The writer's cellphone buzzed. He stopped typing and answered the call.
"Good afternoon, High C," said a female voice with an obvious English accent.
The writer's eyes immediately glazed over. He pushed away from the desk in his home office and said, "What is it you desire, Ms. Collins?"
"Please, dear boy, call me Siren," the woman responded.
"Yes, of course, Siren. I beg your forgiveness."
"It is granted, High C. I am SO glad I gave you that post-hypnotic suggestion, my mesmerised minion, so you would fall under my spell instantly whenever you hear my melodious voice. It saves quite a lot of strain on my vocal cords."
"It WAS quite ingenious, Siren," the spellbound scribe said, a slight smile on his face. "I am ready to do your bidding."
"Splendid. I have an important project for you. It has come to my attention you wrote only one fan-fiction story about me this past season. That is unacceptable, my good man, simply unacceptable. As you know, I absolutely adore stories about myself."
"I'm so sorry, Siren. I've been busy with work and haven't had the time–"
"You haven't had the time?" the British beauty asked incredulously. "For the Siren, you shall make time. I want at least three stories written about me for next season. Is that understood, sir?"
"Yes, Siren. Your wish is my command."
"One more thing, High C. Once, just once, could you write a story in which I defeat that infernal colonist Batgirl once and for all?"
"I have tried to do so, Siren, but the webmaster of the site keeps changing the endings so Batgirl wins."
“One way to solve that problem, High C, would be to start your own site, in which I always emerge victorious. You could call it . . . The Siren Triumphant Homepage!”
“I will do that, Siren.”
"In the meantime, you shall furnish me the Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! webmaster's name and phone number. I shall deal with him myself. I believe he could use an attitude adjustment."
"Of course, Siren. Here's his number. . . ."
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