Movie Villain Face-Off: Mean Sixteen 1

Welcome back, folks. Hereabouts is where the proverbial nitty-gritty is gotten down to. The wheat's been separated from the chaff, and in some cases, the heads and limbs have been separated from the bodies.

The Mean Sixteen starts now.

(Round 1 Refresher course: Part 1, Part Deux, Part Tres, and Part D.)

(Click for large version of Round 1 results.)

Hollywood Villain Deathmatch - Mean Sixteen 1

Fascist Division:

Darth Vader Vs. Alex DeLarge

"What's all this, then?" said Alex upon entering the arena. "Woudst thou viddy this great bolshy chelloveck, he being dressed in the heighth of blackest black nochy fashion, from the shlem on his gulliver, all the way down to his malenky neezhnies? What didst thou, in thy mind, have in store for your humble narrator?"

"I find your lack of proper language skills...disturbing," grumbled Vader from within his ebony prison, hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.

"Well!" replied Alex. "Welly-welly-welly-well then, O mine darkest of dark lewdies. Seems the time for gavroreeting has drawn up short! Come then, and get a tolchock on your great, gloopy, plasticine litso, yon spoiled-smelling vat of fry-up fats! Thine great expanse of wasted sodding plott-flesh! I'll slit up yer stinking gorlo from grin to shin!"

With this, Alex produced the dagger he kept cleverly secreted in the grip of his walking-stick, and brandished it menacingly. Vader, in turn, produced his own weapon. All three-and-a-half feet of it, in all of its great, red, glowing glory. Alex felt his glazzies spring wider open then even they did whilst strapped endwise into the great Ludovico seat of torture.

And this is the real weepy and, like, tragic part of the story. Real horrorshow, my droogies.

WINNER: VADER

Deutschland Division:

Ernst Blofeld Vs. Hans Gruber

"Ich denke, dass ich Sie kenne," said Blofeld upon seeing his opponent for the first time. "Haben wir uns trafen, ja?"

"Nein, ich glaube nicht, dass wir haben," replied Gruber, eyes narrowed, suspicious.

"Ich denke, dass Sie verwechselt werden," Blofeld countered. "Ich kann Gesichter nicht vergessen."

"Genug...Genug von diesem!" Shouted Hans. "Ich lasse nicht diese Verzögerung zu! Unser Kampf fängt jetzt an!"

"Nein!" exclaimed Blofeld suddenly. "Es war nicht Sie...Ihre Mutter. Ich kannte Ihre Mutter. Vor vielen Jahren."

Gruber's eyes narrowed. "Meine Mutter ist nicht Ihre Sorge," he hissed contemptuously.

"Es ist eine Tatsache," replied Blofeld, smiling slyly. "Sie konnten sagen...Ich kannte sie auf eine biblische Art."

"Schweinhund!" shouted Gruber, and lunged at Blofeld enraged.

Blofeld, bolstered by his previous victory, attempted to once again toss his ever-present cat into his attacker's face, but Gruber's less-advanced age gave him the benefit of a better reaction time and superior reflexes, and he batted the snarling feline out of the way without breaking stride.

"Nein!" shrieked Blofeld, as he cowered in fear. "Haben Sie Mitleid! Ich bitte von Ihnen!"

"Trauen sich nicht!" shouted Gruber as he descended upon Blofeld. "Mitleid...Das gehört den Franzosen."

Blofeld's throat posed no challenge to Gruber's iron grip as his life was choked slowly away.

WINNER: GRUBER

Deadly Charm Division:

The Sheriff of Nottingham Vs. Nurse Ratched

"A woman?" said the Sheriff in horror. "For the love of Our Lord. I could no more harm a lady than I could a painting, or a flower. What madness is this? Whom is responsible?"

"Madness? Madness is something I know a thing or two about," said Ratched, leveling her eyes at him. "And, if I may be so bold, you seem to be suffering from quite a fair bit of it."

"What would you know of me?" replied the Sheriff dismissively.

"Well," said Ratched, "though I am hardly a strict Freudian, one could certainly read quite a bit into the size of your sword...not to mention the ludicrously oversized codpiece you're sporting so prominently."

"What are you implying, madame?" inquired the Sheriff. "And I beseech thee, choose your next words VERY carefully...as they could well be the last you shall ever speak."

"Oh, nothing at all," she said. "Only that it seems as though you MUST be attempting to overcompensate for what has to be some comically minuscule genitalia."

The Sheriff crossed to her in a flash, and was upon her before she could react, clutching one of her wrists tightly in his glove. "I assure you, madame," he breathed, directly into her upturned face. "Were circumstances any other than what they are, I'd prove to you in turgid, throbbing detail just how very much you have underestimated me. And...repeatedly."

"You're hurting me!" said Ratched, defaulting to a false shrinking-violet pose in a bid for sympathy. However, she did so even as her other hand reached for the syringes in her apron.

"Not nearly as much as I'm about to," he spat. He wrenched her arm behind her, drew her body closer to him, and pinned her free hand uselessly between them. His other hand found a secret fold in his robes, and withdrew a bitterly sharp dagger.

"Oh, really?" she replied, an edge of mockery in her voice. "I thought you'd never harm a woman."

"Wrong," hissed the Sheriff, slipping the dagger deftly between her ribs, and staining her starched whites with angry crimson runnels. Her eyes grew wide with pain and surprise. "I said I'd never hurt a LADY." he smirked, watching her life drain away. "And you, my dear, have proven that you scarcely qualify in that regard."

WINNER: SHERIFF

Nightmare Division:

Freddy Krueger Vs. Hannibal Lecter

Freed from his restraints, Dr. Lecter stood facing the door grimly, waiting for his enemy to enter. Which is likely as not the reason Freddy chose to drift up through the drainage gate in the center of the floor.

"Surprise!" shouted Freddy, embracing Lecter in a sudden rough bear hug from behind. "Did you miss me?" He curled his blades toward his palm, positioning the points against Lecter's throat.

"In your dreams," said the good doctor, and fearlessly bit down hard on Freddy's remaining arm where it had been wrapped around his neck. Howling in shock and pain, Freddy tore himself away, leaving a double-large chunk of his arm in the mouth of Lecter.

Hannibal chewed thoughtfully as Freddy snarled with agony. "Hm..." said the doctor softly. "Not bad. Though, someone should have taken you out of the oven ages ago. You taste a bit...overdone."

Forgetting everything but the pain and indignity of the injury, Freddy lunged at Lecter with this blades extended. But Freddy's off-kilter center-of-balance due to the missing arm (and Lecter's reflexes in dodging the one he still had) sent him sprawling, landing face-down and spread-eagle onto the floor. Lecter was on him like a cat, pinning his arm harmlessly out of the way.

"These are quite nice. Inventive," cooed Lecter as he removed Freddy's glove. "Shall we see if we can't use them to turn you into something a little more...bite-sized?"

The screams were incredible.

WINNER: LECTER

Tomorrow: Percussive maintenance, tools used in a manner inconsistent with their labeling, and the perils of jewelry. Y'all come back now, y'hear?