It seems like an ordinary weekday in a local business. A group of standard cubicle workers are riding an elevator up to their floor, refraining to speak. A calm, orderly aura coated the elevator. The elevator stops, and a terrible evil appears on the other side.
"What up, bitches?" says a noisy and rude bipedal honey badger. He sports a black thong (showing of quite the bulge), and worse yet, bore a horrible stench. The employees in the back had time to cover their noses before they could get a whiff, but those out in front were struck by his terrible body odor. What make his stench even worse is that, with a single whiff, most citizens become completely subservient to him, as shown by the employees that sniffed him got a glazed look in their eyes and slumped over. These workers have unfortunately run into the pheromone monster himself, Hank the honey badger. "Goin' up?" Hank squeezes between some of the dazed workers and presses the uppermost button on the elevator floor panel, the roof.
The remaining workers cover their noses, but they're running out of breath. Unless they get off soon, they'll be forced to breath in that stench. Thankfully, they see they're floor is coming up. Unfortunately, Hank notices too.
"Wall," Hank commands. The workers he controls step in front of Hank and form a wall of men in front of the elevator doors. The other workers struggle past Hank and try to wrench the wall of workers out of place while still holding their breath. Unfortunately, they can only watch in horror as the doors open in front of their floor, then close as the elevator continues upwards. Hank's grin grows as the elevator continues upwards. By the time they reached the floor Hank selected, the last worker couldn't hold their breath any more. They're forced to breath in Hank's scent and become completely subservient. "Out." All of the workers in the elevator walk out onto the roof like zombies. Hank follows suit, grinning at his handiwork. However, he knew victory won't come this easy. He looks around the skies, waiting to see a certain white spandex, blue caped, wrestling mask clad brat of a hero fly in from the sky. He eventually sees a silhouette coming in, poised to land in front of him on the roof. He sees the hero of the town, the Pint Puncher, land fist down onto the roof, before turning up and revealing his gas masked face.
"Not so tough without your funk, eh?" the boy mocks. Hank sneers, rolling his eyes at the kids confidence.
"Get somewhere safe." The workers all crowd around into a corner of the roof, far from the hero and villain. "Please, you're just delaying the inevitable, brat. Soon you'll all eat out of the palm of my hands." Hank stretches his head to either side, working out a crick in his neck. He stares at the Puncher with a confident smirk, extending an arm and taunting him with a contraction and extension of his index finger "C'mon, shorty."
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