When Dark Lords Chat
by Mistress of the Dungeon

What if ... a few really bad guys meet for regular online chats?

Chapter 1

AOL Instant Messanger
The following friends are online

tomboy
ani-the-sith
evileye

ani-the-sith: Hey folks, how's everything?

tomboy: Oh don't ask, man. Haven't got my body back yet

evileye: Neither do I. But what about you, hm? Everything fine in the Empire, Vader?

ani-the-sith: Splendid, I tell you. Guess what, yesterday I found out, that I have a son, isn't that great?

tomboy: Whew man! A son, hm? You never told us that you were "seeing" somebody, old wanker! Shame on you for not sharing the juicy details.

evileye: Hear hear! You could have had some mercy with your disembodied friends.

ani-the-sith: Folks, calm down! My boy's already grown up, you know. The lady never told me ... oh well, we didn't get along too well. She was a politician, you know, a real pain in the behind. And I guess the boys taking after her. He's quite stubborn I must say. Going on and on about fighting for the light and that I'm not really evil and it's all about love and stuff. I'm pissed, I tell you.

tomboy: Hey, you could always send him over here. I'll put him in my training camp for aspiring Death Eaters, showing him a few basic torture techniques and other fun stuff, how's that sound, hm?

evileye: Or how about an internship with Saruman? He'll like that, I promise you. He could oversee a orc production line perhaps, learn some swordplay ...

ani-the-sith: Oh he knows swordplay alright. Nearly chopped my head off the other day ... and he's also achieved some basic skills mastering the force, that should interest you, Voldy, hm?

tomboy: Force - that's rubbish! Nothing more than I little wandless magic, I say.

evileye: Hey, guys, cool down, doesn't really matter how we call it, do we? Let's get down to business, shall we? Tom, I've got a serious problem here with Gandalf, the old geezer. He's gone completely mental, instigating those blasted hobbits against me. Can't you convince his brother to talk some sense into the man?

tomboy: Ask someone else, man! I haven't been on talking terms with Dumbledore ever since my schooldays. He's basically the same, constantly babbling about the dangers of dark magic and how to destroy me. I tell you, it's in the family. I haven't got the slightest idea what to do about it. Any suggestions, ani?

ani-the-sith: Oh, like I would know. I've got my hands full with those blasted Jedis over here. I'm so sick and tired of this stuff. Why can't they all just leave an honest evil man bloody well alone, I ask you?

evileye: Man, I hear you! These people have no idea how it feels to just hover over this effing mountain day in day out. And it's not even in a nice neighbourhood. I only wish I had my body back, I'd be off to some nice little tropical island first thing, I tell you!

tomboy: Tropical island? Sounds good to me. Mind if I join you, Saury?

evileye: Anytime, Voldy.

ani-the-sith: Hey, you wouldn't leave me behind, would you? Let's make some plans to get you guys back into your bods and let's haul ass! Sorry folks, gotta go now. We had a server problem on my new Death-Star and I gotta choke a few of my minions. Meet you next week, folks. Same time, same place?

evileye: Bye, ani. Bring some pictures of your youngster next week, will you?

tomboy: And think about our suggestions? What you told us, the boy would really make a fine Death Eater. And old Albus would be soooo pissed ... alright then, take care guys, I'm off.

"Wormtail, I'm done here. Shut down the bloody laptop!"- "As you wish, my lord" - "And mail a copy of the Terms of Admission for the Death Eater camp to d.vader(at)death-star.empire.universe(dot)net. I think we'll have a new applicant pretty soon."

TBC

AN: I know, I know, that really sucks ... I'm supposed to be working right now and I just couldn't get this silly idea out of my head. So here's my procrastination masterpiece!