DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO DC/WARNER BROS.
He couldn't believe it. He was out. He was ACTUALLY OUT.
A few weeks ago, a villain called The Scarecrow launched a deadly attack on Gotham. Music Meister had never heard of him before, but one thing he did know; he was out of prison thanks to the guy. About time, he thought to himself. If only Scarecrow had bothered to remove the inhibitor collar around his neck. Since he'd escaped, he'd only managed to pull off a few petty crimes with gangsters. He had. To work. With Gangsters. "Ugh", he muttered to himself as he thought more and more about his ordeal. Not everyone can be Batman. Not everyone has the power to make a difference. He wanted world peace, with him at the top, of course, but still better than the war-ridden hell-hole we live in today, right? Well, apparently the small-minded bigots at the top of Gotham's food chain didn't think so. They called him one of the 'Worst Criminals of All Time'. "The nerve of these people" he mused to himself. But, that was then, this is now. Now he had to focus on removing this torture device strapped around his neck. If he pulled at it, it would emit a shock. Enough times and it would cause permanent damage to his voice box. If that happened, well...his powers came from his voice. He was born with them. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but hey, if a guy can be born with a mutation that turned him into a freaking crocodile, he can have mind control. "Personally, I'd rather mind control" he said, thinking about Killer Croc to himself. A loud knock at the door interrupted his thinking. "Hey man, you OK in there?" an equally loud voice called. Music Meister sighed. It was one of the gang members he was now forced to work with. "Yes, yes I'm fine. You can come in if you like." So his 'partner-in-crime', whose name was Marcus, stepped in the room.
Then a look of horror spread across his face.
Music Meister was pointing his signature staff to his Marcus's head, charging what looked to be a deadly blast. "I'm sorry Marcus, but I'm afraid for us to continue business together, you're going to have to remove this." He tapped the silver collar around his neck. "I-I dunno how, man! Please, man, I'm beggin' ya! Don't do this-"
With that, a blast silenced his voice- and his life. Blood pooled around his head, soaking Music Meister's expensive shoes. He sighed. "Well, next time I'll pick someone with a brain. Obviously, all his head contained was blood." He chuckled to himself, remarking the stupidity of his former partner. He cleaned up the blood and decided to watch so TV. He flipped over to a comedy station, not wanting to watch anything too dark at the moment. Then the station displayed a warning logo, and the news abruptly cut in. A large man who looked like he hadn't bathed in days appeared on the screen. "Hello, Gotham. I don't have much time. They'll be looking for me after this. Please. Stay in your homes. Do not go outside. I repeat, DO NOT go outside. GCPD has contained many of the escaped inmates, but a few have yet to be seen and are still at large. They are: Deathstroke, Firefly, Harley Quinn, The Scarecrow and The Music Meister. Yes, that's right, The Scarecrow is still at large. Stay in your homes. Stay in your-" Music Meister heard a loud gunshot, and thought it had came from behind him, but he soon realized it had came from the TV set. The news reporter crumpled to his desk, and Music Meister had to witness even more pools of blood. Someone had sniped him, probably that Deathstroke guy. He was an assassin after all.
"Well then" he said. "Time to make my move."