Cohost writing prompt: @Making-Up-A-Villain — Villain who is an 11/10, no notes
Hi leave a message after the beep— says Kira's answering machine, and beeps, and then Magistrix Paramount yells at it, sharp and high with fury: "Pick! Up!"
Kira smiles meanly, mutes the TV, and leans to grab the cordless handset from the coffee table.
"Manic pixie girlboss," she greets the irate supervillain. "What's up?"
"I'm holding the annual Geitsplaatz City celebrity charity gala hostage!" Paramount rages. "The champagne was spiked with an antigravity formula, the skylights are plastered in writhing A-listers, and I'm threatening to break the glass with a sonic cannon and release them into the sky!"
"Wild," Kira says, snuggling into her bathrobe.
"Where are you!" Paramount demands.
"At home watching BBC prestige period dramas," Kira says. "Ordered in some lo mein. Might have some quality time later with my vibrator and a head full of posh English girls in whalebone and too many petticoats—"
"You had tickets!" Paramount says accusingly. "You won them in a raffle! I have a new haircut and I'm wearing Vera Wang and I look amazing and you gave your tickets to some dreadful married environmental activists who wear Birkenstocks and sort their recycling for fun—"
"Well, maybe you should have been more subtle about rigging the raffle," Kira says smugly.
"You're supposed to be here!"
"Before or after the Sugarglider turns up to punch you?"
"This is not about that coke-fuelled pissant," Paramount snaps. "This is about—"
"Making an example of whatever unfortunate I dragged along as my plus one?" Kira suggests.
On the TV's muted live gala coverage, Paramount — on stage, gripping the podium white-knuckled with one hand, her phone jammed under her chin, raygun jabbed into the face of the kneeling, sweating MC — actually stamps her foot.
"Have fun with Sugarglider, Asshole Galore," Kira tells her, and hangs up.