"Oh, you think you're going to be Paladins, now?" Darwin said mockingly.
"'To Wield in a Good Cause', you said," Barbara said. "I think taking out Evil Overlords like you is a good cause."
"Not good enough, I'm afraid," Darwin said. "It must be, not merely a good cause, but a pure and righteous cause. And no, my friend," he said to Roderick, "impressing the women and making a higher pay scale don't qualify."
"What?" Barbara said. "Those are hardly the reasons!"
"Uh, yeah," Roderick stammered uncertainly. "What she said."
Darwin smiled slyly. "Ah, but you're doubting yourself now, aren't you? You can't wield the Paladin Sword if there's doubt in your heart." He backed away from the sword. "Go ahead. Try to pick it up."
"What is this, some kind of trick?" Barbara said. "Of course he can pick it up. Can't you, Roderick?"
"Uh," Roderick said uncertainly, "yeah, I guess so."
"Well, go do it then!" Barbara cried. "Let's make a great ending to this epic song!"
"Having the bards sing about you isn't a righteous cause, either," Darwin said.
Roderick stepped forward uncertainly, and reached slowly for the sword hilt. The air started to crackle, and a single arc of lightning snapped from the hilt to his hand. He leapt back with a shout, and tumbled into a heap, moaning softly.
"See?" Darwin said, laughing. "You may as well give up. I knew I had figured out a way to keep anyone else from successfully becoming Paladin -- it was just a matter of finding the right candidate to offer it to. Someone who is not motivated by the higher good."
"That's not true," Roderick gasped.
"Oh, please," Darwin snapped. "Quit trying to impress your ladyfriend and admit it. You just wanted to impress her and win her heart."
"I don't believe it," Barbara said, though not convincingly. Roderick remained silent.
"But I do thank you for helping me get here," Darwin said, "and for stirring up much mischief among my enemies along the way."
"What do you have against them, anyway?" Barbara said suddenly. "I mean, aren't you an Evil Overlord? Why are you going after the other members of your own union?"
"Don't talk to me about the union!" Darwin snapped. "They cheated me! They grew fat and happy on my work, and did nothing for me! You see this paper?" He pointed at the framed pages. "I wrote this! And the brochure that brought you here! It was the best evil scheme the union has seen in centuries! And what did they give me for it? Evil Overlord of the Month. You know what that is? It's a plaque. Made of plastic."
"What did you expect?" Barbara said blankly.
"A raise, what else?" Darwin growled.
Barbara blinked. "You mean you're in this for the money? Then why could you touch the sword?"
"Because I'm tired of what the union stands for," Darwin said. "Don't get me wrong; I like the idea of a union, and there are times in history when they're necessary. But the Evil Overlords' Union isn't necessary, and hasn't been necessary for centuries. And when a union isn't necessary, it finds ways to make itself necessary, at the expense of its members. It grows to promote mediocrity, to thrive on it. Poor workers can't be fired for simply doing a poor job. Excellent workers can't be rewarded. An unnecessary union causes its membership to stagnate, to draw in on itself. I'm going to save the Evil Overlords from that." He grinned evilly. "And I'm going to repay those responsible for making the union what it is."
"Oh? Who would that be?" Barbara asked, stalling for time and casting about desperately for ideas.
"Why, all the union members, of course," Darwin replied.
"Oh," Barbara said. "Um. That doesn't sound like such a good idea."
Darwin shrugged. "Well, it doesn't much matter what you think," he said. "It's a just and righteous cause."
"Right," Barbara said slowly. "But, um..." She shook her head. "But -- well, tell me this. If you were so mad that they wouldn't offer you more money, then why didn't you just leave the union and strike out on your own? Go into the private sector?"
He frowned at her. "What, you mean start my own business?"
"Sure," she said. "I mean, you're an able executive, right?"
He looked thoughtful. "You know," he said, "that's not a bad idea. I could grow a huge business... form alliances with like-minded overlords... loot my employees' 401(k)s... force the legislature to pass laws to promote my business model. Yes!" He started pacing back and forth in his excitement. "I can see it now! Why, I can even build an entire industry by handling both recording and distribution, so I can keep even my own talent ground under my heel! Yes! I love it!"
Barbara looked at him in alarm. "What?" she cried. "You mean you're a..."
"A record company executive, yes," he said.
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she got up, strode forward, picked up the Paladin Sword, and took a mighty swing.
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