“FOOLS! INCOMPETANTS! INSUFFERABLE WRETCHES! SEIZE HIM! Why must I be eternally surrounded by such inept buffoons, WHY MUST MY GLORY BE FOREVER TAINED BY THE WORTHLESSNESS OF MY UNDERLINGS? BRING ME HIS HEAD OR IT’S THE DEATH BOX FOR YOU ALL!”

If you’re like me – and you must be if I’m bothering to talk to you – then the above words fill you with a sense of warmth, pride and purpose. A call to arms that resounds in the depths of your very soul, the battle cry of the single most important and unappreciated class of lowlife scum in this world, the lowly, glorious Henchmen. For thousands of years, the Henchman has been the staple, the foundation, the very rock upon which countless evil empires of doom have been constructed. The endless, faceless, nameless hordes of criminal masterminds and evil scientists and bloodthirsty warlords charged with a purpose that lesser men would quail from, to break shit, to blow shit up, to steal shit, and to have the shit beaten out of them by a single, stony-jawed sentinel of justice.

Rockstars

These are the tenets of the Henchmen, oh my Best Beloved. These are the commandments of the dark legions of meaningless thugs bound together by the will of an overly verbose madman with world domination on his mind. All of those dark men with their dark plans, for all their evil genius, without their Henchmen they are nothing but babbling lunatics. With their seemingly endless supply of interestingly-dressed cannon fodder to boss around and occasionally execute for insubordination, they are kings. They owe their infamy to their Henchmen, my friends; they owe everything they are to those stoic champions of broken necks and battered faces.

I can almost feel the itching in your palms, oh my most glorious fuckbeasts. I can almost hear your thoughts. You’re thinking, right now, “Yes. He’s right. Henching is not just the way – it’s the ONLY way. How could I have wasted my life away on college and medical school? How could I have been so blind as to ignore my deepest urges to become a nameless hooligan sent to die by the dozens at the hands of a steely-eyed ex-Navy S.E.A.L. with a tormented past and a ridiculously stacked sidekick? I am tired of sitting on the sidelines, watching as the other lowlife scum reap all the glory. I want to be a Henchman, and I want to be a Henchman right now! But… but how? Oh, God, how I wish I’d paid attention to Professor Badness in Remedial Thuggery! I’ll NEVER be a Henchman, now!” So many times I have said this and I will likely say it a hundred times more, but by the endless fuck of Moses, you are so goddamned lucky I’m here for you. You can thank me with the head of Ace Hardwire, Man of Mayhem later, but for now sit down and take notes. Your life is about to make a change for the infinitely briefer.

GETTING STARTED: FINDING THE RIGHT EVIL MASTERMIND FOR YOU

Henching is a noble profession, but one of careful choices. You can’t just go off and fling your endless loyalty to the first schmuck with a silvery skull on his chest that comes traipsing along the path, no. Your Evil Mastermind will dictate every aspect of your life from clothing to behavior, so this is a decision you cannot take lightly, oh no. Just like with any other profession, you need to decide what you, yes you, desire in an employer.

A simple Rule of Thumb: if he’s bad enough for Bruce, he’s good enough for you.

First of all, remember that your status in the underworld will spring directly from your Mastermind’s own villainy, meaning that you must carefully choose an employer with the appropriate goals. I cannot tell you how many aspiring Henchmen have found their careers over before they have even begun upon hearing the words “YES! YES! MY FIENDISH PLANS DRAW NEAR TO SUCCESS! SOON, ALL BUTTERY SAUSAGE WILL BE MINE!” roar from the throats of their new Mastermind. Nobody wants to be saddled with a loser of a Mastermind, and nobody wants to hang out with the guy who’s saddled with a loser of a Mastermind. You don’t want to be that guy, do you? The one sent out to steal purses from old ladies, and set in mortal combat against the Kinda-Mighty Wee Possum? The one even everyone points and laughs at until you piss your pants in infinite sorrow?

Fuck no. You want to be sent out to thieve the Dread Star of Ozymandias, not the Push Pop of Cindy Lou. You want an employer who’ll dress you in black leather, give you a huge fuckoff gun and send you off to get your head smashed into your chest by Sergeant Dragon, the Ninja Marine. You want an employer who will make you proud to call yourself a hired goon. An employer willing to reach for the stars and snuff them out with his endless, dark will. Mere unkindness will not do, my friends. You need a solid, godless, bloodthirsty ratbastard motherfucker to hitch your shooting star to.

Remember the following and remember it well:

ACCEPTABLE EVIL GOALS:

• Total World Domination
• Total World Obliteration

UNACCEPTABLE EVIL GOALS:

• Anything not directly related to Total World Domination or Total World Obliteration.

Now that you’ve raised your standards to the appropriate height of wretched, inhuman scum, it’s time to pay a little attention to the one thing most aspiring Henchmen never think of – your uniform. Your presence is meant to act as a banner for your employer, after all. You are a fleshy signpost that reads “PROFESSOR MALIGNANT, THE INFINITE BASTARD, WAS HERE”, and your manner of dress will reflect this. Before you hand in that fateful resume, take note of what your prospective employer is wearing and remember that you will be expected to dress a few levels down from him.

“Sure, my street cred will go through the roof, but do I really want to dress like a circus freak?”

Ask yourself:

• “Will those spiky, metal shoulderpads make my ass look big?”
• “Am I allergic to leather?”
• “Will this black metal skull-like helmet bring out my eyes?”
• “Sure, those are killer sunglasses, but are they Ray-Bans or cheap knockoffs?”

You will, of course, have absolutely no say over what you wear (remember – your Evil Mastermind will dictate every aspect of your life) but you can have at least a LITTLE control right at the start by being a little choosy about who you throw your neverending fealty to. Want to wear black silk Italian suits? Find yourself a Drug Lord. Don’t like spandex? Former inmates of the Happy Daze Maximum Security Asylum for the Criminally Insane are not for you. Dig on the “nothing but black” look? Go find yourself some ninjas. Can’t stand latex and don’t care to cut your hair with a blender? For fuck’s sake, don’t answer that ad for the Vampire King’s Endless Legion of Whiny Goths. Always wanted to wear a battle suit made entirely out of mostly-dead babies stitched together with locks of hair ripped from the heads of their mothers? Stick with me.

THE TALKING OF THE TALK

“Truly, your visage is far too toothsome and your manner is directly to the opposite of what I am accustomed. I find myself forced by the nature of my anti-social station in life to give you a right solid thrashing, in order to appease the megalomaniacal will of my employer, as well as to increase my own lagging self-esteem. Deucedly bad luck for you, eh wot?”

I’d like to begin by saying, if I ever find the ridiculous son of a whore that came up with the whole ‘u talk teh talk but can u walk teh walk’ shit, I will personally drag his brain out through his ass with the rustiest pair of tongs I can find.

Ahem.

Obviously, your precise anti-social behavior will be laid out for you by your Mastermind. Pay attention to his modus operandi, shitfleas, pay very close attention. Every Mastermind is different, and every Mastermind has their own plan of attack, and all it takes is you running out and acting in just the wrong brutal manner to cause it all to come crashing down. Your Mastermind will help you with that aspect, the heart of your personal villainy, but I can assist you with the basics, the electrons of evil that will orbit the nucleus of no-goodery your employer creates for you.

Practice, right now, saying the following phrases. Practice them until they become second-nature to you. Practice them until you can toss them off in any order, backwards and forwards, so that no matter what situation arises, you will always be prepared to say just the right thing.

• “GET HIM!”
• “GRAB HIM!”
• “SHOOT HIM!”
• “KILL HIM!”
• “DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY!”
• “HE’S GETTING AWAY!”
• “<Mastermind> WILL HAVE OUR HEADS IF HE GETS AWAY!”
• “FIND HIM!”
• “I’d like to see <Hero> try and stop us NOW!”
• “With these new <untested highly unstable prototype weapon>, we cannot be stopped!”
• “How could <Hero> possibly stop us? He’s just one man.”
• “We are unstoppable!”
• “This (town/city/country/world/galaxy/universe/dimensional place of existence/soda shop) is OURS!”
• “ARGH”
• “MY EYES”
• “IT BURNS”
• “AIEEEEE”

“It doesn’t matter how many of us you kill, <Hero>. We are legion. You will fall, <Hero>, you will fall and <Mastermind> will succeed. For all your earthly might, you cannot win, and with you falls your dreams of peace and justi- OH GOD NOT MY FACE”

THE WAY OF THE GLASS FACE

This all of course brings us to the apex, the ultimate skill of the Henchman. It is not enough, after all, to merely wear the black skull of your Mastermind on your chest, bark the words “YES, DARK DRAGON” with all your heart and carve up innocent bystanders in order to call yourself a TRUE Henchman. The Henchman’s greatest achievement is the ancient art of the Glass Face, a tome of vast knowledge and teaching unknown in the outside world but considered to be the Bible of Henchery. Within its black bindings, the Way of the Glass Face holds the key to your success.

Until you can look at this man and believably shout “GET HIM!”, you are not ready.

This mysterious book contains all the secrets you could ever possibly need, the lessons that will teach you how to be the very best you can be, including:

• Missing any target with any weapon at any range, with flawless accuracy.
• Training your bones to shatter like glass at the merest touch.
• Squandering overwhelming numbers against a single foe and losing without fail.
• How to follow the exclamation “LOOK! IT’S DEATHBAT SAM, SCOURGE OF THE UNDERWORLD AND SLAYER OF SEVENTY MILLION CRIMINALS!” with “GET HIM!” without choking. (Hint! Many drugs are involved!)

Advanced Gullibility (“Hey, look at that sexy lady over there who’s suddenly appeared in our top-secret fortress of undeniable doom that nobody should be able to get into! I sure don’t recognize her as being part of our army of evil, but she’s smiling at me and wearing an insanely low-cut leather blouse! She must want me! Here, let me leave my key cards and access passes out in plain sight, so I can go over there and MAYBE I’LL SCORE!”)

• Losing any fight against any ‘Hero’, no matter how young, old or laughably out-of-shape they may be.

It’s a pity that this invaluable tome of endless knowledge that would surely nab you the peachest posts in any evil organization has been lost to the ages. Once again, you are lucky like Ron Jeremy that I’m here for you. I happen to have a (limited!) supply of four-volume ‘Way of the Glass Face, narrated by xv bones’ cds in stock (act now!) that can be yours for the eminently affordable sum of $279.99, or three payments of $99.99 (credit card orders get a FREE suicide belt, stocked with cyanide capsules and short-range explosives)! Don’t delay, send your money to xv_bones care of OMGJeremy today!

GOING OUT WITH A BANG

This brings us to the final piece of the complex puzzle that is the life of the Henchman. Sure, the robbing and raping is fun – and who doesn’t like committing brutal crimes against humanity? – but you must remember that your ultimate purpose is to get your ass torn to shreds in the most horrendous ways imaginable. ‘Here to go’, as they say – what, you wanted to live forever? In a world filled with diabolical fuckbeasts like you? Fuck no. The Final Exit is the ONLY exit, and there are exactly two different kinds of deaths, my friends, Memorable and Forgettable. When Sam Slade, P.I. kicks in the door to your insidious den of damnation, do you want to be one of those guys nobody remembers or gives a flying fuck about? The ones who simply catch a bullet with their stomach and then just sorta fall over?

Fuck no. The biggest and most explosive deaths may be reserved for your Mastermind, but that doesn’t mean you can’t grab a bit of the ultimate glory and go out with a bang they’ll remember, the kind of flesh-shredding demise that will make every member of your family cry until they explode, the kind that makes us all proud of the day you stepped up to the plate and declared “YES, MASTER!”

Now, EVERY Henchman WANTS to get sucked into the whirling turbine of a stationary jet engine, but the sad fact of the matter is that most will simply get their necks broken and left to fall over in a truly undignified manner. You can, however, sort of ‘nudge’ fate along in securing a truly memorable mutilation by a simple thing called ‘careful preparation.’ Read over the following, and ask yourself, “How, exactly, DO I want to be messily removed from this mortal coil?”

Pay attention to your surroundings. Are you standing near any sort of industrial machinery that will assuredly fold you into bloody origami before yanking off your limbs or reducing you to liquid if you so much as look at it the wrong way? Are there any ravenous beasts of any sort nearby that you can be forcibly fed to? How about explosives, are you standing near any explosives? The ledge of this building you’re standing on, are there any expensive cars or spikes you could conceivably fall onto when you’re thrown off? Tubs of acid? Conveniently-placed meathooks? Rusty nails? Anything? If you’ve answered ‘no’ to any of these questions, you’ve failed before you’ve begun, and I am forced to give you the Frowny Face of Evil.

Three seconds away from a truly magnificent death.

Everybody loves it when shit explodes, and I do mean everyone. Saint or sinner, prophet or pimp, there’s nothing like a big, blazing boom to brighten up everyone’s day. Remember this, when encased in your snazzy car or sleek spaceship or hi-tech futuristic vehicle of weapony doom and engaged in shrieking hot pursuit of the Hero through crowded city streets, or along the barren wastelands, or through your interstellar fortress of unimaginable annihilation. Everyone loves it when shit explodes. All you have to do is make one… little… ‘error’ JUST as you’re careening towards the giant structure with the single safe passageway that the Hero will assuredly slip through, and you will make everyone happy. Everyone. You want to make us happy, now, don’t you? Oh yes. You do.

Carefully plan out your own weaponry. Anything you wield is sure to be vastly more dangerous to yourself and your peers than whoever you aim it at, and the more exotic your ordnance, the greater chance of it being used against you. Nothing says “DAYUM” like having your weapon ripped from your hands and crammed into your brain. Make it a habit of carrying around weapons unique among your confederates. This is a two-fold piece of preparation, as it also gives you the chance to steal the spotlight for a few seconds and show off your home-grown Nunchaku skills before you are shot repeatedly in the face.

Insubordination. You know, sometimes you just can’t trust a daring do-gooder of truth and justice to kill you in the manner you so desperately deserve. Sometimes, you need to take one for the team and show off just how diabolically evil your Mastermind truly is, by mouthing off to him at just the right time. All it takes is a few simple profanities, a little well-placed doubt and the sentiments that maybe YOU should be running things around here, and you’ll be up to your neck in psychotic, mind-controlled weasels before you can say, “OH GOD MY JUGULAR”.

Failure. “Well, fuck. Looks like the Rebel Scum have escaped yet again. Sure didn’t see that one coming. No, no, you stay right here, I’LL go inform Lord Vader, really, let ME do it.”

JOB WELL DONE!

The rest is cake. Tasty, chocolate cake with strawberry filling and those little icing flowers that everybody fights over BUT YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM THEY’RE MINE STAY AWAY OR I’LL CUT YOU UP LIKE A PAPER SNOWFLAKE

Ahem

I can help you no more, young apprentice thugs and murderous bastards-in-training. The rest you must do for yourselves. Follow this learning and follow it well, rob, rape, pillage and plunder, obey the greater evil and never hesitate to make the world a little worse for the rest of us.

Go forth, brave Henchmen.

And I’ll see you in Hell.