Impressive. Something I can see in an evil arsenal.

It's the best of the best - it leaves you smelling like you've gotten into a catfight with a French hooker. An elusive scent, to say the least

Incredible... oh, goodness, I forgot to check the weather report. If you wouldn't mind, Captain?

An occluding front headed to the North, low barometric pressure for the next several days. Chance of rain, 67%

If you'll look out the window, you'll notice that it's sunny, highs in the low to mid 80s, with no chance of precipitation.

I'm in a bunker right now, no windows.

You'll also notice that your cappuccino is soy. I had it delivered this morning.

Oh dear.

I'm aware that you can't see outside, but allow me to assure you that sixteen ISS missiles are aimed at said bunker.

Lovely.

Now, I have some actual questions not related to your pathetic perfumes, if you don't mind.

Oh, um, ok.

First and foremost, the costume. Midnight blue? Really, Freedom? That's black-lite.

There is a difference. Midnight blue is perfect for late night crime fighting; you blend into the environment.

So you want to approach your enemies with stealth.

Who wouldn't? No reason to wear the red and mustard outfit. Just because one is a hero doesn't mean one shouldn't be fashionable.

I'd argue the underpants-on-the-outside point, but we'd be here all day. Stealth sounds an awful lot like deception, though. Wouldn't you want to announce your presence so you can, I don't know, promote freedom or whatever?

I go by the Army field manual. If they can use Predator drones, I get to be sneaky.

Alright, so you're sneaky. You're also a strung-out drug addict, from what I've read of your ghostwriter's work. Doesn't the white powder show up really abysmally on the midnight blue?

Whoa whoa whoa? Strung out whoszwa? I will go on record right now. I don't use performance-enhancing drugs. I'm not A-rod. Sure, there are late night stakeouts and occasionally you need a little pick me up for the night, in which case you might see the White Lady, but other than that, my only other vice, other than scotch, is grass, and the only performance this enhances is my ability to eat Cheetos.

I think your superiors would disagree. I understand there was a little... misunderstanding with the United States federal government. A stint in rehab, as well. It's all here.

They gave me a choice. It was either rehab or convert to Scientology. But I'll admit, yes, I did have a problem with the Feds vis a vis my Senate Confirmation hearing. But that was mostly over how many pushups I can do. They asked if, as I at some point allegedly claimed, I can do a million push-ups. I couldn't exactly recall.

So how many is it? Six? Seven?

It was around a million, give or take.

Your need to prove yourself seems to run up quite a property damage bill... right now I'm looking at photos of a Home Depot you destroyed, a small island nation with a floundering economy because 95% of their disposable income went toward a... oh dear god, a "Freedom Fortress?" I'm not seeing the heroism here, Captain.

Wait a minute. I provide inspiration to the tiny island nation of East Tiny, where the Freedom Fortress is kept. They think I'm a god. It helps them get on with their mostly miserable lives, harvesting dirt for export. Plus the tax advantages are off the hook.

It never occurred to you that you could invest some much-needed revenue in schools, public transportation, and jobs for outsourced telemarketing?

I let the Super-economists handle that.

The Super-economists...

Yes.

Well, East Tiny has a national debt about equal to the United States, percentage-wise, so they're doing a bang-up job.

There are occasionally issues when a Hero lives part time in an underdeveloped land. But I'm no Angelina Jolie - I can't just adopt the entire country.

Right, you're too busy losing the International Justice Prize to an idiot who can run really fast... oh, gosh, that was rude of me. How did that feel, Freedom? Do you enjoy pathetic defeat?

I feel as if my shins were kicked. By titanium-heeled boots. That makes me feel... sad. Hurt.

Does it make you feel like maybe you want to snort a line? I can wait.

(coughs) No I'm fine really. I just hope the team gets here soon

Oh, they won't be coming. Rest assured they will not be here before I'm through with you.

I think I have to go...

Heading off to call your lawyer? He won't answer the phone. His credit card was stolen this morning. He's on the phone with an automated voice-answering service trying to explain away $45,000 worth of surfboards purchased in Cuba.

So I'm stuck here. Being interviewed by a madwoman. Swell.

It should probably balance out your NPR interview.

They were fabulous. I probably shouldn't have crushed their building with my fist.

To find out how Lady Unpleasantries completely and utterly destroyed Captain Freedom, tune in for the stunning conclusion to this mind-blowing interview.

If you or someone you know is awesome enough to deserve space on the ISS site, or if you know another superhero we can decimate, contact King Oblivion, Ph. D., or Lady Unpleasantries.