The Wrong Genre

"Building Relationships"

"Oh, you're alive," Flashmob stated, seeming mildly surprised when Stravarius walked through the door around twenty minutes later. "We'd thought Maestro killed you."

"For the last time," Maestro's voice drifted out of the kitchen, "if I was going to kill one of you it would be Interdit, not the one fool who believes in the purifying power of heroism." Stravarius, a bit confused, realized that this time Maestro had said 'Interdit' with perfect pronunciation. "Regardless," the villain continued, entering the room with a delectable-looking sandwich in hand, "I'm not currently planning on backstabbing you. I simply need to figure out the extent of your powers in order to create the most effective plan of attack."

"Are you cooking, Maestro?" Romulus asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway as Maestro took a seat at the table. He had smelled the sandwich from across the headquarters.

"For myself," Maestro replied, taking a bite of his newly-made chicken sandwich and glancing smugly at the head minion. Romulus stared unblinkingly back. Zakum was approaching from behind. Stravarius and Flashmob watched, completely at a loss as to what was happening.

Zakum steadily got closer, eyes flashing between the sandwich and his boss' face to check if he'd been noticed. It seemed he hadn't; Maestro, eyes still turned towards Romulus, put the sandwich down on the plate in front of him. The clone's hand reached towards the sandwich, heart pounding, and just when his fingers brushed the plate-

"Ouch! Maestro," he whined, pouting at the piece of silverware pinning his hand to the table.

"Don't touch my food," Maestro said in reply, picking the sandwich back up and taking another bite while looking challengingly into Zakum's eyes.

"He— Was that— Ouch?" Stravarius stuttered.

"Where'd the fork come from?" Flashmob asked, mind flatlining in shock and only able to catch onto that one question.

"Maestro takes his sandwiches very seriously," Romulus smirked the heroes.

"You stabbed him! With a fork! All the way through his hand!" Flashmob snapped, getting her wits back enough to yell indignantly before turning to glare at Zakum, who was poking the vertical tableware, "And all you say is ouch?"

"Dulled nerve endings. 231 didn't respond well to pain," Maestro continued flippantly.

"But... you didn't take it away completely? I mean, he can still feel." Stravarius asked, looking on in morbid curiosity as Zakum began wiggling the fork free.

"232."

Everyone, other than Romulus, waited for him to expound a bit on why that hadn't worked out, but Maestro merely raised an eyebrow at their expectant faces before taking another bite.

"Maestro, one of my fingers won't bend," Zakum complained. Maestro glanced over to see his clone giving him the bird.

"I'll fix it when we get back to the apartment tonight," he scowled, reaching out and bending it for him. Zakum merely scrunched his nose a bit at the strange sensation. "As long as I'll have to waste my time on that anyway... Flashmob, you told me you can light things on fire without blowing them up?" The woman nodded hesitantly. "Light Zakum's hair on fire."

"Right after you stabbed him? No!"

"Maestro, you're a good guy now," Stravarius chided, "and we're your allies, not your minions."

"I don't need a haircut that badly!"

"It's an experiment you dolts. Zakum's hair is fireproof, 248, and I need to know if lighting fireproof substances is harder than lighting flammable substances."