Graginor, Bane of Innocents, Eater of Small Animals, and General Sort-of Bad Guy leaned back in his makeshift throne. "Grr," he said menacingly, rubbing his back. In truth, the 'makeshift throne' was just a foldup chair made from his favourite breed of kitten bones.

But that wasn't the point. Now was his hour of victory. Or at least, that's what the Google Now notification on his Moto 360™ smartwatch told him.

"It doesn't [i]feel[/i] like my hour of victory," he said to his chief advisor. 

The bovine skull didn't reply. 

The screams of innocents and the clatter of swords that serenaded his relaxation seemed to have melted into an uneasy silence. The cunning, magnificent and deliciously evil theme song of his also no longer played. 

Graginor shifted even more uncomfortably in his throne. He didn't even know that it was possible to be this uncomfortable. "Remind me once I take over this rotten land to fashion a throne out of—"

The doors burst open, and the triumphant band of protagonists entered the room.

They struck a heroic pose, shining so brightly with good-ness that Graginor had to hold his hand over his eyes. "Alright, alright, I get it, you're the good guys! Please turn the light down."

"Your reign of terror ends now, Graginor!" announced the handsome and kind Sir Henry Goodman. 

"Summon the guards!" Graginor shrieked at his advisor.

The skull continued to be inert. "Do I have to do everything around here?" Graginor sighed. "OK Google, call Guard Cap—

“It is over, Graginor,” said Zala the Spirit Maiden. “You are out of tricks. The innocent are safe from your terror.”

Graginor turned his back and grabbed his advisor off the table. “Can it be true, my friend?” He whispered, “Are we really out of tricks?” The skull continued to do absolutely nothing.

It was clear. Even his only friend had abandoned him.

He fell into his throne. The bones dug into his skin with defiance, they too informing him of his demise.

“I’ve had it!” Graginor kicked the chair away. “I have no friends. No allies. Life has only given me suffering!” Tears of frustration streamed down his face. 

All he wanted in life was a comfortable chair to sit in. But these ‘heroes’—these fiends and their defense of the ‘innocent’—they had taken it all away from him. He wanted nothing more now than to see everyone and everything burn with the epitome of agony, their souls forever subjected to the most tantalizing torture, he could even see it now, every lick of hellfire that—

A hand was placed on his back. “Now, now,” said Eva the Butterfly Guardian warmly. “It’s alright. I understand. All you need is friendship to guide you.” 

Graginor looked up in surprise. [i]Did these fools actually think he needed their vile ‘friendship’?[/i]

Sir Henry Goodman seemed to agree. “What are you doing, Eva? This man has killed countless innocents. He even killed my dog! He should be executed in front of all he harmed.”

“Don’t you understand, Henry? Look at the poor thing, he’s just a misguided soul. He’s never tasted friendship. We can show him what it means—make him good, make him…”

Graginor was about to inform Henry how vile his dog tasted—even when prepared by that five-star chef he kidnapped—when it hit him like a barbed mace. It was just all over. His life was forfeit, ensnared by the heroism of these fools. Yet the same heroism may save his life. The same world that had berated him until this point now showed him a pathway to salvation. He could live to fight another day. His mouth almost watered at what nefarious tricks and heinous crimes he could have time to pull. 

All it took was one sacrifice. 

“Friendly?” Graginor offered. 

“Yes, that’s the word,” said Eva. 

“Can he really be redeemed?” Questioned Zala. 

“Yes,” said Graginor. He made puppy eyes. He had a lot of experience with those—they went well with teriyaki sauce. “Uh, please?” 

“If we kill him, we are no better than him,” said Eva philosphically. 

“Fine,” said Henry. “But he’s buying me a new dog.” 

And so, the heroes and the [s]former[/s] villain left the palace and lived happily ever after. Or so they hoped.

The notification on his smartwatch reminded him of his ‘Hour of Victory’ event. He snoozed it. “Hour of victory indeed,” he snickered. “OK Google, set a reminder for betraying my newfound ‘friends’ and doing evil things.” 

“What was that?” said Henry.

“Nothing!”