Our Beloved Docktor Frogg Part I
Note: The last time I tried to write a L.O.S.E. fanfic was 2013. So, I'm pretty rusty.
In a nutshell: Docktor Frogg is starting to wonder if the grass is greener somewhere else. Maybe he'd feel more satisfied with his career and life overall if he was a mad scientist under an actual supervillain instead of Voltar the Saturday morning cartoon villain flop?
This is also me introducing my fan character Firecracker to what may, potentially, be a new series of L.O.S.E. fics after this one. I also plan on including Professor Venomous from O.K. K.O.! as a minor recurring character in this particular fic.
“Oh, Docktor Frogg! You got some mail!” Red Menace chirped as he passed over a surprisingly fancy gold embossed envelope.
Frogg nodded and took the parcel. He was relieved Voltar was out doing who-knows-what since the little gremlin would insist on getting first look at the mail just because of how shiny it was. He muttered a few choice words under his breath as he carefully opened said envelope, imagining Voltar scoffing, rolling his eyes, and whining that he never got anything good.
Honestly, Frogg was expecting spam about a credit card for the ‘elite’ supervillain or glossy, unbelievable photos of equipment he’d never be able to afford (or steal) in a million years. Instead, it was a wedding invite. And as soon as he saw the name and picture attached, his heart dropped a little.
There was the beaming and lovestruck face of Professor Venomous holding hands with a shorter man that had teal, swooped hair on one side of his head and one red cybernetic eye. The mystery beau looked great in a powder blue tuxedo, his smile almost hidden behind a big matching tie and a sea of ruffles. Frogg glanced at the letterhead again: “….formally invited to the wedding of Professor Venomous and Lord Boxman.”
Frogg sniffed and closed the letter. Years ago, he found Professor Venomous on a mad scientist forum. His specialization was crafting bio-mass attachments and creating artificial life. He was Frogg’s dream lab partner; a scientist whose demented imagination matched his talent, zeal, and determination to create bigger, worse, and deadlier things. A few of Frogg’s better organic monsters over the years, the ones that lived longer than five minutes, owed their existence to Venomous’ equations and thorough notes.
When Venomous first shared pictures of what he looked like, it awoke something in Docktor Frogg. The man was as gorgeous as he was brilliant. He had a purple complexion that he carefully matched with turtlenecks in the same color family. His dark hair was glossy and combed back into a flattering wing shape. And he wore eyeliner.
Venomous had a touch of Goth aesthetic and Frogg’s heart always skipped a beat around Goth girls with tastefully put-together black outfits and make-up that made her look like the Grim Reaper’s next willing target. That applied to Goth guys too. It also better explained what Frogg previously chocked up as just “admiration” for the icon Rock Gothington.
It hit Frogg like an unpleasant satellite from the heavens above: He’d been crushing on his long-time online friend Professor Venomous. He’d held onto a slim hope, the slimmest most gossamer thread of hope, that Venomous might reach out one day, ask to be partners, and sweep him away from his dreaded day-to-day as a minion for a Saturday morning cartoon flop. Someone else beat Frogg to the goal he hadn’t realized he had.
Boxman. Frogg blew out a breath. Lord Boxman.
If Venomous had fallen for him, he probably had some blueprints or research worth raiding. At the very least, Frogg might find a devious new idea for a pet project and maybe even a new villain penpal. It’d help buffer his ennui if he had just one more person to talk to that knew what real evil was instead of continuing to insist that playing Ding Dong Ditch on their neighbor Steve was the height of villainy.
“What’d you get, Docktor Frogg?” Red Menace asked with a friendly grin.
“Junk mail.” Frogg deliberately looked away from Red’s face as he tucked the invitation into the inner pocket of his lab coat. “Just junk.”
“Why did you discretely put it away in your coat then?” Red raised an accusatory finger and eyebrow. “That’s the pocket you put important documents in.”
Suddenly the door burst open and Voltar puttered in, tapping his fingers and chuckling sinisterly. Even his antennae curled slightly backwards.
“Men! I’ve found a fantastic new way to annoy the neighborhood!” Voltar made a few showman gestures before sticking his hands behind his back.
Red leaned in curiously. For a moment, Frogg was actually grateful for Voltar’s interruption. As Voltar was pulling out his monumental find, Red shot Frogg a knowing glance and raised his brows. Of course he wasn’t just going to let Frogg off the hook.
Frogg swallowed heavily as Voltar raised a fistful of colorful kazoos.
“I’ve found a treasure trove of horribly played songs on NikNak!” Voltar carried on with a gleeful laugh. “And the fools shared their sheet music! For free! We’re going to learn how to play these songs. The worse. The better. Feel free to ad lib. And we’re going to knock on all our neighbors’ doors. And give them a kazoo concert that will make them groan in sheer agony!”
“I think you’re mistaking recorders for kazoos….” Red interjected.
“I got these from the dollar store for 25 cents. I’m not made of money, Red.”
“Wouldn’t recorders be more irritating?” Frogg said, frowning. “I’ve been to some pretty bad recorder recitals, Voltar. That’s the stuff of nightmares for some parents…”
“And grandparents!” Red added.
“Hmmm…..” Voltar idly scratched his chin and shook the kazoos mashed between his fingers. “I really want to do a bad kazoo concert today.”
With that, Voltar shoved the kazoos at Frogg and Red. Red excitedly started tooting on his while Frogg rolled his eyes and held up the pathetic plastic instrument between his claws.
As if Red’s tweeting and buzzing wasn’t bad enough by itself, Voltar joined in. In his case, he was pitifully trying to play two kazoos at once. Red sounded at least close to competent while Voltar was wheezing and blowing raspberries barely a minute later.
Is this really the rest of my life….? Frogg raised his kazoo and half-heartedly blew into it.
“Let’s gooooo!” Voltar cheered, pointing and marching back towards the door.
Frogg slumped forward and followed the peppy, jaunty strut of his comrades with significantly more somber energy. Maybe today he’d finally discover a Skullosus recruitment poster that didn’t have all the little “take a number” strips pulled off.
Instead of the neighbors, Voltar decided to drag L.O.S.E. to the park instead. Because he was hungry. And there was a specific hot dog cart there that had quality brats-not the cheap meat tubes everywhere else had-and a certain brand of spicy mustard that you just couldn’t find anywhere else in town.
While Voltar beelined for the cart, Red Menace noticed Mrs. Johnson parked on a bench and feeding pigeons. He casually strolled over with a certain grin on his face that better fit a superhero sidekick than a burly evil henchman. The elderly woman immediately perked up when she saw him. She fished out a couple pieces of the awful candy every old person ubiquitously carried on their person and offered Red the ones with the strawberry-themed wrappers. Of course, he gasped with sheer delight and popped one in his mouth.
Docktor Frogg rolled his eyes and looked down at the kazoo pathetically dangling from his claws. He raised it to his lips and started tooting a tuneless ditty. Only he could hear it. Otherwise, he was overpowered by bird chatter and laughing children.
Oh, look. Glory Guy’s superpowered spawn recently learned how to fly. The child was cackling as he flew around in a few dizzy circles, a little gray hare hanging onto his ankle for dear life. Glory Guy’s concerned cries followed a minute later.
Frogg chuckled sinisterly. Maybe in the next ten years Glory Jr. would be a delinquent on the quick path towards a supervillain that could easily rival the likes of Skullosus or greater instead of yet another boring and cookie-cutter boy scout like his old man.
“….you’re absolutely sure?” Speaking of Skullosus, the skull in a jar was sitting across a picnic table from a character Frogg hadn’t seen before. She certainly wasn’t dressed like one of his typical minions and she wasn’t Skullosus’ gender-bent galaxy-conquering girlfriend either.
“Yeah,” she said with a firm nod. “I appreciate the opportunity, but it’s just not what I’m looking for.”
The mystery woman was barely a foot taller than Voltar from Frogg’s rough mental height estimate. She had short gray hair slicked back into sharp quill-like shapes at the base of her neck and cat-like yellow irises. Colored contact lenses maybe? She was dressed in a dark double-breasted suit and silver tie matched with black and white shoes Frogg had only seen in 1940’s movies. Based on her outfit alone, Frogg guessed she was probably a franchise rep for one of the big-name suppliers Skullosus had access to as an A-list villain.
Despite himself, Frogg cast a venomous glare in Voltar’s direction. His boss was happily chomping down on his stupid bratwurst. With a snarl and a few curses, Frogg turned his attention back to Skullosus. Maybe Voltar would be extra slow today and indulge what he liked to call his “foodie” sensibilities. Yes, Voltar, the man whose usual diet consisted of a big bucket of fried fast food chicken or cheap microwave pizza, was a fount of knowledge on fine dining.
At the very least, Frogg wanted to find out who Skullosus’ mystery supplier was. It’d be another brand name to add to his ever-growing list of mad scientist’s equipment he idly daydreamed about.
“I could really use a decent mad scientist right now.” Skullosus tapped the table top. “Do you like foosball? We just had a foosball table installed in the lounge!”
Frogg’s goggles bugged while the woman in the suit rolled her eyes.
“I’m not a mad scientist. I told you I’m more of a publicist. Or spin doctor for a more accurate description. My mad science is ad hoc at best.” She made a “so-so” gesture. “And I don’t like foosball.”
“But it’s so fun to make the little men kick the ball! It’s like….” Skullosus gestured vaguely. “And then the other guy goes-” He gestured vaguely again. “So fun.”
“Have you actually played it?” She folded her arms.
“My son likes it.” Skullosus shrugged. “I also just got orange soda in the employee vending machines!”
“Hire an actual mad scientist. Call me when you need a brochure for the people on your first conquered planet or whatever.”
“Firecracker, no mad scientists-”
“ ‘No mad scientists want to work anymore!’ Yeah, yeah….” Firecracker made a rude, dismissive gesture that eerily reminded Frogg of Voltar.
“Don’t you dare take that tone with the mighty-”
“You can’t eject me out the airlock.” Firecracker grinned in a menacing fashion. “This is a no disintegrator ray zone. Plus, Glory Guy and General Sargent are here.”
He ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes, but huffed in defeat.
“We’re still on for brunch Monday, right?” Firecracker adjusted the lapels of her suit jacket.
“Of course! Galactea is dying to meet you.” Skullosus’ entire demeanor shifted from intimidating to casual in mere seconds. He cleared his throat and tapped the front of his mech suit. “It’s disappointing that we’ll no longer be business associates. Please send any promising mad scientists my way?”
Firecracker nodded as she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “Yes. Of course.”
Skullosus nodded again and stood up. Then he ambled away towards Glory Guy who had just managed to catch his ball-of-chaos rugrat.
The gears in Frogg’s head started turning. If only Glory Guy wasn’t here. If he could just find a way to get himself in front of Skullosus-
“Enjoy the show, Goggles?”
Frogg’s thoughts were interrupted by Firecracker looking directly at him with tightly folded arms and a smug smile on her face.
It was that moment Frogg also realized his goggles had extended out a bit. He had unintentionally zoomed in on Firecracker and Skullosus when he got wrapped up in his eavesdropping. Also, he’d only been standing...ten feet away from their picnic table.
“Oh….” Frogg raised the tip of his claw to his chin. “A-ahhm….”
“Skullhead has a bad habit of using his outside voice.” Her smile grew and she laughed a little, her shoulders bobbing. “So, you’re an aspiring Skullosus minion then?”
“Yes.” Frogg pushed the tips of his claws together, blushing in embarrassment. “I’d like that. Very much.”
“I’d hold off from applying right now.” She held up a warning index finger. “Skullosus thinks he can juggle wedding planning with an evil operation that’s about to expand from not-yet world destroyer to galactic conquerer. It’s a circus!”
“...g-galactic conquerer?!” Frogg was salivating a little now.
“I can see the evil little twinkle in your eye.” Firecracker snorted. “Seriously. I’ve been ejected out of his airlock two different times because of pre-wedding jitters! Wait. Wait at least a month. Then he’ll be back to ejecting minions from the airlock twice a week. Only once if he’s in an especially good mood.”
The tone of her voice and imagining himself floating about aimlessly in space made Frogg very, very aware of gravity keeping his feet attached to the earth beneath him. He looked down at the grass and swallowed thickly. “Mm-hmmm….”
“Good news is you’re a shoo-in,” Firecracker lightly clapped Frogg’s shoulder. “I got my foot in the door because Skullosus caught a whiff of mad scientist on my CV. I can only piece together mad scientist scraps with duct tape, gum, and a miracle!”
“What exactly does Skullosus need a mad scientist for?” Frogg asked around the growing lump in his throat.
Before Firecracker could answer, Voltar popped up and sprayed a mix of spit and terribly played kazoo music in her face. There was a big, stupid smile on his helmeted face and he narrowed his eyes challengingly at Frogg and Firecracker.
“Time to move out, Docktor Frogg!” he declared.
Firecracker had a tight-lipped smirk on her face as her pupils shrank and she blinked a few times. She sniped one of the kazoos Voltar still wielded between his knuckles, raised the cheap instrument to her lips, and took a deep breath. She tweeted into the kazoo, as loud and obnoxious as she could. The resulting foghorn bellow was bigger than Frogg thought the instrument was capable of. It was followed by enough wind to push Voltar’s antennae back and at least a gallon of spit.
Now it was Voltar’s turn for shrinking pupils and rapid blinking.
“What was that for?!” he cried indignantly.
Voltar tweeted the kazoo again, this time waving his hand off to the side with a few conductor-esque gestures as he seemed to try and remember some tune.
“...is that supposed to be Jingle Bells?” Firecracker asked.
“Nightshade smells! Bobbin lost a pin!” Voltar sang off-key. Frogg cringed when Firecracker started playing her pilfered kazoo actually in tune with Voltar. “The Shade mobile lost a wheel and the Cuckoo got away!”
“Oh, my God. I remember when Nightshade had such a cow about that on national TV.” Firecracker snickered. Then her eyes bugged and she raised the kazoo, tapping the air with it a few times. “Can you imagine putting together a choir of these and playing it right outside his house? Bonus points if its kids in Nightshade’s official shirts and carrying his stupid new action figures.”
“Ooohhh, he’d hate that!” Frogg chimed in, an evil smile tugging at the corners of his lips for the first time in awhile.
“Do you have more of these?” Firecracker shook the kazoo again for emphasis.
“No.”A few more fell out of Voltar’s pockets as his eyes shot back and forth like pinballs.
“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Firecracker laughed as she pocketed the kazoo and extended a hand to Frogg. “I’m Firecracker, the spritely and unpredictable! Pleasure to meet you.”
“Docktor Frogg,” Frogg spun his claw once with a little showy flare before taking her extended hand. “The ah...insidious and dement-cru...malicif-ignant.”
“Um, excuse me!” Voltar glared at her. “I’m the illustrious leader of the League of Super Evil, Voltar. But I don’t really need an introduction. You’ve probably heard of me.”
He puffed out his chest and made a display out of looking at his nails.
For a moment, Frogg tensed up and braced himself for an incoming Voltar tantrum. Most people were barely aware that they existed, saw them as minor nuisances that could be deterred with a “shoo” motion and a spray bottle, or worse, asked who they were even after several events that had almost leveled Metrotown.
“Yeah!” Firecracker tapped her palm. “The balloons? You kept everybody on 4th street up all night after popping a bunch of balloons...Where did you find enough?”
Voltar made a pleased noise. “The dollar store foolishly threw them out! They were all there in an alleyway dumpster! Free for the taking.”
While Voltar was laughing as if he discovered the secret behind perpetual motion, Frogg groaned and rolled his eyes.
“That’s where we find all of our equipment,” he snarked.
“Frogg! Don’t give away our secrets.”
“You already gave it away.”
“Do you think there’s more kazoos back there?” Firecracker interrupted.
“I didn’t think to look there!” Voltar sighed. “I actually bought these.” He glared at the kazoos still stuck between his fingers.
“Recorders would be more annoying,” Firecracker said. “We should stock up on those instead.”
“I told you!” Frogg said in a sing-song with a pointed stare at Voltar.
“Wait a minute.” Voltar folded his arms haughtily. “Who said you were joining us on my genius plan?”
“Fair enough.” Firecracker mimicked his body language before leaning in and blowing a raspberry. “But I can find cheap recorders and I know at least six evil parents that would love to use this as an internship opportunity for their kids.”
“I can recruit an entire neighborhood of annoying kids!”
“Brilliant.” Firecracker smirked. “If we teamed up, we’d have that neighborhood plus six kids. It’d maximize how annoyed Nightshade would be!”
“Wait, wait, wait…” Voltar shook his head. “Our goal is to annoy my neighbors. Especially Steve.”
“Okay.” Firecracker leaned in closer. “Let’s give Steve nightmares.”
The cold, icy tone Firecracker used actually sent a slight shiver down Frogg’s spine. For a moment, Voltar looked a bit phased. His yellow pinprick irises dilated a few times and he took a step back. A moment later, Voltar regained his nerve raised a triumphant fist. “Steve will pee himself in terror!”
“Great.” Firecracker fished a business card out of her pocket and slipped it into Voltar’s hand. “Call me when you’re ready to discuss the plan! I’m always excited to team up with other villains.”
With that, she waved and walked towards the same bratwurst cart Voltar was at a few minutes ago. Frogg watched her passing form, wondering why someone that had connections with Skullosus of all villains would want anything to do with L.O.S.E. Whatever her intentions, she could help Frogg start moving ahead in the world. He’d keep a wary eye on her but until proven otherwise, she’d given him a small spark of hope. He was mildly disappointed that the evil scheme was still Voltar’s small-peanuts vision but at least it’d been upgraded to real nuisance instead of mildly irritating; like a housefly aimlessly larking about exchanged for a mosquito nipping at someone’s neck.
“Gross. Did she just ask me on a date?” Voltar held out the business card as if it was a bag of dog poop.
“As if.” Frogg rolled his eyes. “Girls give you their phone number on scraps of notebook paper or napkins with little hearts on them. Or they just put their number in your phone.”
“How would you know?” Voltar looked at him suspiciously.
“I’ve been out on a few dates!” Frogg said, a bit more defensively than he would have liked. “Anyway, business cards are common. A lot of big-time supervillains and minions have them. This would be our first major collaboration with another villain. It might gain the League more notoriety.”
“We’re known!” Now Voltar was getting defensive. “We’re a household name…”
“We might actually get on the front page of the newspaper.” Frogg mused. “Or better yet, convince a social media influencer to make a video about us…”
“It’d be nice to see my face on the front page,” Voltar muttered.
“Alright, I’ve decided! The League will team up with this Firecracker. Only temporarily!” Voltar snickered. “Your nights of blissful slumber are numbered, STEVE!”
Before Voltar started on an evil laugh, Red joined them. He waved casually and held up a kazoo. “I’m ready to toot, Voltar!”
“Change of plans, Red. We’re going back to the drawing board…”
“Can we go back to the drawing board over subs?” Red Menace held up a coupon with a giddy grin. “Mrs. Johnson had a leftover Get 3 Subs free for Gene’s Sandwich Shoppe!”
“I could eat,” Voltar agreed.
“What about Doomageddon?” Frogg asked nervously.
“Oh, I have enough leftover grocery money to get him a sandwich. Besides, Doomy has very specific tastes!”
“Yeah, I bet…” Frogg shuddered. Thankfully, a big meaty sandwich was far more appetizing than Frogg’s string beany body.
Yet another reason Frogg was excited by the prospect of potentially leaving L.O.S.E.
