The metaphorical camera fades onto a blank page. The sound of music fills the air, brass instruments in particular booming. The composition makes way for a small crawl of yellow text.
After the last of the text fades away, the score of music suddenly stops.
The page glitches from its original screen to a new one. A bald man with sunglasses, sitting in a chair, appears.
“What if I told you that the world is not as it seems? We like to think that we live out our lives in a perfect and completely logical world. Well, we do not.”
The man rises from his seat, slowly pacing around the room.
“I do not know how, but we as a species have somehow entered a hyper-realistic cyber imitation of the world, that has been called… The Mitrix.”
The man stops suddenly. He looks directly at the viewer.
“Batman and Rorschach were not killed by the Joker from sheer murder. He used a device. Some reality-bending machine. Supposedly it takes an average person and does something. It changes them. It makes them… battle someone. Sometimes complete teams of people waging war on them. But not with warfare, mind you. They use odd tactics. They rap. I’ve seen it happen again and again. Even the strongest willed heroes have fallen victim, like Batman and Rorschach.”
The man studies the room he is in, worried. He focuses back on the viewer.
“My name is Morpheus. I would like to recruit you, these… these readers… to help us. I am a part of a lone band of humans. Real, living humans. We are still sentient. We know of the Mitrix.”
The page flashes rows upon rows of green coding.
“I must now inform you of what is ahead for us. This may look like coding to you, but I see what is in store for us all. A number… 18. Eighteen battles? Now, the Joker’s reign is certain, but his fall… ambiguous. And then… a sequel to a battle we’ve seen before. And here I see… espionage, deceitful espionage. Double crosses. Bounty hunters. A message that reads… “More non-fictional characters.” It looks like the world is ending in this one. Aaaand… the Mitrix itself. Coming to a close.”
Morpheus sits back in his chair. He removes the sunglasses from his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“February 19th. My god.”
“...Season three is upon us, Morpheus.”