[When the feed comes on, there is an open view of the Joker seated at a very old, but very posh, desk. There are two torchier lamps on either side of him, in their respective corners. There is a faded picture of some long-forgotten military commander behind him, standing in a heroic pose, and the picture is surrounded by moth-eaten drapes that may, at one time, have been very expensive.
He's wearing the uniform of a Nesrecan general; it looks like he pulled it out of a long-forgotten closet. Rather than four stars on his epaulets, there are four smiley-face buttons. He's fully painted, and gazing at the camera with a docile smile. He offers a faux salute before leaning forward and looking directly into the camera, unblinking, piercing with those ratty black eyes.]
Afternoon, sir. I thought you might benefit from a message by yours truly, since I'm about to make you a very good offer, assuming you're willing to take matters a bit more seriously than our good friend, Mayor Demyan. You see, I'm in a position to offer you something you want: Credinta.
Oh, sure, you could take anything you want, with as strong a standing army as you have, but it begs the question... why haven't you, already? Hm? You know, the clock is ticking, and Rome wasn't built in a day. I can make the siege... easier. After all, I do have my methods, as you can see by the local news broadcasts. And that's just the warm-up, friend. By the time I'm through, I could have Credinta eating itself alive, just begging for someone, anyone other than their buffoonerous mayor- maybe you, even- to lead them out of the dark.
But there is a price. Nothing's free, and I think you'd know that.
[His expression lightens a bit, and he leans back in his chair. The intensity has faded; he heaves a sigh.]
...or I could, y'know, just leave the whole thing alone. Plenty to do here at home. Busy man and all that.
Whaddya think?