The Wrong Genre

The Inevitable

My life is over.

That was Maestro's thought as he peered glumly out of his window in the middle of the night. It had been three weeks since the whole "Stravarius incident", and he had been stuck in a comedy ever since. Though it hadn't been as bad as that first day- dramedies and action-comedy instead of pure or romantic.

That meant things only went comically bad when he really needed them to go seriously well. Though, because both were more dramatic, some of those occurrences did actually work on his behalf.

He had woken up five minutes ago to the grating sound of a teenage boy (who was definitely not in choir) serenading his street in some horribly misguided attempt to catch the attention of the teenage girl who lived in the apartment next to him.

At least it wasn't Zakum serenading him again; that wasn't something he would like repeated, and he completely blamed Romulus for that scarring night.

This was an unfortunate, though not uncommon, occurrence seeing as the girl had somehow enchanted at least half of the boys in her school and every single one of them had a low enough IQ to believe this was the way to get her affection. It made him wonder about the quality of education these days.

Or it would have, if it wasn't three in the morning.

Dragging himself out of bed and heaving his head up just enough to leer over the windowsill, a vicious smile tore across his face.

Because while the lovesick singers were a common occurrence, the kid standing within clear sight of his window was not.

The teen was obviously new to the street. Everyone knew to steer clear of the third story window fourth from the left.

Maestro, immediately reaching for the gun he always kept on his nightstand (because it was marginally closer than the one he kept under his pillow), was not going to kill the kid or even actually shoot him. As satisfying as that would be, murdering annoying teens would bring bad Karma. Also, the normal police (who were much better at their jobs than superheroes) would get involved because of the relative lowness of the crime.

Because the effective people could go after murderers, but the crazies got those who had plans to poison the water supply. What a system.

So he shot out the window over the kid's head. But, due to still being half asleep, his hand dropped just a smidge.

The kid now had the thinnest, stupidest-looking faux-hawk in the history of mankind. The shot had literally shaved a path through his hair.

Which was physically impossible.

That was when he had realized he was still in some variant of a comedy, completely crushing any enjoyment he could have gotten from the teen's shell-shocked face. And that was the cause of his dark thoughts.

He proceeded to sink to the ground and lie there in a near-comatose state until Zakum cautiously entered his boss' house (because there was no way Romulus was going to risk waking Maestro up after what happened last time) nearly five hours later and found him lying on the floor, apparently having fallen asleep with his eyes open in a glare that was nearly burning the curtains.

Because his life sucked. And it was all due to that stupid blondie with an intelligence level that matched his hair color. Stravarius had broken something during that fateful day three weeks prior, he was sure of it- never before had Maestro lived through the same genre twenty one days in a row.

The last record was ten days, and that had been a drama; it needed a lot of buildup for the finale.

The stupid comedies hardly had their own plotlines, forget some secret overarching objective.