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There were many different ways for villains to obtain their minions and henchpeople. Some went the old-fashioned way, and put ads in the newspaper or online, looking to pay people down on their luck. Others took to building them, or summoning them from a different dimension.

Profesor Venomous decided to go a more scientific route, and genetically engineer his from scratch.

Rat DNA was a must; rats were incredibly intelligent, which was something he was looking for in an assistant. Stupidity and ambition, whether good or evil, were two things that did not mix. Besides that, it kept up the 'Evil Scientist’ theme; in this world of heroes and villains, themes and motifs were incredibly important.

A few weeks in, he found himself gazing at the tiny embryo that was starting to form in the glass tube. In doing so, he found himself feeling...something. Something he couldn't explain.

He tore his eyes away when he realized it. "Don't get attached," he whispered to himself. He had a job to do; there was no room for things like 'affection.'

Months passed by; because the final product was smaller than many others, it would grow faster.

It would be useful, in the long run; it'd learn how to walk and talk sooner, and learn at a quicker rate, which was just what he wanted in a minion. Of course, that also meant that the minion would have a shorter lifespan.

Venomous ignored the sharp stab in his heart at that thought. "I can always make a new one," he told himself. It didn't make him feel much better.

Finally, the minion was ready to be taken from its...her...tube. At least, he assumed it was a her; he supposed that could change, in time. It wasn’t like he would care.

Venomous went about the necessary preparations for welcoming an infant into the world, readying diapers and tiny clothes and appropriate baby food, before pressing the button that drained the tube.

As soon as the baby was exposed to the chilly lab air, she took in a deep breath and wailed. That was a good sign; it meant that she had no trouble breathing.

It happened when he went to dress her. The tiny, green-furred, anthropomorphic rat baby opened her huge pink eyes at him, and stopped crying.

Venomous didn't feel anything, he told himself as he prepared her bottle. It didn't mean anything.

That was before he reached down to pick her up. One of her tiny, chubby, hairless hands gripped his finger. Despite the fact that she was an exceptionally tiny newborn, she held onto it with a surprising amount of strength.

Venomous realized he was doomed.

Ah, well; what was villainy without the threat of doom?