"The storm approaches, Batman," I murmured as he watched me, trying to guess my next move. "The flood waters gather. This is only the begi--"
And then the foul beast responded. He'd somehow managed to produce a smoke capsule from his belt and threw it hard against a cement wall nearby. The wisps of smoke drifted toward us, and before I could respond, his boot connected with my hand and knocked the Lightning Rod to the ground. Somehow he was on his feet again, and determined to attack.
I couldn't let that happen. I dove for the floor and reached the Rod. Two quick jolts to his thigh and lower back brought him down again. It was all I could do to keep from blasting him to oblivion in my rage, but I remembered how long I've been planning all of this, so I restrained myself once more.
Sparing him another speech, I simply gave the side of his head a good smack with the weighted end of the Rod and he was out.
I knew the belt had to come off immediately. I rolled him onto his stomach with some effort and unbuckled it, then dragged him by his boots to the metal scaffolding which plays such a key role in my scenario. He was a good 20 pounds heavier than I'd expected, so I am glad I didn't have to carry him much farther. The fact that his costume, like mine, was soaking wet from the rain only added to his bulk.
I stood him up and propped him against the scaffold, then set about fastening him to it. The metal wires I've used are excellent conductors of electricity, and I've increased their conductability with a specially designed grease. According to my calculations, it's only a matter of time before the building--and his wretched body, of course--is hit by a blast of real lightning and he's fried to a crisp before my very eyes. It may come slowly, and it may come fast; nature takes its own time on its course of destruction. But destroy him it will.
In the meantime, I check on him via closed-circuit cameras. When he starts to show any signs of coming to, I return to his side with my Rod and give him another jolt back to dreamland--just sharp enough to knock him out for a few minutes. I want him conscious enough to know his fate and scream for mercy, but I can't risk any escape attempts.
Heavens above, it's truly a beautiful night: soaking rain, thunder, lightning, and the promise of eventual annhilation. Glorious!