You are aware of the trio of WOOHP spies almost before they cross the outermost boundaries of your domain. Laser tripwires alert you to their presence as they silently, skillfully approach your secret compound. Three agents, each a young woman clad in a skintight bodysuit. Three agents who are somewhat familiar to you. You watch through fuzzy CCTV screens as the trio bypass alarms, sentry patrols, and even hidden landmines all on the approach to your secret lair. You knew that this day was coming. You can't exactly get in to the villain game without attracting the ire of organizations like WOOHP. Still you never expected them to send their A team.
The three teenage agents are familiar to you. Sam, Alex, and Clover, the three top agents of WOOHP. Teenage girls practically bred to be perfect super spies. Sam is the brains of the group. The analytical redhead has a genius mind, and a body to match. You watch as she relays some order to her two companions and the three of them scale a hidden drainage pipe by the rear of your compound. How she saw or learned about the hidden entrance is a mystery, but her canny wits have helped the team bypass a good chunk of your defenses.
"That won't do. Can't let them get too far unopposed," you say with a chuckle as you sound the alarm and let your army of henchmen know that there is an intruder in the base. By the time the three spies make it up and out of the drainage pipe, nearly 2 dozen of your hired goons have them surrounded. Though your men are big, and fairly trained, you know that this is simply a delaying action. WOOHP agents are in a league of their own.
"Looks like the sneaky bit is done, girls! Time for action!" the brown skinned one says as she leaps at your nearest man with a flying kick. Alex, the athlete of the group. From the sparse intel you have on these agents, the girl is a bit of a dunce. Not stupid, but gullible, naive, foolish perhaps. Though she more than makes up for that shortcoming with sheer physical prowess. Strong, flexible, quick, and unpredictable. She moves with the ease of a panther or gazelle, fully sure of her own abilities. You watch as she takes on 4 men at once, ducking punches and delivering cartwheel kicks with an almost superhuman ease. Her teammates Sam and Clover are no slouches in the physical department, but it is clear that the dark haired beauty is the queen of athleticism. Your men struggle, fighting valiantly, but the skills of hired goons just can't compare with the abilities of three top WOOHP agents.
In minutes, your goons lay incapacitated on the floor and the three latex-clad girls continue on, infiltrating deeper and deeper into your base. Though your goons have been defeated, you are still not worried. Your defenses are as deep as they are intricate. "Release the mechanosaur!" you scream to one of the goons manning a station in your magnificent control center.
"Yes!" the goon answers through his gasmask-covered face as he pulls a large lever. You turn back to the view screen just in time to see the three spies run head first in to your second line of defence. The three girls stop in their tracks as they come face to face with your 30 foot long, genetically enhanced, cybernetically altered komodo dragon. Your magnificent mechanosaur! A chuckle rises in your throat as you prepare to watch the inevitable slaughter.
Your mechanically enhanced monster is a marvel of evil genius. The spies are trapped in the hallway with your ravenous beast and it seems for once that your efforts are a match for their skills and gadgets. The trio scamper away from its mighty tail swipes and poisonous bites. You can't help but cheer as it sprays them with bio acids and tosses them about like cloth dolls. Sam's mind has little time to formulate a plan, and Alex's athleticism only allows her to dodge your beast's mighty strikes. After a minute or two it seems like your beast has the upper hand. The three girls look a bit battered and their latex suits are worn and torn in places. Victory seems just in hand when Clover speaks up.
"Girls! Girls, give me your bubbleguns!" Clover yells out as she ducks under a tail swipe. The two other spies do as she says, and you watch as Clover haphazardly straps the three glue guns together using her belt. The guns are useless against your beast, as it is far too large to be affected by the sticky bubbles the guns shoot. Her plan is lost on you, until she places the bundle of guns on the ground, and baits your mechanosaur to strike. Your teeth grind together as you watch your plans fall apart. Your mechanosaur strikes at Clover with its tail, only to rupture the three bubbleguns. The glue-like ammo within the gadgets explodes outwards and covers your mechanosaur in a thick layer of hot pink glue. It screams out in rage and writhes pitifully as the glue binds it in place and removes any threat it might pose to the three teenage spies.
"Hey, quick thinking, Clover! How did you manage to think of that?" Sam asks as the three catch their breath and watch your billion dollar guard lizard wriggle in the sticky glue trap.
"I was just thinking about how annoying it was the last time I got gum in my hair. It took hours to get it all out," Clover answers with a laugh as she cocks her hip and strikes a confident pose, almost like she knows you are watching.
You slam a fist down on the side of your chair in rage. No one has ever managed to penetrate your defenses to this degree. They've bypassed every trap, every minion, every obstacle, even your beast. You can see on the screen as the three super spies race down the corridor to the very control room you sit in. In less than 2 minutes they will be here. Things look dire. If the three get their hands on you, then you'll likely be spending a very long time in international super prison. Still, you wouldn't be an internationally wanted super criminal if you didn't have one last trump card up your sleeve.
"Prepare the Fall of the Alamo Protocol," you say to your remaining minions, the ones who man the stations at your control hub. You stand and straighten your clothes, taking a moment to make sure you look presentable. Win or lose, it won't do to look less than super.
"Sir, the Fall of the Alamo, is that wise?" one of your men asks, fear evident in his voice. And he is right to be fearful. The Fall of the Alamo is your very final option. The last move you have, and the last one you want to have to rely on.
"Yes, initiate the protocol. I have guests to entertain," you say as you head out the double doors and go to meet the three spies that have come to stop your evil schemes.
The three latex clad teens rush in to the room, likely unaware that this is your final sanctum. "Welcome, girls! Sam, Alex, Clover. You did well to get this far," you say as several spotlights turn on and illuminate the three girls. The room is vast. 20 vertical feet and several layers of steel catwalk separate you from the three spies, but they are still far too close for comfort. You still need at least a few minutes to initiate the Fall of the Alamo. You'll need to stall them.
"Wait... you're the villain? Not what I was expecting," Alex says as she lays eyes on you for the first time, obviously disapproving of some aspect of your person.
"Right!? Talk about a lame villain costume. Labcoats are SO last year!" Clover adds with a snarky sarcasm befitting her self-centered personality.
"Well, considering how basic the evil hideout was, are you girls surprised? A basic hideout means a basic villain," Sam adds, seemingly completely relaxed despite being in the very depths of your evil sanctum. You are a little taken aback as the three start to argue, chatting casually even as they stand mere feet away from an internationally wanted super villain.
"I mean, the robo lizard was pretty tough! Points there, right?" Alex says, playing devil's advocate and taking your side in the argument.
"Yeah, but it would have been better if they had used the robotic on the henchmen. 30 robo henchmen are better than one big robo lizard," Sam retorts after a moment.
Part of you wants to interrupt, but their bickering is giving you the time you need to prepare your final trump card. Every moment they spend talking is a moment that you get to use to charge up the Fall of the Alamo Protocol. In moments, one of your henchmen gives you a signal through your earpiece, telling you that your final option is ready.
"Ladies!" you shout out, yelling loud enough that you shake the three from their argument. The three latex clad teens once again focus on you, only now remembering the international villain they were sent to capture. "It has been interesting entertaining you all for the evening, but I think that our time together should end. No sense in prolonging the inevitable. Behold! The fall of the Alamo!" you yell out, raising your arms high in the air in a dramatic show as you signal for your henchmen to deploy your most deadly, most devious, most expensive piece of super villainy. The single thing that will stop these three super spies in their tracks, or so you hope.