The lair of Necromortis, or as he preferred to be called by friends, just Morty, was a magnificent place for villainous deeds. Dark walls, towering laser cannons, and of course, his personal residence with burning edges. But today, no grand evil meetings were happening here.
Morty stroking his beard:
"Today… something's off. I feel like I'm missing something…"
Morty sighs:
"Right, these forms, these papers! Why do I need all this?!"
At that moment, his loyal assistant Greg, a small, clumsy monster with a tail, entered the room, holding a stack of papers.
Greg holding the papers out:
"Your Horrible Majesty, you need to sign these documents for the cloned army to start the city takeover!"
Morty looking at the papers, growls:
"Papers?! Seriously?! You see, I'm building a laser cannon here, and you're bothering me with paperwork?"
Greg:
"Well, you know, by the rules, to make the lasers 'legal', they need to be registered. And without these reports…"
Morty throws the papers aside angrily:
"Am I supposed to remind you that I'm Necromortis, the Dark Terror, the Destroyer of Fates?"
Greg quietly, almost apologetically:
"But… there are certain regulations…"
***
Moments later, Morty finds himself in trouble. Greta Forman, the accountant-auditor from the Villains' Association, walks into his lair. Two bodyguards follow her, looking more like ordinary office secretaries in suits.
Greta smiling as she surveys the room:
"Here I am. And I see, as always, the place is a complete mess, Morty."
Morty gritting his teeth:
"Greta! How many times do I have to tell you not to come here?"
Greta calmly:
"Well, you haven't filed any reports for the past five years. I think it's time to get everything in order."
Morty shocked:
"What?! Five years?"
Greta looking at the papers:
"Yes, your financial situation is… not great. Your army of dragons was listed as 'animals for an inclusivity program,' and you haven't explained the expenses for city destruction."
Morty yells in despair:
"Dragons are NOT 'animals for an inclusivity program'! This is a lie! I'm building an empire of evil!"
Greta calmly putting a stamp on the paper:
"Well, that doesn't matter if the documents aren't filed properly. How are you going to conquer the world if you haven't even submitted your tax declaration, Morty?"
Morty seething:
"Tax declaration? I'm supposed to—what?"
Greta with a smile, putting a stamp on another document:
"Without a stamp, it doesn't count, Morty. Even the most evil conspiracy is nothing without proper paperwork."
Morty exploding:
"But I'll kill you!"
Greta not looking up:
"You could try. But first, you'll fill out these forms and send them to the financial violations department. Otherwise, your precious laser cannon will be reclassified as 'unapproved property.'"
Morty squirming:
"Fine… Fine! Just don't take my cannon!"
Greta seriously, placing another stamp:
"Without a stamp, it doesn't count, Morty."
***
After an endless night of filling out forms, Morty realizes he spent more time on paperwork than on world destruction. That was his tragedy. Finally, he submits everything, and the next day, he gets a letter.
Morty reading the letter:
"Congratulations, your laser cannon has passed inspection. However, you'll need to replace all combat equipment with classified gear."
Morty desperately:
"Why can't I just kill all these people?"
Greta standing in the doorway:
"Morty, don't forget to fill out the 'Monster Assistants' form. You still haven't listed their working hours."
Morty slumps over the desk, unable to understand how he got into this situation. But one thing was clear: Greta was inevitable.
End of Chapter...