
"Well, nothing up front. But if you win, you'll be in a position to take over the world, maybe the universe! You know how these things work."
"'If I win'. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha fuck you."
Click.
The phone rang three times, and he could hear the click of her nails on the receiver as she lifted it.
"Hello?"
"Hello. Erm, Malivola?"
"Norvell, what’s the matter?"
"Nothing, Malivola, I just have a favor I need to beg of you."
"If this is about custody of Mittens again, forget it. You're an unfit parent. You never clean the litter box. Besides, cats prefer evil, she's much happier here with me."
"No, no, no, it’s not that at all. It’s just that my protege needs an Ultimate Battle Between Good and Evil for his resume and I can't find an Ultimate Evil anywhere!"
"And you want me to be the Ultimate Evil? Wouldn't that be a little weird?"
"Weird how?"
"Well, he’s bound to find out that we used to be married. It would get all Freudian and messy."
"I'm doomed. He’s never going to get his Ultimate Battle, he'll end up asking ‘do you want fries with that’ in Cleveland, no one will ever ask me to be their mentor again."
"Look on the bright side. It cuts your risk of being killed by some rogue student trying to score high on his ESATs."
"I don't know anything but mentoring, Malivola, I can't go back into the hero racket at my age."
"Sheesh. Norvell, it’s really unattractive when you whine, did I ever tell you that?"
"Two or three times a day, at one point."
"Look, what can I say? No way I'm going to play Ultimate Evil to your protege, there’s a million reasons why it wouldn't work. Why don't you try calling the Junior Villains’ League? They need things like this for their resumes, too."
"I suppose I could give it a shot."
"Do that, Norvell."
Click.
Busy signal.
Busy signal.
Busy signal.
The phone rang twice, and as it was picked up a muffled voice hissed "If this is the pizza guy saying he can't find our lair again, one of you gimps can just go get takeout like I wanted to in the first place."
"Disgruntled Youth of America," the voice continued brightly.
"Sorry, I must have the wrong number."
Click.
The phone rang twice.
"Disgruntled Youth of America."
"I'm sorry, I'm trying to reach the Junior Villain’s League."
"That would be us. We changed our name in April. Got sick of the preppy connotations. Isabelle Mason speaking."
"My name is Norvell Sutcliffe, and I'm trying to find an Ultimate Evil for my protege, Johnny Jericho, to battle."
"Ultimate Evil was last year. Come on."
"Ultimate Evil is every year! And he really needs it for his resume, and anyway, who can judge what’s really the Ultimate Evil, when you get right down to it?"
"Don't wax philosophical with me, old guy, or I'll get testy."
"Come on. It'll be a good gig. Very cosmic."
"Cosmic?" The voice got muffled again. "Get a load of what I got on the phone. Some guy wants to set up an Ultimate Battle Between Good and Evil for Johnny Jericho."
"Johnny Jericho? The one with the mullet?"
"I think that one." The voice unmuffled. "Does this protege of yours have a mullet?"
"Look, I've been telling him to get a haircut for ages, but that’s pretty far from the point. This battle would look great on anyone’s curriculum vitae. I promise."
"Let me put you on speakerphone. Ok, go ahead and make your pitch to everyone, I can't stand to repeat something so corny."
"You laugh, but what exactly do you plan to put on your resumes?"
"Nothing with a big cheesy header saying 'Ultimate Evil'. Your modern evil needs to be subtle and maybe even a touch banal. You know what people are looking for in the evil business these days? Programmers. Not hackers but good solid programmers. And chemists and accountants."
"On the other hand, Johnny Mullethead should be pretty easy to kick around. When were you planning this Ultimate Battle for?"
"Well... I was thinking around Christmas, to add symbolic weight."
"I'm an atheist."
"I'm going to be in Boca Raton for a mad scientist’s convention."
"And who wants to fight an Ultimate Battle in the snow?"
"I can be flexible. What abut Easter? Lent? St. Lundgrun’s Eve?"
A doorbell rang.
"Hey, isn't that the pizza?"
Click.