“Awful?” said a newcomer. “Wasn’t he thrown off a balcony for giving Mister Mayhem’s wife a foot massage?”

Baron Quandry and Magnificus looked up to see Professor Anthrax standing at the doorway to the cell, which stood open. It was always open for a few hours in the afternoon to let the inmates wander into the common room or out into the yard. Professor Anthrax was young, a real go-getter in the the supervillain community. Nobody liked him.

“What do you want, Anthrax?” Magnificus snarled.

“Couldn’t help but overhear your problem, Rolf,” Anthrax said to Baron Quandry. “You might be interested in knowing that the Feline Ranger and his pals are all gathered over at the ConventionPlex today.”

“So vhat, ve are here,” Quandry responded sharply.

“Not for long,” Anthrax replied. From within his orange coverall he pulled a small metal cylinder, two lights blinking on one end. “Lookie what I traded some smokes for.”

Quandry shot up. “My Relative Particle Transference Controller!”