Kitten in the Twilight

Antwan did not own a cat. In fact he was specifically barred from having pets in this state. But even so, he was not surprised by the mewing he heard over his shoulder.

"It's true, then," he said as rotated his bloated form on an office chair. "You're every bit as adorable as they say."

Knifekitten twisted his head to the right, looking for all the world like a dorm room poster with a caption of "It's Not Easy Being This Cute."

"Ah," continued Antwan, sweat collecting on his forehead and palms, "I see you're puzzled at my eloquence. The fact is, I'm much more at home in the arena of face-to-face interaction. No spelling required. No HTML skills."

Knifekitten narrowed his eyes.

"And yes, of course, the cleverest supervillains don't let on how clever they are. Don't you agree?"

Knifekitten looked carefully around the miserable, moldy basement apartment. Not even a window.

"Ah, I understand your concern. If I'm so clever, why would I openly declare war on Things I Hate..."

Knifekitten purred, but Antwan knew he was growling. He hurried to finish his thought.

"...while simultaneously providing clues to my whereabouts: the names of childhood friends, regional predilections, life stories that could easily be cross-referenced with FBI records, and so on."

Knifekitten crouched into an attack posture, but Antwan continued, seemingly blinded by arrogance.

"One would think I wanted you to come here..."

Knifekitten pounced as Antwan's fat hand scrambled to his mouse. The slightest click was heard and Knifekitten was frozen mid-air, and then propelled sideways against a curtained wall with a terrible squealing crash. Then silence. Then Antwan's asthmatic laughter filled the room.

"You know," he said to Knifekitten, motionless against the curtain in an awkward sprawl, "the one thing I found most surprising about your adventures is that, for all the brilliant and powerful adversaries you've faced, not one of them came up with the most obvious solution for defeating you. I mean, it's moronically simple, really. A giant superelectromagnet." His gaze flickered down to his laptop. "Web-enabled, of course."

Antwan's laughter turned into a soft wheezing sound, until he saw the lights flicker. And then he knew he was doomed.

"The grid!" he cried. "What have I done?"

Even though it was four in the afternoon, no sunlight reached Antwan's apartment. The darkness was complete. Frantically, he reached into his pocket protector for a penlight, but all he could make out was a glimmer coming toward him, the sort of glint one would expect from finely honed steel.