( This one is a lot dirtier than usual. )

Doctor Magma's lair-defenses are impressive, certainly. They would keep out just about anyone. They could hold off any of the world's militaries for months. But I'm not just anyone. I'm no army. I'm the Supremacist. I'm Magma's nemesis for a reason. All of this is just a minor obstacle in my way. He knows it won't hold me at bay for long. I tear ( Read more... )

It's not so much that I hear him, really; it's just that I'm suddenly aware that he's in the lab. Perhaps he's been here awhile and has decided to let me know it finally. But I do like to think (even vanity aside) that I'm not as clueless as I encourage everyone to think; the popular image of the oblivious scientific egghead is too useful a cover ( Read more... )

I dreamt that I was working on some sort of psychology paper (like for college, I guess). It was an extensive and deeply analytic thesis on the idea that there are fundamentally two kinds of people in the world ( Read more... )