Canadian Blood Diamonds

Have you ever wanted to kill your minions?

No, seriously. Have you ever had the urge to grab them by the neck and inject some really nasty nanobot that will eat them from the inside out? Cause that's about where I was last night at three a.m., standing outside my generator shed in worn, pink bunny slippers, up to my ankles in freezing snow. I sipped my coffee and took in the two shot rotator belts covered in icicles — on the nuclear generator I bought last week for over a million dollars.

"Fuck me," I said. It was so damn cold I half expected my breath to form icicles. "So let me get this straight. The heat's off, the lights are out, and my diamond mine is offline. All because you two morons cheaped out on insulator?" I rubbed my forehead with the sleeve of my pink bunny bathrobe.

Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee shuffled their feet before Tweedle Dum spoke up. "Well, boss, when you say it like that-"

I held up my hand. "Yes or no."

Flustered, Tweedle Dee said, "Package says it's good through minus twenty, boss—"

"Wind-chill factor," I said, emphasizing every single syllable. I tapped a bunny-slippered foot and stared up at the clear night sky. Well, at least the nuclear core didn't break this time. That counted for something. And the aurora borealis was still working.

I headed back inside to order yet another generator belt.

"What do you want us to do, boss?" One of the Tweedles yelled after me.

"Freeze to death, for starters," I mumbled under my breath, then yelled, "What do you think I want you to do? Clean it up!" I slammed the heavy chalet-style door behind me. This morning was getting off to a really fucking spectacular start.

Served me right, though. Of all the diamond mines in the world, why the hell had I picked one in Yukon? Why not a nice Aztec Mexican fortress? Could've done the world a favour and knocked off a few Mexican mob bosses in the process...Hmm, I took another sip and mulled it over.

As soon as my laptop powered up I headed to the Super Villain Emporium. I had just pressed submit order when a message from Cyber Punk, my accountant and financial planner, flashed across the screen. URGENT was highlighted in the subject line. I sighed and opened it: "Kelly, call me. Now."

I groaned, picked up my laptop, and headed to my room. You know things are bad when the accountant to supervillains and superheroes everywhere schedules an emergency conference call.

Apparently there's no sleep for the wicked or supervillainesses tonight.

***

Cyber Punk slid into a swivel chair on my screen. He pushed a pair of yellow-tinted lenses up his face and scratched his head. He'd been trying the geek chic look out lately. It worked for him.

"Kelly, what the hell did you just try to buy?"

"A new generator band. I've got repairs to make, and I'm freezing my ass off in soggy bunny slippers. I'm also seriously behind on my laser satellite launch, and those small European countries aren't going to ransom themselves. Why?"

He pushed the lenses further up and frowned. "Supervillains wear bunny slippers?"

I pulled my bunny-slipper-clad foot into view of the screen.

"Hunh, learn something new every day." Cyber fidgeted in his chair. "Kelly, I'm just going to come out and say it. You're broke."

I choked on my coffee, spitting most of it out over my comforter. "Shit!" I tried mopping it up, but it was a lost cause. Great, another expense.