Kek-Mor stood up from his chair, which groaned under his weight. He was a rge man—not fat, exactly, but soft in the way of someone who'd spent too many years behind a computer screen and not enough time doing anything requiring physical movement. His beard was unkempt, his clothes slightly too small, and his eyes held the particur bitterness of someone who considered himself unappreciated by the world.

  "My story," he began, adjusting his thick gsses, "is about intellectual compatibility. Something none of you mouth-breathers would understand."

  "Here we go," Jor-Van muttered.

  "SILENCE, caveman!" Kek-Mor boomed. "You want to hear about Some Dude ruining lives? Let me tell you about Zara-Van, the most beautiful and brilliant woman in New Kandor. PhD in quantum mechanics, legs that went on for days, and an ass that could make a grown man weep."

  "Cssy," Kev-El said dryly.

  "She was PERFECT for me," Kek-Mor continued, ignoring the interruption. "Finally, a woman who could appreciate intellect over brawn. Someone who understood that true compatibility comes from mental stimution, not physical attraction."

  Nim-Quel shifted uncomfortably. "Didn't you meet her in a chat room for people arguing about theoretical physics?"

  "It was a FORUM for academic discourse!" Kek-Mor snapped. "And yes, our first conversation was a three-hour debate about the practical applications of dimensional theory. She was impressed by my knowledge of quantum mechanics and string theory. We had real chemistry—intellectual chemistry."

  "So what went wrong?" Kev-El asked, though he suspected he knew.

  Kek-Mor's expression darkened. "What went wrong is that she was needy. Constantly wanting 'attention' and 'quality time' and other emotional nonsense. I'm working on a revolutionary new algorithm that could change the way we understand space-time, and she's bothering me because I missed our dinner reservation."

  "How many dinner reservations did you miss?" Nim-Quel asked quietly.

  "That's not the point! The point is that great minds need space to work. I was on the verge of a breakthrough that could have made us both famous, and she couldn't see past her petty need for constant validation."

  Jor-Van leaned back in his chair. "Let me guess. She got tired of being ignored and went out with her friends."

  "She went to a bar with her girlfriends for something called 'self-care night,'" Kek-Mor spat. "I told her she was being dramatic, but did she listen? Of course not. Women never listen to logic."

  The other members exchanged gnces. Even for the League of Ineptitude, Kek-Mor was pushing it.

  "Anyway," he continued, "while she was out wasting time socializing, a Css-7 Destroyer Bot broke free from the Kandorian Defense Center and started tearing up downtown. Military-grade weaponry, energy shields, the works. The kind of thing that takes a full squadron of our best fighters to handle."

  "But?" Kev-El prompted.

  "But some dude shows up," Kek-Mor's voice dripped with venom. "Flying around in that ridiculous tight costume, posing for the cameras. And what does he do to this highly advanced killing machine? Does he use strategy? Does he analyze its weak points? Does he apply any kind of intellectual approach whatsoever?"

  "I'm guessing no," Nim-Quel said.

  "He backhanded it. ONCE. One smack and a trillion-credit piece of military engineering crumples like paper. Then he stands there flexing while chunks of robot rain down around him, and every woman in a five-block radius starts swooning."

  Kek-Mor sat down heavily, his chair creaking ominously. "Including Zara-Van. My girlfriend. My intellectual equal. She took one look at this brain-dead muscle freak and apparently forgot everything she ever learned about the value of intelligence over physical prowess."

  "She gave him her number too?" Kev-El asked.

  "Worse. She asked HIM for HIS number. Right there in the wreckage, while the city's still cleaning up robot parts, she walks up to him and says, 'I'm Zara-Van, and I think what you did was amazing.'"

  Kek-Mor's voice cracked slightly. "You know what he said back? 'Cool name, babe. You look smart. I like smart girls.' That's it. That's the level of discourse that won over my girlfriend of two years. 'You look smart.'"

  "Did you try to fight for her?" Nim-Quel asked.

  Kek-Mor looked at him like he'd asked if fish could fly. "Fight for her? What was I supposed to do, challenge Some Dude to an arm-wrestling contest? The man can kick buildings into rubbish. I'm a theoretical physicist with carpal tunnel syndrome."

  "You could have, you know, talked to her," Jor-Van suggested. "Maybe apologized for neglecting her needs and promised to be more attentive."

  "Why should I have to apologize for having priorities?" Kek-Mor snapped. "She knew I was working on something important. A woman who truly understood me would have supported my work instead of demanding constant entertainment like some kind of emotional vampire."

  The room fell silent. Even for the League of Ineptitude, this was uncomfortable territory.

  "So she left you for Some Dude?" Kev-El asked finally.

  "She left me for the IDEA of Some Dude," Kek-Mor corrected bitterly. "Turns out she didn't want an intellectual equal after all. She wanted someone who would pay attention to her, make her feel special, treat her like she mattered more than quantum equations. She wanted emotion over logic, presence over genius."

  He looked around the room at his fellow failures. "But here's what really gets me: Some Dude probably doesn't even remember her name by now. He's got a new girl every week, and she's just another notch on his ridiculously tight belt. She threw away a meaningful retionship with someone who genuinely understood her mind for a chance to be another entry in his little bck book."

  "Have you talked to her since?" Nim-Quel asked gently.

  "She tried to call me once, about a month after she moved out. Said she wanted to 'expin her feelings' and hoped we could 'work things out.' As if I'd take back someone who chose brawn over brains the moment she got the chance."

  Kek-Mor's hands were balled into fists now. "Some Dude didn't steal my girlfriend, guys. He just... exposed her. Showed me that she was never really the intellectual partner I thought she was. She was just another shallow woman who talked a good game about valuing intelligence but folded the moment a pretty face with perfect abs showed up."

  Jor-Van raised his can again. "To Zara-Van. Another woman who couldn't appreciate what she had."

  "Cheers," the others muttered, though this time the toast felt even more hollow than the st one.

  "Alright," Kek-Mor said, settling back into his protesting chair. "Jor-Van, you're up. Let's hear how the golden boy ruined your life."

  Jor-Van smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression. "Oh, my story's different, guys. See, Some Dude never stole my girlfriend."

  The others looked confused.

  "That's because I've never HAD a girlfriend. But I've got a theory about why that is, and it all comes back to him."