Just Another Day's Work
“I mean, — ugh! What sort of villain ARE you, anyway?” She asked. Her arms crossed, she examined his outfit with one eyebrow raised. Clocks and watches of various sizes swung from the shiny black and gold lycra of his costume.
He stopped midswing to blink at her uncertainly. “Uhm? I already said, I’m TimePiece. I mean —” he coughed, and stuck out his chest, and raising the black iron clock hand he carried in his hand, he cried, “I am TIMEPIECE! And the HAND of TIME has come for YOU, Girl With the Disdainful Stare!” He pointed the sharpened end of his clock hand at her, dramatically. Its gilded edges glittered dangerously in the sunlight.
“Yeah, I got that. It’s not the worst schtick I’ve seen.” She said, dismissively. “I mean, it is creative, using a clock hand — where’d you get that from, Big Ben? — But …” She swept him a glance, up and down, managing to include scorn for both his hair and his shoes with a twitch of her lips. “I’ve seen the look done much better by the Clockwork Maiden. Also … isn’t that a barometer?” She pointed at a particularly large and ornate-looking mechanism, affixed prominently to his chest. Her black-painted fingernails glittered dangerously in the sunlight.
“Huh?” He glanced down at his chest in dismay, snatching at the instrument with his free hand to peer at it frantically. He began to stammer, but the Girl cut him off, pinning him in place with her trademark stare of disdain.
“As a timepiece, I think you need to have a little more precision.” She said, sardonically. “Try harder, next time. I’ll be … watching.” She gave a ringing laugh and turned to walk away.
The villain known as TimePiece slumped, defeated.