So, I came up with some sort of rtd concept-y thing and wrote out a crummy second-person-style-intro-thing to get an idea of how to write this thing. I may not follow through with this, and if I do, it's not likely to be soon.
You’re breathless as you - as well as a handful of others - slip into the darkened warehouse reserved for special meetings of the Ministry of Menace. And you’ve got fine reason to be, with the suspicions that have arisen as regarding the meeting’s topic. You settle into one of many empty chairs arranged in a radius around a stiff looking figure in a business suit. It can’t be ignored that the Ministry’s numbers have been dwindling in recent days, as shown by the low population of the room, adding up to a mere six villains, counting yourself and the individual at the room’s center. Before you can ruminate on why this may be, the gaunt man in the suit clears his throat and begins speaking in a cold, almost monotone voice, tinged with the remnants of an english accent.
“I believe that’s everyone... If there’s anyone missing, well, I certainly don’t give a damn. If they can’t be arsed to come to an emergency meeting on time, then they fully deserve to miss out. At any rate, onto business...”
He takes swift, purposeful strides across the room, handing out hefty newspapers which he produces from seemingly nowhere in particular. As he hand you a copy, you recognize it as the evening addition of the city’s heavily biased and poorly written local gazette. Your eyes drift over the cover story, despite having read it over a handful of times before coming here.
“POSSIBLE SUPER-HOMICIDE?!
This morning, residents of our fine city awoke to an awe-inspiring burst of light emerging from the roof of an office building belonging to Postremo Industries. Our reporters have uncovered evidence through a mixture of police hassling and journalistic machismo that suggests that the source of this brutal show of power is the most deadly, yet seemingly heroic, vigilante in our city, the Nuklean(well-known by readers of our periodical to secretly be a socialist monster eroding away the american ideals of this country). Of course, as there is no doubt that such force can’t have been unleashed for no reason, we believe the target of this aggression to be the supervillain dubbed by the police(who are immensely lacking in creativity, might I say) as the Mechanist-”
The well-dressed man clears his throat again, distracting you from the article.
“In spite of that rag’s distinct lack of journalistic integrity, its claims are true. The leader of our little... club has come to a most untimely demise. I’m sure you all are fully aware of what this me-”
One of your compatriots(someone you can’t quite recall the name of, actually. From the looks of his costume, he’s supposed to be moth-themed or somesuch) raises an objection that was troubling your mind as well.
“But er, sir! Aren’t you uh... him?”
The well-dressed man smiles widely, baring his oddly silvery looking teeth. He walks over to the mothguy(maybe his name was Shade-fly? Definitely something dumb like that), planting his hand firmly on the weirdly fluffy looking shoulder of his costume.
“No, no. I am not. I’m simply the fallback system. And what a finely programmed fallback I am.”
He chuckles, his hand glowing with a pale blue light, which before long spreads across Shade-fly(?)’s body in a cascade of sparks.
“Poor, poor...” He pauses, unsure. He leans down, examining a name-tag pinned to the newly made corpse. “Ah, right... Nightning-bug. But one cannot disrespect your betters like that...”
“Anyways, as my creator has escaped the mortal coil, one of you will need to take up his responsibilities as the Nuklean’s arch-rival. And before any of you ask, I can’t do it. I have duties to perform that are far more important...
And do try to be civilized while you decide who will be my master’s successor. Hm... I believe that covers everything. A more descriptive explanation of this contest’s rules along with a complimentary tote-bag can be found beneath your seats. Note that this building will be destroyed momentarily, so you all should be leaving soon.”
You collect the leaflet(and the fairly nice fabric-y bag) from under your seat and start on your way out as the warehouse loudly begins to burst into flames.
Let it never be said that the Mechanist lacked style. Even if that style is patently ridiculous.
Just wanted to see if you folks thought the idea has potential to be amusing/entertaining. Or if you guys think that my writing's terrible or something like that(I mean, looking at it, it does seem kinda bad). :v
I'll probably end up changing certain aspects of the intro and such, but eh, this is more or less an accurate description of the concept as it exists in my head.