The Wrong Genre

Genre Shift (part 2)

Romulus wandered unhurriedly through the streets. He needn't return immediately, Rabastian wasn't going to escape in ten minutes after all, and he doubted some extra time would matter that much. He'd already taken his time changing into his civvies; taking off a tie and putting on some sunglasses took a surprising amount of time when in a comedy. Everything ended up lost, backwards, or stuck. Actions were much better; that barely took one slide in a montage.

"Here we are," he muttered, finally spotting a shop that sold chandeliers. "Hello?" He called, walking in and casually pulling out the modified gun.

"Hello! What can I do for you..." The chipper girl's voice faded off when she saw the ray gun, but it was more out of confusion than anything.

Honestly, Romulus didn't know how Maestro hadn't figured out they were in a comedy just because of that. If they had been in anything else the gun would look much more dangerous.

He supposed the fact that Maestro hadn't figured it out was supposed to be comedic.

Grumbling darkly, the girl wouldn't take him seriously if he just threatened her and demonstrating was such a hassle, he lifted the gun to point up at an angle and shot.

After the resulting crash, screams echoed through the shop, an alarm started going off, and the girl stood shaking in her high-priced shoes. Those types of expensive tastes were undoubtedly the reason she was working at all. What a shame that this would probably come out of her paycheck.

"I'm looking for a chandelier," Romulus started calmly, a serene smile curving his lips. He had learned from Maestro, after all, who was undoubtedly the master of staying unnervingly mild-mannered. Unless he was in a comedy, apparently. "It looks like this," he produced a picture of the smashed chandelier.

"L-like... Like that one?" The girl asked, pointing shakily to the left and down. Romulus followed her finger and, lo and behold, there it was.

Looking exactly like in the picture.

Apparently, that had been the one he'd shot to demonstrate the gun's power.

The usually-unflappable head-minion barely restrained his curses. Now he got it. Now he understood why Maestro hated comedy so much. For the audience it was hilarious. For the hero it was like a day of nothing but luck. But for the villain... for the villain, everything went wrong. Maestro's power was to know how to use the genre of the day to his benefit or at least counteract the more negative effects, but comedy was literally impossible to account for because the whole purpose was to ruin their plans.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Romulus fixed the girl with an irritated glare.

"Yes, except not broken."

                                                                                                  -----

"Have you noticed that this pit is covered?" Stravarius asked, standing on said clear floor and looking down at the tigers below.

"Yes," Maestro answered shortly, having given up protesting the hero's presence. Plus he was mostly focused on not falling the twenty feet to the ground and disabling the swinging axe without cutting someone in half. Except maybe Stravarius, but he doubted he'd be that lucky.

"Isn't that bad design for a death trap?" Stravarius continued, not seeming to realize how much Maestro wished the comedy would work on his side for once and the floor would break sending the hero into the pit. Preferably with an undignified shriek.

"It's probably the trigger," Zakum supplied, seeing how Maestro was busy ignoring the irritating goodie-goodie at the moment. "The glass will stay until I let the trigger go, at which point it'll retract and the tiger's 'll jump up and eat me."