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There they gathered, in a dark corner of the universe known to few. They sat around a table, as though conducting a business meeting. Were one to listen in, that individual would soon discover this was no ordinary meeting that was being conducted.

At the head of the table stood an imposing figure. Tall, bearded, and muscular, he commanded respect with his aura of power and authority. The name he had been given was Jarek.

He let the others chat amongst themselves for a while, enjoying their refreshments of coffee--the evilest of beverages, obviously--and cookies. Dark chocolate cookies, to be more specific. He glanced at the clock, which read 3am, and spoke for the first time. "Let us see to the task at hand."

His voice, though not deep like one would expect, still carried over the buzz of conversation. Quiet reigned over the room, which was, of course, dimly lit to give some atmosphere.

"Welcome, brethren, to the annual meeting of Vile Villains Voicing Their Vices. We have a lot on the agenda today, so I'm pleased that most of you were able to attend. Shall we commence?"

A sound of general agreement arose from the people gathered around the table. Jarek nodded. "Wonderful. Let us begin with the first item on the agenda. Should we keep our name or change it?"

"I'm dissatisfied with it." The speaker, a man in black hooded robes, said. "There are too many v words. It makes us sound like fools."

"It does not!" This time, a crazed fellow from the other side of the table spoke up. He stood abruptly, and his headdress slipped down in a comical fashion. He readjusted it and pointed an accusing finger at the first man. "And even if it does, it causes our enemies to underestimate us."

"Now, now, Master Chen," Jarek said. "There is no need to get so passionate over such a trivial issue."

"Trivial?!" Chen shrieked. "When we drew names from a hat, mine was chosen. And because I came up with it, by definition, it is not a trivial matter."

"It is fine," the hooded man said. "I will drop the issue, for we have more important things to discuss. Though Chen's opinion does not hold much weight, as he is not even an original character."

"Says the cliche villain who has the even more cliche title, the Dark Master." Chen huffed and plopped back into his chair, which happened to be his elaborate throne.

"Moving on," Jarek said, "our next item is . . ." He furrowed his brow. "Why I was declared the head of these meetings." He glared around the table. "Who here wanted to discuss this?

Jasper, the dark metallic cyborg with glowing green veins and eyes, raised his hand. "I did. I was merely curious as to why you were selected when you are perhaps the newest addition to the gang."

"You forget your place. My story has been worked on for the past eight or nine years. I believe it is safe to say that I'm the oldest villain present, story-wise. You, on the other hand, have been around for five years. Enough said."

"I submit to your experience," Jasper said, though his tone indicated the opposite.

"The third item is the matter of what is classified as the most wicked drink and dessert for these meetings."

A lady halfway down the table nodded. "I figured I should mention it, since tea is quite the contender for the 'most evil beverage' category."

"Duly noted." Jarek paused, squinting at the woman. "I'm sorry, I can't recall your name at the moment."

"I'm Darlinja the Magistrate," she said, not bothering to disguise her annoyance.

"You don't remember since she's just from a flash fiction," the Master said.

"Well, aren't you special, Master High-and-Mighty?" Chen growled. "Because your novella is such a good story. It has some of the crappiest writing I've ever seen. And don't get me started on the romance." He proceeded to fake-gag.

Voices were raised around the room, until Jarek slammed a fist down on the table. "Silence! We must put aside our differences for the time being and discuss the real problem on the agenda: the Author himself."

"He has ignored us!" Captain Maalen roared. "I haven't even been properly imagined yet!" He gestured at his body, which was vaguely dressed in pirate attire, but everything was flickering and unclear, like a fuzzy TV screen.

"He had the audacity to start penning the novelized version of my tale," Karnu said, folding his arms over his samurai armor, "for but a mere couple of days before discarding it for another project. Where is the honor in that?"

The treasure hunter with the theater mask, Frayen, stood up. "You think that's bad? He didn't even finish my flash fiction!"

"So he has abandoned most of you, that much is clear." Jarek said. He received an affirmative noise from those present. "That must mean he has been distracted by something else."

"Like your story," Jasper rumbled.

"But for how long? Faithfulness doesn't seem to be one of his greater writing traits." Jarek glanced at everyone. "So what's the issue?"

"He's lazy!"

"He plays video games instead."

"He'd rather waste time on his phone."

"He blogs too much."

Jarek froze. "Who said that?"

A warrior got up from his chair. He nodded at Jarek. "I did."

"You are . . .?"

"I am known as Vortex. I believe the problem to be his blog. Time that could be spent writing is instead used on that infernal blog of his." He shook his head and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which had a black streak down the middle. "If we were to convince him to give up blogging, I'm confident that he would focus on us instead."

"Indeed," Darlinja said. "I vote that we launch an assault and capture him so that we may . . . convince him to change his ways."

"What say you all?" Jarek gestured around the room. Virtually every hand shot into the air. "Then it's settled. We will ambush him, but we will also need time to plan."

"Isn't he holding a blogoversary party with his heroes?" Frayen asked. "If so, that would be the perfect time to attack."

"Agreed," Jasper said. "He'll be least expecting it then."

"If you are in favor, say 'aye,'" Jarek said.

A chorus "aye"s flooded the room. Jarek nodded once in satisfaction. "All right, if we're in agreement . . ." He grabbed the nearest convenient calendar and flipped a few pages.

"We attack on June 21st!"