“It’s really quite simple,” Captain Mansplain said. “I found your secret lair in the easiest way: you sent me a note to come here to, I believe you said, ‘Meet my doom.’” He made exaggerated air quotes as he said it, because of course he did. “Although I don’t believe you really meant that, and let me explain why.”
“No, that’s exactly what I--” Feminista started to say.
“You meant that you would try to kill me, but fail spectacularly, because many people have tried to kill me over the years. As you know, I have invincibility; nothing stops Captain Mansplain! At least, no woman stops me; I will absolutely listen to my fellow male superheroes when they speak, and I don’t seem to have any male villains.”
“That’s probably because everybody loves me except you women! Why do you hate me? This is obviously your own internalized misogyny coming out in the most tremendously spectacular way: pure hatred for me, Captain Mansplain, the smartest man alive. I’m invincible because I have a giant brain, you see. And that manifests in its ability to constantly regenerate my cells as needed.”
“That’s not--” Feminista tried to interject, to remind him that she was the “villain” here, but that was looking less like the case every second. What an incompetent “superhero.”
Captain Mansplain turned his back to Feminista.
“So, listen, just end your little feminist agenda here, and let me be on my way. I only showed up to tell you that you should invest in better stationary; if you’re going to be sending death threats, you could at least splurge on high-quality paper, maybe a new logo. I designed my own logo, you know, it really wasn’t hard. Just used Microsoft Paint and added a flourish to my initials. Of course, you can’t do that, that’s exactly what I did. Don’t copy me because you have no original ideas of your own.”
The whole time Captain Mansplain was monologuing, Feminista stood there rolling her eyes. Given that she was about a foot taller than the Captain, and much more muscular, with a bachelor’s degree in art and a real knack for cooking, she’d had about all she could stand. Plus, she’d spent all morning setting up an elaborate trap involving a large fire pit, throwing stars, and several bad-tempered ferrets.
Since he wasn’t paying attention anyway, she walked out of the room, grabbed a frying pan from the nearby kitchen, and smacked him in the back of the head with it while screaming, “SHUT. UP!”
Captain Mansplain was knocked out cold. “Thank god,” Feminista sighed. “I didn’t think he’d ever stop. Now I can be the one monologuing, you pompous, frittata-brained chode.” She whistled, and several of her assistants came in the room. “Let’s get this guy to the dungeon.”
Scent notes: a cauldron full of a dark, bubbling, poisonous liquid with a distinct animal musk note wafting from the fumes and simmering bubbles, oudh wood, spicy dragon’s blood.