Villain Central

As famed reporter Tintin becomes hesitant in his adventures, some of the various villains come together in a private meeting to discuss matters and new ways of achieving their desires.

A small number could not make it because of: imprisonment, being dead or just weren't important enough to be given an invitation.

Rastapopoulos sat at the top of the long, elegant table with a fat cigar sitting between his lips. The Greek-American tycoon had gotten tired of his plans failing thanks to Tintin, and so had brought together those who has also failed in their villainous strive to a top secret location... somewhere.

Muller sat on his left, tapping the wine glass half full of red impatiently with his black eyebrows arching with irritation.

Opposite was Colonel Sponsz, grinding his teeth and nearly out-of-control fingers ready to grip the side of the table in anger. Tapioca meanwhile was drooped with his head resting in his arms, making a slight sobbing noise and still upset over the loss of the Revolution.

Allan however sat with arms folded with a grimacing smirk to Rastapopoulos, hoping for his boss to start soon. Very soon.

Although not as well known, Bobby Smiles was the second to furthest away, and was notably handling a cigar between his lips too. Of course Rastapopoulos knew all gangsters smoked obligatory cigars.

Rastapopoulos wished he had more villains to work with, but business must be business. He stood up from his comfy, luxurious chair and made a loud 'ahem'. They all looked up at him with a particular evil or vengeful gaze.

"My fellow villains and evil-doers, thank you for attending my meeting tonight. Apologies for the wait, for that I had hoped a few more would appear. Ah well... their loss..." He let a thick smoky 'o' slowly fly from his mouth, "I have called you here to discuss malevolent matters, our deepest and grandest desires we wish to perform without the foil of a certain nosy reporter!"

"I believe the majority of everyone's desires here have been crushed already, Rastapopoulos," groaned Muller.

Tapioca choked a few tears as he tried to speak, "Gr-au-fffp-WAAA."

Sponsz put a hand to his forehead, "Like the General here, we have all gone through the turmoil, at least TWICE, of being defeated by Tintin. I do not see what we can do to stop him."

"Exactly Sponsz," replied the German, "nothing we ever do is under the radar!"

"Look all of ya, the boss is rather hoping for optimism in this matter," Allan snarled.

Rastapopoulos nodded, "Yes that is my point. We are here to rid our minds of Tintin and start fresh!"

The suave American at the end of the table chuckled.

"Ah! Maybe Mr Smiles has an idea then!" Rastapopoulos said sweet and sickly.

"Perhaps, Mr Tycoon. I'm still surprised none of you have managed domination yet!"

At that instant aside from Rastapopoulos, everyone on the table turned to hate Bobby Smiles. Sponsz and Muller looked at another and fumed together.

Smiles continued, "As much as Tintin appears an easy target, it's always turned out he's a hard nut to crack resulting in us being sent to the jailhouse. Not to mention his annoying mutt. Anyway, what we need to do is simple; Provide a fatal hit to his reputation and career as a reporter!"

Muller snorted, "You're the one to talk!"

"Eh? What you sayin' about me?"

"Your career as the Mob Syndicate leader was ruined, was it not?" Muller folded his arms and smirked; "Besides you're one of the earliest to be defeated by the pest."

"Whose t'say I haven't come back with a vengeance?"

Rastapopoulos smoked the fat cigar and exhaled, "Smiles has a very good point. All we need to do is think on how to deflate his motivation and confidence."

"But wait, Tintin appeared less than motivated when he came to South America, so I recall."

Allan glanced at Sponsz, "Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean he looked hesitant and cynical over rescuing Madame Castafiore; almost as if he didn't want to come."

Tapioca sat up with reddened eyes, "But he did, and I went down whilst that darn Alcazar came up with the Picaros."

"So Tintin is finally growing out of interest? Perfect!" cried out a joyful Rastapopoulos.

Sponsz shook his head, "He is still wary, however. His mind is sharp regardless."

Muller sipped some wine, "The boy does not know when to fully remove himself from justice for one moment."

"Unless..." said Smiles, "Unless, we do something utterly unpredictable and un-villain like for a long period of time and especially in the public eye, Tintin will grow uninterested and simply no longer care!"

"And what's that?" echoed the room with cynicism.

"We announce on national televisions that we are no longer villains and instead pretend we're giving all our money to fake charities, thoroughly insisting we've changed for the better of the community!"Bobby Smiles raised his arms as though he were God, smiling and laughing like a ruler...

Those sitting at the table, including Rastapopoulos glanced at one another and smirked as a sign of advance 'lets do evil stuff to that fool'. Rastapopoulos laughed as he exhaled the cigar smoke.

"My, Bobby Smiles that IS creative."

"Why thank you, I'm touched."

Rastapopoulos' hand crawled just under the table hovering by a strange red (HINT HINT) button.

"However, I do not think that will get us anywhere and nor do I think you'll do the same. Now say goodbye!"

Smiles banged his fists on the table, "WHAAAAT? IT'S A PERFECT IDEA, I DON'T SEE WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT AND IT'S NOT LIKE ANY OF Y-"

Pressing the red button, Rastapopoulos proceeded to open the floor under the American gangster. Smiles fell down, screaming like mad and disappeared into the darkness. A small splash was heard at the bottom.

"... I'm... I'm ok..."

Rastapopoulos sat down as he was cheered on by the rest of the villains, "Now, back to business..."

Muller grumbled, "I hate that guy."

"Don't we all," replied Sponsz, "However on the topic at hand, what is there that we can do? We have tried the low keys, high keys, being as subtle as possible and being as outrageously public as possible. There is nothing we can do to stop Tintin finding out our motives."

"That is true, Sponsz," Allan growled.

Tapioca pleaded to Rastapopoulos, "Is there anything we can do? ANY IDEAS? I want to be able to be happy again."

The bi-nationality tycoon briefly thought to himself, "Well... there may be something..."

"What is it?" They all asked.

"Hmm... it will have to take a week to happen... Are we all free in 7 days time?"

Everyone got out their diaries and checked a week in advance, "I'm always free now." "It's my sister's wedding the day before so I might make it, if I'm not too taken by the free bar..." "Sponsz, we're meant to be having our badminton match at 4, we can always change it to later?" "Yes, yes, Muller."

Rastapopoulos clapped his hands, "Fantastic! We can all just about make it."

"What about Mr Too Proud For His Own Boots down there?" Allan said.

"Oh he'll be rejoining us. I feel generous with my currently unused traps..." the tycoon winked and laughed.

"Well..." Muller shrugged, "At least we have one person to pick on."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

MEANWHILE...

"Er... hello?

Hello, anyone else here?

I can't see in the dark... and my glasses are broken... double blind...

I wonder if I still have my matches...

Oh great, they're ruined by the sewer water.

This suit will need permanent dry-cleaning. No doubt it'll cost me a bomb...

What was wrong with my plan anyway? It was flawless!

... Then I WAS FLOORLESS.

*sigh*

Guess I'll just have to wait til I'm taken out of here..."