Scent Notes: Cedar logs burning in the great outdoors, smoky patchouli, Balsam of Peru (fancy, we know), a lavender grove on a perfect spring day, a sprinkle of anise.

Captain Mansplain found himself, once again, in a large room in Feminista’s evil hideout. The room was empty except for a large compressed air pipe about midway up the wall behind him. He suspected cameras must be mounted somewhere in the ceiling, although he didn’t see any.

Facing him was Feminista’s co-villain/life partner, Ann Adote. He was about to go into his usual speech about how he’s morally opposed to gay people but you know, two chicks together is pretty hot, but Ann didn’t let him get a word out before she slapped him across the face. He took a step back, flabbergasted.

“I might not be able to read minds, Captain Mansplain, but I could just tell by the look on your face you were about to talk about how hot it is that Feminista and I are a couple, so don’t start.”

For once, Captain Mansplain didn’t have anything to stay. He just stood and stared at Ann for a moment.

Ann, for her part, took the moment to assess her opponent. His blue jumpsuit was too big everywhere except his midsection, where it was noticeably strained. His normal fedora had fallen off ages ago, but his blue satin cape embroidered with his initials CM and his catchphrase of “Well, Actually…” was tied around his neck. It was pretty obvious just from looking at the two of them who was the more competent and athletic of the two of them. Her leather and spandex outfit was not revealing, merely sexy, but she made sure her well-toned arms were always on display. She’d worked hard for these guns. And she would never wear a cape. She knew better.

All of Ann’s assessing took about 2 seconds, and she smiled at Captain Mansplain.

“Come on, big boy. Let’s fight.”

Now it was his turn to grin.

“Oh, I really don’t think you want that, Ann. You see, I know karate. I never had formal training, but I taught myself, and I’m very good.”

Ann burst into a laugh so loud the air pipe reverberated the sound.

“I HAVE to see this; please, do me the honor of fighting me, a humble villainess who merely studied Krav Maga for 15 years and does Crossfit six times a week.” She batted her eyes, then roundhouse kicked him in the face.

Captain Mansplain yelled, and fell onto his back. Ann stood over him, still laughing.

“You will regret that decision, Ann. Hiiii-yah!”

Captain Mansplain leapt to his feet. Well, more like gingerly sat up, bent his knees, fell forward, and eventually struggled back upright, slipping on his cape often. Huffing and puffing, he let out another high-pitched “Hiya!” while starting a series of complex arm movements that seemed to focus mainly on jutting his elbows in her general direction.

Ann couldn’t take her eyes off him. “What in the HELL are you DOING?”

“Karate, Ann!” he yelled while walking backwards and punching at the air emphatically. “Kah-rah-tay!” He was almost at the back wall, and was now throwing in a random kick to go with the punches and elbow jerks. As he readied himself to to run forward and deliver a rotating roundhouse kick to her head, he tripped on his cape and started to fall backwards yet again. Except this time his cape got caught in the air pipe, and sucked him up off his feet so that he was hanging a few inches off the floor, and would slowly choke to death.

Ann was in danger of choking to death, too, from laughter. “Oh my god, I wish there were cameras in here, I want everyone to see this! Hold on, hold on, I have to go, oh this is too fucking funny.”

She burst out of the room shrieking, and was back a few moments later with Feminista, Rhonda, and a few other ladies he didn’t recognize. They all saw him dangling there, and every single one started laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed down their faces; a few fell down on the floor.

“How the shit did he DO that?!”

“Didn’t we turn that pipe off so we’d stop sucking people up it?”

“Yes; it was far too messy. How is he UP there?”

Captain Mansplain, for his part, survived on very little oxygen flow to his brain under normal circumstances, so the whole slowly-choking-to-death thing didn’t bother him as much as the laughter.

“Could you all please stop laughing?” he coughed out at them.

“Yeah, no, sorry bud, we all have to leave now. Have fun … hanging out.”

And with that, they all burst into fresh peals of laughter and walked out of the room, leaving Captain Mansplain to loosen his cape enough so he could breathe, before the cape eventually gave out and he fell to the ground. His neck would be bruised, but he wasn't sure his pride would recover. (Of course it would; he's Captain Mansplain. Injuries to the ego are commonplace.)

Scent Notes: Cedar logs burning in the great outdoors, smoky patchouli, Balsam of Peru (fancy, we know), a lavender grove on a perfect spring day, a sprinkle of anise.