Once the Night Wolf is safely in the garage (a chore that was always a huge hassle until you built the Mass Acquisition Teleportation Transit, or MATT), you and Smartica take the bags of money into your office in the southwest wing of the lair. You know that your henchmen would never do something as crass as to greedily hide bags of money for themselves, especially when you already let them put as much money as they wanted in their pockets during the robbery. That you clearly counted thirty-four bags at the bank and now can only find sixteen is a conundrum.
Your office is twice the size of the Oval Office and twice as square, too. Memories of past exploits hang on the wall: La Coiffeuse by Picasso, which you received for Christmas one year; a lock of Matchless Man's hair, from which you created a bizarre clone who did everything backwards; a giant penny, which is to say, a penny that is roughly the size of your head; an autographed (and stolen) poster of Todd McFarlane's Spawn; and a water cooler.
You and Smartica sit on opposite sides of your desk, which was once the door to your childhood home. What did you do with the rest of the house?
The two of you count the money into three piles: Smartica's, the henchmen's, and yours. You count in observance of criminal tradition:
"One for me and one for you," you say in a gruff voice. "One for me and one for them. And one for me and one for me."
And so on.
The process is mindless enough that your mind begins to wander.
You reminisce of your few past victories and your many past failures. Life as a villain has never been easy, but one area in which you have never failed is your personal life. You never made a bad grade in school, thanks to the blackmail of several of your teachers. You didn't really have any friends until college, but by then you had finally mastered the art of mass subliminal messaging. As you march into your thirties, there is no doubt you do well for yourself financially, so long as a bank, federal reserve, or any place with a cash register is nearby.
As for hobbies, you mostly spend your time outside of robbing banks and fighting heroes.
You can strategize all you like, but you know that the best plans need some muscle behind them. Thankfully, you have your amazing powers.
Whenever you have a free moment, you spend your time in the shrapnel gun range of your lair, sending Mind Hand blast after Mind Hand blast at small cutout pictures of famous costumed heroes, Matchless Man among them. Several years of shooting headshots (literally) has made you incredibly good at shooting stationary objects.
Of course, you are good at shooting non-stationary objects too. But not nearly as good as when your target isn't moving.
Hey, People Are Not Moving All the Time
"Hey," Smartica says. She snaps her fingers in front of your eyes. You become aware that you are in your office again, with Smartica across the desk from you.
"What?" you say.
"I was just talking to you about some of the issues I've heard the henchmen complaining about," Smartica says.
"Oh," you say. "And you addressed them, right?"
"I mean, yeah," Smartica says. "But at some point, we may need to sit down and discuss these issues."
"Sure, you can do that," you say. Smartica sighs.
You have faith in Smartica. Her name is fitting for someone of her general competency. She is so effective that she has risen in ranks to become the co-manager of your little "business enterprise." You are both of equal rank in your organization, though she typically defers to you since she "has no desire to become a villain" herself. This goes both ways too. Though you are a lone wolf, you typically defer to her when it comes to budgeting.
The Things She Can Do with Spreadsheet
You begin to count the money again, but your gaze wanders over to Smartica's face. She is roughly twenty years older than you, with compassionate blue eyes, hair that is almost completely gray, a strong jaw prone to clenching, and a perpetual half-smirk that plays in one corner of her mouth, a little like Katie Holmes.
Hold on. Are you attracted to Smartica?
Smartica is probably the healthiest of your romantic options at the moment. She is loyal, dutiful, brave, and more of a fan of constructive criticism than constant negativity. And despite the age difference between the two of you, you sometimes can't help but notice that with her, you feel significantly happier than when she is not there.
Of course, you have never vocalized that thought to anyone, since the two of you work so closely together, and you have never pursued that train of thought in your mind for long.
Ah, Smartica
As for the power dynamic, since both of you have equal say in the organization, there's not much of a chance of any quid pro quo. What could she possibly have to gain from you?
But, you need to be sure that you know Smartica reciprocates your feelings before you plan any grand displays of affection. Not only would that be awkward for everyone involved, but Smartica would report you to HR. And since she is such an important part of your enterprise, she is HR.
But you probably shouldn't worry anyway. During your session of "spacing out," both of your eyes meet. Smartica's little half-smirk becomes wider, then she quickly drops your gaze. While you aren't quite sure what that means, the way your heart pounds tells you that there is something significant to this interaction. You just aren't sure what.
The two of you are old friends and partners in crime. Could the two of you become partners in love?
Oh Boy, Yeah
Once you finish counting the money, Smartica forms separate piles for the henchmen. Given that roughly one hundred henchmen work in your organization, one would need spectacular organizational skills to be able to keep track of a hundred piles of hundred-dollar bills.
Or she could just make stacks of ten that she could then further divide by ten. Like she does now, without even thinking about it.
You really do not deserve her brilliance, but she has been a constant support for you over the last ten years. She was the first of your henchmen, back in the days when you first broke into this villainy business. Of course, you had a mullet then, which was not the most flattering hairstyle in the universe.
"Something on your mind?" Smartica says. "You had to start over on your counting at least six times."