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Villains I dont see very often; mute. Mute villains are the best, nothing can convince me otherwise.

One idea thats been on my mind is a mute villain confessing to the hero, either through sign language, or a perfectly executed scheme. You’re choice :))

Not sure if this counts, but I ran with it. Might try this again after I gather some ASL knowledge. Hope you enjoy :)

A Silent Movie

It wasn’t exactly easy to get Hero sat in front of the cinema screen. In fact, the planning for this trap had taken over sixth months. Not to mention the money it took to buy this building off foreclosure, and the multitude of investments into Hero-proofing the location.

It was even harder to get said hero to stop yelling long enough to pay attention to the image being projected from the back of the room. Not that their sense of hearing was needed for this experience, but Villain imagined Hero would appreciate the lack of noise-based distractions, including sounds they themselves were making.

The theater was notably large, probably the most expensive showing room of its day. That is to say, the upholstery was a little outdated. The popcorn had been swept off the floor, the swirling carpet surprisingly clean. The velvet of the seats did not appear stained, and the cupholders were absent of any discarded snacks or tickets.

The glow of the emergency exit lights were the only thing illuminating the room, and they revealed a dim image of the hero situated in the center of the third row, which was optimal seating in the villain’s opinion.

Clearly, Hero did not agree, considering how hard they were pulling at the restraints to try and exit their carefully selected theater chair.

It was futile, of course, and the hero finally stopped straining when the villain appeared a row below them, quiet as a mouse, standing with a finger pressed to their lips.

Villain retreated when the hero quieted, letting their attention shift to the screen and this special showing. Images flicked past, and Hero became engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen.

Shown was a news reel Hero recognized as the time Villain had crashed their Election Day speech. A zoomed out map of the city, marking City Hall with a red square. Grainy footage of two figures dancing around next to a dumpster. Once again the map appeared, now with two squares pasted on top. The pattern continued, and Hero was amazed.

It was an agglomeration of every moment they had spent together, every public battle, every nighttime-shady-alley encounter.

There was only one reason to collect these momentos, these reminders. It had all meant something to the villain.

The complete lack of kernels on the carpet certainly pointed to a level of dedication and commitment to this scheme.

Maybe, they were hoping it meant something to the hero, too.

Another scene zoomed out a final time, revealing all the markers spread across the city. Only, now, Hero noticed, a rather distinct pattern had formed.

Villain moved like a phantom, appearing again, this time at the hero’s side. The ropes at their wrists fell away like magic while Hero gazed at the awkwardly hovering villain. They presented the hero with a glittering object hung from a chain held loose around their fingers. It was a large ruby gem, expertly cut into the shape of a 3-D heart.

Stolen, no doubt, Hero suspected possibly from the large jewelry exhibition that had just entered town.

The screen flashed bright, and lit up the hero’s face as it contorted in surprise. They processed the scene as fast as they could.

A heart of red markers, a heart of ruby, a heart fluttering in their chest, a heart laid open in front of them.

“Oh,” Hero breathed, “Oh.”

Villain sucked in a breath.

This was it, this was the moment they got rejected because they couldn’t-

“I had no idea.”

Of course they didn’t know, it’s not like Villain had ever spoken about it.

Preparing automatically for the rejection, Villain started to withdraw their hand, cold-as-steel demeanor returning to them with all the familiarity of a security blanket.

It was so stupid of them to think that they deserved any kind of reciprocation, so stupid to think that the hero could possibly-

The hero snatched the charm from their fingers before they fully withdrew.

“I didn’t say no,” they spoke softly, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

They reached out their other hand, wrapping their fingers over the still-outstretched hand of the villain. Instead of elaborating, Hero pulled the frozen criminal closer, connecting their lips in a gentle proclamation.

Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

For the Greater Good

(Hero POV)

I walked into the warehouse alone. No weapons, no mask, no backup.

Every rise of my feet felt like a climb up a mountain, every fall feeling like a step off a cliff. I could have sworn I didn’t take a single breath as I walked into the wide open space, crates and barrels scattered around in a typical warehouse fashion. The lights that remained on buzzed from the corner of what appeared to be a break room and from various machinery peppered by the garage-like doors.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going, just that I was supposed to be here, at this exact time.

I arrived on the block two hours early, and spent every last second before 2 o’clock alternating between pacing and curling up into a ball and rocking myself on the empty sidewalk. I finally stepped into what I estimated to be the middle of the space, virtually incapable of taking another step. My muscles quaked and I considered if I should just give in to the exhaustion and lie right here until someone came and got me. My pride suggested I stay upright, so I settled for a comprise of leaning heavily against the nearest weighted crate. I crossed my arms in what should have been a nonchalant appearance, but it was really just to keep my hands from shaking by my sides.

I took a few deep breaths and checked my watch.

2:02

God, I wanted to laugh. If there was any humor left in this situation I would have. I tried to keep my mind blank, waiting. But as the minutes ticked on, my determination waned.

I couldn’t leave.

Wouldn’t.

Lightheadedness swam through my brain, and I relented and lowered myself to the floor as black creeped in around my vision. I laid flat on the concrete ground, kicking my feet up onto the slats of the crate I was previously leaning against. The lights above me were dim, but I still closed my eyes in aversion to the brightness. I needed dark, calm. I needed to be anywhere else but here.

I checked my watch again, then pillowed my hands behind my head. Tears welled up in my eyes against my will.

2:05

Screw pride. Pride went out the window a long, long time ago.

I let the thin little salty rivers run freely down the sides of my face to pool uncomfortably at my ears. I was surrendering to my enemies, why not surrender to the tears too?

An eternity passed before footsteps finally echoed around the building. I didn’t bother to get up, not even to move. I didn’t bother to stop crying either, in fact the tears may have only gotten stronger as I stayed rooted in place.

“Sorry for the delay, we had to make sure you weren’t followed,” a voice announced itself. I didn’t turn towards it.

“You doing alright down there?” It asked, sounding infuriatingly genuine.

“Perfect. Never better,” I choked. There was no hiding the crack in my voice now.

“Shit dude, I didn’t think this would get to you that bad.”

What did you think was gonna happen? I was just gonna skip to your door with a couple of flowers and some handcuffs all gift wrapped for you with a wide ass smile on my face?

“Do you…need a minute?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A minute or two passed before I gathered what was left of my composure. The tears stopped flowing and my head stopped swimming. I removed one boot after the other from the ledge they rested on and started the slow journey back to my feet.

“Ready?” The voice I finally matched with a sight asked. Henchman.

I sniffed, wiping my nose on my sleeve before nodding solemnly. This was by far the most courteous capture I’ve ever had the pleasure of falling victim to, hilarious given the circumstances.

“I’m gonna pat you down,” he warned, and I nodded my acknowledgment. Gentle hands brushed my body and found nothing, as promised. A light touch gripped my arm and pushed towards a path between the crates.

“Let’s go.”

We walked in silence for a while, I was too close to the emotional edge to break it. Henchman had no such reservations though.

“I could tell the guys the extra time was from a fight,” he suggested lightheartedly.

I merely shook my head.

“Yeah you’re right, probably a bad idea.”

Despite myself, a small smile crept past my lips. His words brought the only comfort I’d felt all day.

With every step I could feel my clarity returning.

I was going to be fine.

We walked out a side door and outside into the gravel, where it appeared a caravan awaited. I might have been flattered if I didn’t feel so damn helpless.

“One Hero, clean as promised,” I was presented to the arc of people gathered in various states of masked.

“You were supposed to secure them, Henchman,” Villain looked me up and down, then shot at annoyed look at the man at my side.

Henchman did not reply, only looking from me to the crowd closing in around us, then back to me and returning to Villain knowingly. So I definitely looked as bad as I felt; it was nice to know my face was making its debut red-blotched and tear stained no doubt with the edition of heavy bags under the eyes.

Villain simply shook his head, then stepped forward to grab me.

“Wait,” called another voice, and I struggled to identify its origin until a blue and gray clad person stepped forward. “How do we know it’s them?”

He stared at me in blatant disbelief, and I found the energy to be a little offended.

Like anyone else would do this. Like I would take the risk to let them.

Various people exchanged looks, and I struggled to believe that no one had actually thought this part through. Several looks pinned me down expectantly, and I also found the power to be a little bit annoyed.

Of course their lack of foresight would become my responsibility.

Nonetheless, my eyes roamed the crowd, before pinning down an unsuspecting figure in a suit with red chrome outlines. I pointed to them, before pulling down the collar of my shirt to reveal a thick pink scar stretching horizontally about an inch below my collarbone. Chrome stepped closer through the crowd to see, then nodded his approval. Villain stepped forward to grab me once more, but he was stopped by someone decked out in forest green.

“Your hand,” they indicated, and I brought up my arm to reveal the back of my right hand and yanked down my sleeve so they could trace the jagged scar carved down to middle of my forearm.

“That enough? Are y’all convinced?” I spun around, pinning several people right back with their own gazes. I seemed nothing like the person on the warehouse floor.

No, with every passing second, I was feeling more and more like a hero.

I guess they were in fact convinced, because I was finally escorted into an SUV and placed in the middle of a bench seat sandwiched between Villain and a larger man I barely recognized. The whole process was pretty ego-inflating honestly.

Unfortunately, Villain did finally get his wish of restraining me after the car had rolled to a stop and I was transferred into a building via an underground garage.

I didn’t think.

Couldn’t.

My fate was in the hands of my enemies, and I had just handed it over.

A ‘Cat-napping’

(Prompt by @autocrats-in-love : The hero stared at the villain with fire in their eyes. The villain feigned innocence, raising their eyebrows in surprise./“What brings you to my home?” The villain asked with fake confusion./“Give. Me. My. Cat. Back.” The hero said, loading their gun.)

Pistachio was missing.

Hero knew it from the second they entered the too-quiet apartment, hanging up their keys as an uneasy feeling settled over them. There was no ‘meow’ to greet them, no paws pattering against the floor to come demand their afternoon meal.

Pistachio would never miss a meal.

The hero did not even need to glance at the note left on the kitchen island. They knew exactly who was responsible. They also knew that there would be hell to pay for this egregious act of feline abduction.

They grabbed their gun from the bedroom safe and checked to make sure it was loaded.

One busted down door later, and the hero stared at the villain with fire in their eyes. Villain feigned innocence, raising their eyebrows in surprise.

“What brings you to my home?” They questioned with insincere confusion.

Hero was in no mood to play pretend.

“Give. Me. My. Cat. Back.” The hero ordered, pulling back the slide of their pistol with a click and chambering a round.

Villain stiffened in their chair, casual features flashing with fear at the hero’s abrupt action.

“I hope you’re here to negotiate-“

The cold metal of the barrel dug into the underside of the criminal’s chin, effectively shutting them up. Hero had been on them in a second, and it was clear they would be pulling no punches today.

“I’m here to do no such thing. Where is he?” The deadly-serious hero demanded.

Villain didn’t speak, but their eyes betrayed them, flicking to the doorway that led out of the living room and into a separate common space. Hero abandoned the fearful villain in favor of locating their furry companion.

The room they entered was…not what they expected. Perhaps they had imaged their feline son would be caged in a dingy basement, fed only the driest of cuisine, and endlessly yowling to be saved.

Instead, they laid eyes on a pet-lovers dream. A gigantic cat tree covered one wall, blurring the line between tree and straight up castle. On a lower branch, some kind of brush-plus-laser-pointer contraption could be seen.

Villain entered the room behind them, but stepped back when Hero threw them a glare that had them thinking it might be time to start picking out headstones.

Against another wall sat a grand purple cushion, complete with a tasseled canopy. Across from that bed sat a litter box that would be better described as a beach. The rest of the scratchable-looking carpet was littered with pet paraphernalia, feathers and small plush mouses galore.

Pistachio, in all his glory, sat unbothered at the bottom of a cardboard box sitting on the floor in the center of the extravagant set up.

Hero immediately rushed to his side.

There was no mistaking his trademark-white-fur-mustache, standing out against the sleek black that covered the rest of his body. He gazed up at the hero with wide-green eyes, not a worry in the world about being cat-napped and held for ransom.

When Hero scooped him up into their arms, gun long forgotten, he purred easily.

“Come on, Pistachio. Let’s get you home.”

As they pushed past the gobsmacked villain to exit the house, they muttered a threat that shall not be repeated.

Villain didn’t dare pet a hair out of place on Hero’s cat ever again.

Alone

“Does it ever get lonely?”

Villain’s nemesis turned their head slowly, caught off guard by the question that broke the careful silence between them.

“What?” The hero questioned dumbly, trying to process the sudden inquiry.

They weren’t by themselves. Their enemy was sat at their side, now giving them a look that Hero couldn’t quite decipher.

“Like, people treating you differently, I guess,” Villain stumbled before continuing, “Don’t you ever just want to feel normal?”

Hero froze, furrowing their brow in confusion.

What wasn’t normal about their life? They ate, slept, went to class, did their work. Saving the world was just…a hobby.

Everybody had those, right?

Hero shook their head automatically.

“Thats just what happens when you lose the mask,” they dismissed, “People treat you differently. It is what it is.”

They weren’t sure what to make of their enemy’s abrupt curiosity. Their face reveal was nothing more than a practical decision. One they had never doubted.

“So you don’t miss before?” Villain queried.

What was there to miss about anonymity?

Now, they didn’t have to worry about struggling with secrets, goggle malfunctions, or their identity being used against them. It made everything easier. The decision had helped them do their hero work more efficiently and live their daily life without constant mistruths.

“Of course not.”

So why did it feel like they were still lying?

They didn’t regret it, they knew they didn’t. It’s just that, somewhere in the process of making life easier, it had somehow simultaneously gotten harder.

Without the mask, there was no hiding. Now, there was only staring at every turn, high expectations in every area. Now, their friends could only share sympathy, not empathy. Without the mask, at the end of the day, it was just them.

“Yes,” they breathed.

“Yes, what?”

The response was too far removed from any question to be sure what the hero was referring to.

“Yes, I miss it. Yes, I want to feel normal. Yes, I feel so alone.”

Their words crescendoed, then fell back down to a whisper at the final confession.

The silence greeted them again like a familiar friend as a few seconds passed.

“You’re not, you know,” Villain spoke into the air.

It was Hero’s turn to ask, again, “What?”

“Alone. You’re not.”

Villain looked up from their fiddling hands, attempting to share their sincerity through their gaze.

Hero’s throat tightened.

Weren’t they?

Sometimes they wished they could just glue the damned thing back on their face. It wasn’t what was best for them, but it was less scary, being ignored. No one knowing them. No one seeing them.

The lies had been destroying them, but the truth was just so much harder to live.

The disbelief showed through on the hero’s face as they picked absentmindedly at their nails.

“Just because you’re my archenemy, doesn’t mean you’re my only enemy.”

Their eyes met, and Hero realized Villain was serious.

“You…fight other people?”

“Of course I fight other people,” the villain laughed lightly, “Did you really think you’re the only hero in the world?”

They didn’t, but…they didn’t think it was the same. It was so easy to get caught up in their own coverage, their own issues. Plus, the superheroes operated on a different level. They couldn’t possibly struggle with something as trivial as an identity reveal.

Hero opened their mouth, but no sound came out.

“I’m gonna give you some numbers,” Villain pulled a pen out from their pocket, grabbing the Hero’s hand from where it rested and writing ink down across it, “Call them. It’ll help, I promise.”

Hero blinked down at the symbols now written in blue on dorsal side of their hand.

It was a strange day to be taking advice from their nemesis, but they’d be lying if they said they didn’t want to try.

Maybe, they really weren’t as alone as they thought.

I humbly request to see hero and villain going to build a bear 🥸

(Anything for my bestest beta-reader o7)

Hero and Villain Go To Build-a-Bear

When Hero entered the mall, they could never have imagined Villain’s affinity for stuffed animals, and the chaos it would cause.

The first red flag should have been the look of glee in their eyes when they spotted the “Build-a-Bear Workshop” sign.

Before Hero could blink, about a dozen children were running out of the store, screaming at the villain’s spontaneous arrival. Frantic parents followed, and soon Villain had the store all to themselves.

By the time Hero entered, there was already a deflated animal in their hands. A worker reached for it to begin filling it with stuffing, only for Villain to snatch their hand back and gesture for her to leave. Hero shrugged helplessly.

Who was she to argue with the notorious villain taking over the store?

The employee stepped back as Villain commandeered the stuffing machine, retreating to behind the counter.

Villain completed and repeated the process by heart, filling the animals to their preferred firmness, kissing a small silk heart, and retying the stitching in the back.

After the sixth stuffing, Hero let out a long sigh.

“Are you done, yet?”

Hero certainly was.

“Of course I’m not done!”

Hero sat in the corner, head in their hands as Villain stuffed yet another bear.

This time, when Villain came to present their new child to the hero, there was something suspicious in their smile. As Hero lowered their gaze from their face to their hands, they quickly understood why.

“IS THAT ME?!”

Sure enough, Villain held the Hero-branded teddy in their arms, only its signature suit was swapped for none other than a striped prison jumpsuit.

Why Build-a-Bear even carried jail-themed attire for plushies, Hero had no idea.

Just when Hero thought that was the cherry on top, Villain squeezed the look-a-like bear right in the center.

A creepily accurate voice spoke the words, “I surrender.”

Hero blinked, equal parts impressed and creeped out.

Satisfied by their reaction, Villain turned their sights to the accessories section.

The criminal gasped as they laid eyes on a standing red sign. At the same time, Hero groaned. The sign said ‘buy-four-get-one-outfit-item-free’, and Villain certainly took that to heart.

A purple skirt, a doctor’s outfit, flip flops, red rain boots, two pairs of roller skates, a bucket hat, carrying bag, and so many shirts Hero lost count. The floor was littered in forgotten items, looking like a tornado had hit the store. Hero doubted Villain could see past the items stacked in their arms to even pick up anything they dropped.

Villain heaped their haul on to the countertop in front of the poor employee who definitely did not get paid enough to scan all of that.

The pile contained a pink frog, a green frog, a tie-dye frog (Villain insisted they were a family, and therefore could not be separated), a Darth Vader, a Marvel WandaVision pair, and some kind of fluffy cow with horns.

Oh, and of course the imprisoned Hero bear, complete with sparkly pink sneakers.

Finally, this ordeal was coming to an end.

“Excuse me,” Villain asked, “where do you keep the Villain bears?”

Oh no.

“The…Villain bears?” The confused employee parroted.

“Yes. My bears,” Villain confirmed with confidence.

“Right. Erm…,” she looked around in a show of contemplation, scanning the bins of plushie skins against the wall.

“We seem to be…out of those.”

She typed some probable nonsense into the screen in front of her before putting on a low-effort disappointed face.

“They were limited edition, I’m afraid. Sold out at every store.”

Hero was impressed by the lie. Maybe they needed to speak to the manager about a raise.

The news barely put a damper on the villain’s excitement, they were still vibrating with joy as they put in their email and printed out eight birth certificates.

Once the total rang up, Villain turned to face the hero expectantly.

“Oh no,” Hero stepped back in realization, “The deal was I accompany you peacefully to the mall and you don’t destroy the city. You said nothing about me footing the bill.”

The Villain simply smiled.

“Surely villainy pays enough for this,” Hero questioned, eyeing the amount on the screen with wide eyes.

Shouldn’t a villain just steal it all?

“You do like this city, right?” Villain questioned back, raising an eyebrow.

Ah, the cost of heroics: several hundred dollars.

You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid (Sequel to Spy?)

(Inspired by the song ‘You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid’ by The Offspring)

A kick, a slap, a left hook, too many punches to count.

At first, the attacks were directed at Hero. They were surrounded by enemies that were bonding over the shared betrayal and, naturally, they had felt the need to release their frustrations. The hero had a black eye and a bloody nose to prove it. After all, there wasn’t much they could do to avoid the blows while tied to a chair in a second safe house.

Well, they could talk.

“I was having a great hair day, and you all had to go and ruin, it didn’t you?”

They all hit a little harder after that.

Beating up on the revealed spy only united the group for so long, though. Soon the blaming started, lots of ‘you should have known’ and ‘maybe you were in on it too.’

Hero may have…egged them on a bit.

A little suggestion here, a pinch of eye contact there, and paranoia took root like a weed.

The infighting grew, and Hero now sat largely forgotten in the center of the room. No eyes were on them, and no ears would be able to pick out sounds they made.

It was an opening, and Hero was not one to waste an opportunity.

They surveyed the group, determining none were so experienced as to know never to leave a captive to their own devices. The leader was nowhere to be seen. He disappeared after Speedy and Blueprint had helped haul them from the bus and was replaced by Mover, which was the best news Hero had had all day. A beatdown was one thing, but the villain’s ominous comment had left them unnerved.

It was too bad no one had bothered to sweep the floor of the safe house. Beneath the dust and paint chips littering the ground, Hero spotted a chip of broken glass. It took some shuffling and some straining, but Hero was able to get it securely wedged under their foot.

Now, for the hard part.

Listening once again for any lull in the fighting, and hearing none, Hero gritted their teeth then rocked hard to the left. They shifted to the right, repeating the process. On their third tip, they went crashing to the floor, just as they had intended.

They narrowly avoided smacking their head on the concrete as the wooden chair splintered with the impact. One seat leg snapped, allowing them to slide the glass up to their bound hands against the floor with their foot.

One hand, then two were free, and they headed quickly for the back of the room. When the door closed behind them, they allowed themselves to feel a little victorious. This new room was darker, and they took a moment to take it in before making a move. Empty crates and overturned pallets made it difficult to scan the walls. There was the door they came out of, but they struggled to find an exit.

“What was that we said about running?”

Fuck.

Villain stepped out of the shadows and Hero waited for the others to materialize around him. Only, the silence stretched, and the others didn’t appear.

He was alone.

Somehow, that seemed worse.

He was infuriatingly confident, looking like a man that had never entered a situation he couldn’t control. He was comfortable, too comfortable for someone whose prisoner was in the process of escaping.

A thundering of footsteps alerted the hero that their headstart had expired. They whipped their head to the door, bracing to run again the second the crew busted into the room.

“It’s locked.”

Hero looked back to find Villain swinging a key carelessly around his finger.

Oh, so this encounter was no coincidence.

Finally, Hero saw it. There, on the right-hand wall was a door, its window glass boarded up. Freedom was only a few steps away.

The only problem was the man standing in front of it.

“The way I see it, we have two options here. I can let the rest of the crew in here, with you in a locked room, or…”

He paused dramatically while dread pooled in the Hero’s stomach. He continued his offer lightly, like it was of little consequence to him either way.

“You can come with me. Just me. Willingly, of course.”

A thousand questions ran through their mind—‘Why would I?’ ‘Why would you offer?’—And Hero fought to not voice them all.

Instead, they compromised, simply asking, “Why?”

“Last I checked, you’re low on moves, spy. Consider this me, throwing you a bone.”

The words ignited a helpless rage within the hero. He wasn’t wrong per se, but it was the way he chose to insinuate that they were a pitiful dog.

Though, they supposed, that was one step up from ‘rat’.

Hero kept their face carefully blank, trying hard to conceal the gears of decision turning in their brain.

They spoke, stalling for time, “And I suppose I have your word on this?”

The word of a criminal meant little to nothing to the hero. For that matter, no one’s word meant anything to Hero right now. Certainly not the word of a certain police chief.

“You can trust that I prefer to handle these things myself.”

Self interest. That, Hero could count on.

They sighed, barely audible.

“For the record, I don’t think this is the definition of willing.”

That seemed to be an answer in and of itself, but the hero still took no steps forward.

Villain’s smirk was barely visible in the dim light.

“What’s wrong? Not feeling particularly ‘eager’, Hero?” He mocked.

Hero scowled.

Saving them the embarrassment of walking towards their enemy, Villain strode over to them himself.

“How about ‘obediently’? Is that better?”

Worse. That was so much worse.

Hero could agree to being amendable, but their compliance would wear thin if he continued using language best suited to referring to animals.

Figuring a protest would only encourage him, Hero sealed their mouth shut. They expected him to grab their arm to lead them out of there, or to issue a series of commands. Instead, he pushed past them, heading towards the shouts and sounds of the scrambling crew.

Hero turned cold as he slid the key into the lock.

Their fearful confusion must have been written clear on their face, because the villain asked, “What? Gotta make it look good.”

There wasn’t enough time for Hero to process before the knob turned and enemies were pouring into the room. Angry faces fueled by the rage of a second chase barreled towards the hero.

“Don’t let them get away again!”

Now that Villain was no longer blocking the way, Hero headed for the door previously shrouded in shadow. With a click and a shove they burst out into the light of day.

Their eyes struggled with the drastic change, and they slowed to ensure they weren’t running into traffic. With a few blinks they were clear, and they spotted an alley to dart down that seemed to connect to a cross street.

Deja Vu hit them as they spotted a fire escape, and they decided not to try their luck more than once. Instead, they dodged behind a dumpster to double back behind their closest pursuer.

Hero had to assume they had, at some point, all split up, considering that only one criminal was within their sights.

He fell for the fake out, and Hero hopped over a garbage bag and took off in the other direction. They followed the street from which they came for only a block before they veered off in a new direction. Parked cars lined this avenue, and Hero picked up the pace as they passed the row next to the sidewalk. Their heart thundered against sore ribs.

Too many places to hide and strike.

In a crude justification of their paranoia, a figure leapt out from behind a tinted van, grabbing for the hero and catching their shirt in an iron grip. Hero kicked out and suddenly they were both tumbling to the ground. Their bodies smacked the pavement, but neither intended to stop their attacks.

Their shirt twisted them closer and another hand grabbed one of their arms, taking the limb out of play.

Only one arm, though.

Knuckles flew and landed right between the eyes. His body crumpled and Hero scrambled back, right into the waiting arms of the villain.

“Nice punch,” he commented, hauling them back up to their feet with a vice-like grip.

Well, at least they got to break an eye socket.

Hero’s knuckles ached as they were led around the corner. An SUV and another building awaited them, which they entered with fatigued muscles and throbbing bruises. They couldn’t help but think that tiring them out was part of the strategy at play here. ‘Willing’ was definitely a stretch, if the hand clamped around their arm was any indication.

Another safe house, another chair. This rope looked despairingly thicker, however, and the floor had been wiped clean by a more experienced captor.

Hero was not excited when said captor entered the room, leaning against the door with crossed arms and a look strangely akin to admiration on his face.

“You’re a pretty good liar, Hero,” he spoke, and it actually sounded like a compliment. “I’d like to put those skills to use.”

“You want me to work for you?” Hero laughed, despite their precarious position. A job offer was a far cry from what they imagined they’d be walking into after being discovered.

“In exchange, you’ll be protected,” the villain continued

Future tense, not conditional. Arrogant bastard.

Hero scoffed, “From who? You?”

“Among others,” Villain answered simply, evenly.

‘Others.’ Like the party hunting them down as they speak.

“I’m not the only liar here,” Hero pointed out, “you said letting the crew in was part of option one.”

“I believe I said letting them into ‘a locked room.’ It wasn’t locked, you got out.”

The confidence in his voice gave away that his phrasing was purely for show. He knew exactly what he had said.

A technically, and a boring one at that.

Well, they were already here, stuck in this impossible situation. Maybe there was a deal to be made.

Maybe, it could be sweeter than they thought.

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@atlaserine

Helloo I love your work I wanna just munch on it every time you post >:)

I have a request but you totally dont have to do it I bet your probably busy with others anyway lol

If you could could you do a scenario where the Hero gets pretty sick and cant go out, but they have a public reputation they need to hold on to. And the Villain owes Hero for saving them once so they have to go out and impersonate the Hero? And they start to realize how hard and miserable the Hero has to work after saving somebody? Tyy :D sorry if to specific lol

(Hey! Thank you for the request, it’s my first and I’m flattered! Hope you like it <3)

Calling In Sick

A faint jiggling could be heard from inside their desk. Villain sighed, hanging their head for a moment before opening the drawer and answering the call.

“I’m not interested in purchasing an extended warranty-” they began, only to be cut off by a familiar voice.

“It’s Hero, dummy.”

Villain pulled the phone away from their ear to glance at the number on the screen.

“How did you get this number?”

“That’s not important,” Hero spoke hurriedly, “What is important, is that I need you to be me for today.”

“You need me to be what now?” Villain questioned, raising their eyebrow in a show of confusion, despite being completely alone in their office.

“It’s simple, you just have to put on the costume-”

“Why would I do that?” the villain asked incredulously.

“Because I’m sick!”

Hero coughed pitifully for emphasis.

“Surely you have someone else you can call,” Villain replied, dumbfounded.

Was this a joke?

“Not on such short notice. Please, Villain, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Why would I care about your sterling reputation?” Villain laughed.

They were a villain, after all. Their entire role consisted of making the hero look bad.

A sniffle and sigh traveled through the speakers before Hero spoke again.

“You remember the City Tower?”

Of course Villain remembered the City Tower. They remembered the blaring of a horn, a hard shove on their shoulder, and the burning of skin against pavement.

How could they forget when Hero saved their life and never let them live it down since?

“Ugh! Seriously?! You push me out of oncoming traffic once-“

“Twice, actually.”

“What do you mean ‘twice’-”

“City park?”

Damn it. The pond incident.

“Fine! I’ll put on your stupid costume,” Villain grumbled.

A little impersonation was nothing compared to saving a life. Plus, if they really thought about it, the villain supposed the deception of the act was villainous enough to justify partaking in.

“Great! I’ll text you where to pick it up,” Hero informed them cheerfully before promptly hanging up.

A chime and a buzz came through the phone a moment later, and Villain gathered their things and headed for the door.

One finicky zipper and some shimmying later, and Villain was passable as the city’s golden savior.

Now what?

They wandered around town aimlessly for a while, getting a multitude of strange looks from citizens going about their day. They froze when they heard sirens whooping around the corner, before they realized that they were currently residing on the right side of the law.

Right. Think like a hero.

First order of business, save some people.

The spotted the red and blue lights, breaking into a sprint to follow them around a corner. They arrived at a building a few blocks later, and walked in just as a perimeter was being set.

“Hero! Thank God you’re here! My baby, he’s still up there!” A woman cried, pointing up to a balcony that appeared to be on the verge of collapse.

A boy hung off the side of it, feet kicking to try and find a grip on the wall.

Villain took off running towards the building, climbing three flights of stairs before they realized they hadn’t stopped to count what floor the boy was stuck on. They quickly located the nearest window and kicked out the screen, ducking their head out and looking down then up.

There, two floors directly above them dangled the kid, and it looked like he was loosing his grip.

His fingers slipped away, but Villain was ready. They braced their legs against the wall and leaned out as far as they could. As the child dropped, Villain caught hold of his forearm, stopping his momentum and allowing Villain to pull him inside to safety. The boy was crying, probably a product of the terror of falling combined with the shoulder that had just been wrenched from its socket.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” the villain-turned-hero repeated in a whisper as they carried the boy down the stairs and past the (too-late) emergency personnel that had flooded the building.

Stepping outside, Villain easily located the hysterical mother and making a beeline for her. The second she saw them coming, she burst into tears and broke out into a run.

Villain handed over the kid they had cradled in their arms to the woman who reached them at record speed.

Relief washed over the mother’s face while she looked over her son. She pushed his hair back behind his ear, whispering to him how worried she was and how glad she was to have him back on ground level.

Something changed when she saw his arm, however. Fury overtook her features as she realized that an injury had been sustained by the boy during the ordeal.

“You let my baby break his arm?!” She screeched, whipping her head back to the temporary hero.

“It’s not broken, ma’am,” they started to explain, “it’s just dislocated-“

“I’m going to be telling the news about this!” She spit, turning towards the ambulances on the perimeter and marching away with a huff.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” The villain could hear her yell as she walked away, injured-but-alive child in tow.

“I had no idea this profession was so thankless,” Villain murmured under their breath.

It wasn’t until they had to fight past the sea of cameras and wall of reporters shouting questions (that really sounded more like accusations) that Villain realized just how idealized they’d viewed the job of hero. There clearly was no simple fame and glory to be earned here. From what Villain could tell, it was mostly ridicule and media coverage masquerading as a reward for their heroism.

And no sick days?

Hero must be truly miserable.

If Villain was a little easier on Hero after that day, then nobody was any the wiser.

Chomp

Hero found themselves in quite a precarious position, swinging upside down with their foot caught in a snare.

Now, this wasn’t exactly uncommon for them. Getting caught in a trap was nothing new. Such was the perilous life of a hero after all. What was unusual, though, was the pit of crystal clear water beneath them.

Oh, and the dozen or so sharks swimming around in it.

They were suspended over a pool fit for Olympic swimming. Hero was no marine biologist, but they were pretty sure those sleek grey fish weren’t dolphins.

Coarse rope dug into their ankle, but Hero found they didn’t mind too much. They had the core strength to be able to reach the knot but, unfortunately, untying it would probably send them plummeting into the water, and Hero wasn’t particularly up for such a literal swim with the fishes today.

Deciding to save their strength, Hero hung limp, tucking their shirt into their pants and leaving their arms to flop loosely with gravity.

Soon, the one responsible for their current predicament made themselves known from the ground.

“Welcome, Hero!” The villain’s voice boomed excitedly.

There was no catwalk, nothing covering the top of the tank. That left Villain to stand next to the glass at the bottom and having to yell up the dangling hero.

Before Hero could think to ask what they were doing here, Villain answered unprompted, “I wanted to show you my new collection!”

“Is this…legal?” Hero questioned, the words difficult to form with the blood rushing to their head.

“Absolutely not!” The villain exclaimed.

Right. That was probably the point.

“Are they…ok?”

Hero blinked hard, trying to stay present in the conversation.

“Who? Bruce, Anchor, Chum, Brooklyn, Barbara, Mark, Lori, Robert, Kevin, Lennie, Daymond, Nado, and Krill?

Their processing was gradually slowing down but those names seemed…oddly familiar.

“The…the sharks.”

Hero supposed they didn’t look too unhappy, chilling in their own space, not circling for an impending meal. Hero certainly couldn’t claim animal cruelty with the size of the aquarium. The oversized fish must be well fed to be able to coexist like this, which was…concerning for the hero, to say the least.

Their vision blurred as they watched a pointed fin breach the surface.

They realized belatedly that they were about to pass out.

“And they’re just fine with each other?”

“Oh, you see, that’s where my new invention comes in-“

The sound of Villain’s voice faded out as Hero’s consciousness slipped away.

…

They awoke to the sight of teeth flashing in front of them. They tried to scramble back before their brain could process the several-feet thick wall between them and the apex predator.

“You’ve been quite a rude guest.”

Hero turned to the source of the voice, finding Villain standing over them. The rope that had previously entrapped just one ankle now looped both feet together, as well as connecting both their wrists.

“I’m…sorry?” Hero spoke carefully.

That seemed like a reasonable answer, given their ultimate goal of not ending up as chum.

“You fainted before I could finish my monologue,” Villain pouted, crossing their arms and looking down at the Hero sitting against the wall of the tank.

“That’s…uh, my bad,” Hero answered, preoccupied with wondering when the sharks’ last meal was.

“Please, continue.”

Villain crouched down, looking intently into the Hero’s eyes as they started to explain.

“First, you have to understand the aggression patterns of bull sharks vs those of great whites and tigers…”

And that’s how Hero learned way more about Selachimorpha than they ever wished to know.

A Gambit

[CW: threats, blood, knife violence, captivity]

(Hero POV)

There was a knife at my throat, which was pretty expected honestly.

I mean, I didn’t exactly expect to sneak into public enemy number one’s private base and be greeted with warm milk and cookies. Sure, being held at knifepoint wasn’t ideal, but stakes were high enough that I was running out of options.

This was a risk I was willing to take.

I slowly raised my open hands. Surrender: the logical course of action when one is caught effectively off guard deep in unfamiliar territory.

“Don’t move and I might consider letting you live another second,” was whispered harshly in my ear, and I heeded the command disguised as a suggestion. The slow and controlled rise and fall of my chest was the only movement I allowed my body to make as my captor grabbed a hold of one lifted hand and pulled it behind my back, my arm folding painfully to provide the physical leverage the knife against my neck could not. Undoubtedly uncomfortable, but I tried not to worry about anything more than my main objective: staying alive.

“Grab your weapon slowly. Drop it. Kick it out of reach,” he ordered concisely.

I obediently unclipped the large knife sheathed on my belt, then dropped it to the floor and kicked it away.

Apparently, the distance the knife skittered was not satisfactory because I was subsequently yanked backwards a few more feet until we stopped and my shoulders were once again flush with the collarbones of the chest behind me.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t slit your throat right now. Tell me what you’re doing here,” I was questioned, and thus the careful game begun.

It was much too early to show all my cards, but I had to say something. While it was a decently good sign that I wasn’t killed the second I was discovered, I certainly wasn’t going to push my luck by not providing an answer.

“I need something. You have it,” I answered simply, forcing the words out as strongly as I could and hoping to buy myself a ticket to a second location with a less immediate threat of death.

The hallway in which we currently stood seemed to be closing in on its self, the shadows threatening to swallow me the second the knife would pierce my skin and end my life. I needed to get out of here.

I needed to survive.

I didn’t lie per se, but I was certainly aiming for a misleading omission with my statements. I felt like a shady salesman pitching a hook, except this salesman’s life depending on this customer’s purchase.

“Yeah? And what might that be?” The voice sounded deceptively interested, but it came from dangerously close to my ear.

And that was my cue to shut up.

“Ok. We can do it this way.”

My knees were kicked out from behind, and I went slamming into the floor. My tongue caught between my teeth on the way down, and metallic blood soon found its way across my taste buds. Hands ran across my clothes and into my pockets, methodically stripping me of my tools and supplies. My boots were removed and their knives tossed across the room. Pressure on my shoulder kept me down, but on a positive note, there was no longer a blade biting against my skin.

I focused on the iron taste and taking steady and clear breaths as the man above me worked. A renewed grip locked both arms behind my back and I was hauled onto my feet again. An aggressive push had me starting to walk, my sock-clad feet padding against and periodically tripping on the concrete toward a door settled into the far wall.

I was harshly marched down two more halls and through a smaller room, becoming more and more disconcerted that my captor wasn’t bothering to hide the layout of the base as we walked.

We eventually reached a room that was clearly equipped to handle prisoners. It was stocked with tools and restraints, which my captor made quick work of using to secure me. The room accomplished the intimidating vibe of a concrete box with bright-in-one-spot-but-dark-in-all-others fluorescent lighting, complete with chains along the wall and a metal chair bolted to the floor in the center.

Once I was settled into the aforementioned chair, I realized it faced away from the only door in the room, leaving a view of only a blood spattered wall.

This was certainly a second location. Mission accomplished, sort of.

I still did not speak, what was there to say, really? Begging for my freedom would be pointless, and I refused to show unnecessary weakness of any kind. I was here for a reason after all, I could only hope prayer and patience would be enough to get me through this ordeal.

My captor paced at my back, his footfalls loud as he allowed his shoes to scuff roughly on the concrete floor. They came to a stop.

“Let’s get to know each other, shall we?” He stepped in front of me and smiled wide, and suddenly I was considering the merits of spontaneously dropping dead right there in that chair.

“You see, I don’t take this kind of thing lightly,” he started, “How did you know to come here? Were you planning to steal what you needed, or is this some kind of delusional attempt at a business deal?” He continued, but my lips remained sealed, not that he could tell.

He seemed to realize this too, because he quickly ripped off every piece of clothing that covered my face, leaving it bare to be read and identified.

“Hero, how cute.”

Now he was interested.

His eyes traced the scar that ran from the corner of my nose up to my cheekbone. That’s what gave me away, he would know, because he’s the one who gave it to me. Not to suggest that us crossing paths was a regular occurrence, quite the opposite in fact. I had pledged to avoid the man after our unfortunate encounter, and it helped that I wasn’t much of a front-line fighter to begin with. I preferred sidelines and shadows, subtle work. And I rarely interfered in the big leagues. I was content to not make any powerful enemies, but unfortunately, circumstances change.

“You’re not getting what you came for,” Maybe I am, “so what’s the harm in giving it up?” He asked sweetly, nothing but innocence in his eyes as he stepped closer.

“Don’t think I’ll be asking nicely again,”he followed, and that- that possessive twinkle in his eyes. That was what I was banking on. This was going to work.

He circled me like a shark, slow and deliberate, but never reaching to fill his hands with a tool or a weapon. His relaxed demeanor put me on edge nonetheless. He had nothing to worry about. Capturing me was all business, now this was all play.

Silence continued to be my preferred strategy.

“Still quiet huh? Don’t worry, I’m really good at the quiet game,” he whispered the last part from behind me eerily, before walking away and shutting the door with a loud metal slam and leaving me alone. Maybe this wasn’t my best idea, but it was a little late for second thoughts.

By the time he returned, I had already begun to preemptively associate the sound of the door and heavy footsteps with the sound of my doom. He appeared in front of me much too soon, empty handed with a justifiable air of confidence.

My heart started to race when Villain strutted over to a roll of plastic propped against the wall to my left. Slowly, he kicked it over to the center of the room where I sat in the chair, and then knelt to the ground to roll it out around me. He produced a knife I didn’t know he had been carrying, different from the one that had been held at my throat, previously concealed somewhere in the black cargo pants that covered over the ankle of his black combat boots. He sliced the plastic laid around me into a square perimeter about six feet on each side.

My mind screamed that I needed to change tactics, admit something or be admitted to an early grave. But revealing that I intended to use the most powerful man in the game was not going to work in my favor. What choice did I really have though, be a toy or admit to toying?

Villain stood now. He gave me little more than a glance before starting to walk past me on my left side, presumably towards the door again or maybe other equipment. Unfortunately that guess did not take into account his lighting-like speed.

He turned, and before I knew it a knife was stabbed straight through my hand. I blinked in disbelief at the metal jutting an inch and a half out the palm of my hand, blood starting to well up around it and drip down to the tip of the blade before falling to hit the plastic.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t better. Maybe this was as certain a death as I was already guaranteed.

Too late to turn back now.

The pain took about a full three seconds to register. I was unprepared for the strike, quick as a viper sinking its teeth into its prey. I choked on my shock, mouth opening but no sound coming out.

Millan seized the opportunity, shoving a ball of fabric into my gaping mouth with forceful fingers.

“You don’t wanna talk? Don’t talk. I prefer it this way anyway,” he spoke, and my mistake became crystal clear.

Salvage. Games. He wants to play games.

His hand returned to the knife he had left skewered through my hand. His fingers wrapped around the hilt and my thoughts ran a thousand miles per minute, searching for something, anything, I could use as an opening move.

I was invited to the table, now I just had to figure out how to play.

The blade slipped easily back out of my flesh. It had missed bone, angled perfectly in the direction of my fingers.

I had to act now, before that blade found a new home in which to bury itself, presumably in a much more damaging location.

I coughed and spit to try and loosen the scrap in my mouth as I attempted to push it out with my tongue. I was making progress, but a hand was heading for my face again to try and re-secure the gag. Running out of time, I forced precious few syllables past the fabric that crudely hindered my speech.

“Ah-so-shee-a-shun.”

The hand reached its destination, but surprisingly opted to remove the obstacle from my mouth and toss it in a soggy heap to the floor.

“What was that?”

“The Association. I know something.”

I made a sour face in an attempt to resalivate my mouth and rid it of the awful cottony feel and taste.

“I have something on The Hero Association.”

“Hero, you do not waste a breath. I knew there was something I liked about you.” That creepy smiled returned, coupled with the glint in the eyes as the knife was wiped off on the knee of his pants. He crouched to a squat in front of me.

“I don’t suppose you’re in a particularly generous and sharing mood?” He cocked his head, studying my face as if seeing it for the first time.

“In your dreams. Sharing is caring, and I could not give less of a fuck about you.” I watched his face as he reacted to my words and knew by the way he lit up that I had picked the right path.

Never doubted it for a second.

“So why bring it up?”

“Figured it might save me a stab wound or two.”

“Or three or four,” he conceded, and I allowed a small smile to stretch my lips.

“Probably five.” He smiled back. “At least.”

The air in the room was lighter, and this exchange was seeming more and more like a tentative opportunity and less and less like certain doom. Blood still dripped from my hand, but I didn’t spare it another glance. I relaxed in my binds, and prepared for my next move.

Hey, ok? You're probably not ok if you got bad news but are you getting by? Do you want to vent or want us to ask about it? Sometimes that helps I think

One step at a time, one day at a time, ok?

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

This is so sweet, thank you.

I am indeed getting by.

I usually try not to share too many personal details online, but since I’m struggling a bit with this, I figure yelling into the void (tumblr lol) might help.

Below is some discussion of medical issues (absolutely no obligation for anyone to continue reading, especially if the topic makes you uncomfortable. Please don’t forget to take care of yourselves too <3)

Yesterday, I visited a new specialist who did some testing due to a recent autoimmune diagnosis of mine. I have been dismissed a lot in the past, so I usually go in expecting test results to be normal. This time, I was wrong.

Apparently, I have moderate pulmonary obstruction, that I’ve just…never noticed?? I guess between disabling POTS and the tendency to convince myself symptoms are all in my head, shortness of breath must not have concerned me.

(Yeah, that’s about as concerning as it sounds)

So, yay, more testing.

Best case scenario, I have asthma (never thought I’d be hoping to have asthma lol). Worst case scenario, there is disease activity in my lungs, courtesy of my wonderful immune system. There is also a possibility of vocal cord dysfunction, but I don’t know much about that.

I already live with a plethora of health issues, but this one just caught me off guard. It hits harder when you’re not expecting it, and quite frankly it’s a little scary.

Whatever I find out, though, I will continue to get by. Not my first rodeo, and definitely not my last.

Either way, at least I always have Hero and Villain to project onto if I get overwhelmed LMAO.

I think this helped, thank you anon for checking in on me.

Bad News

Villain knew Hero could see them through the wall, so when they grabbed the trash can from the street and threw it in their direction, they expected the hero to duck. When they peeked around the corner, they looked up just in time to see the metal container miss the hero by a concerningly-small margin. Hero just stood still, like they hadn’t even noticed how close they had just come to decapitation by dumpster.

Villain was dumbfounded by the hero’s careless behavior right in the middle of a fight.

“I could’ve seriously taken your head off!” Villain yelled, but their anger subsided when they saw the look on their enemies face.

Eyebrows pinched, mouth downturned, and eyes distant.

Distress, plain and simple was written all over their features.

Their suspicions were confirmed when they were able to successfully rush and grab hold of the hero, crossing their arms across their chest and preventing their escape. The hero squirmed, but they could do nothing caged tightly in the villain’s arms.

“What’s on your mind?” The villain inquired to their new, confusingly-distracted hostage.

“It’s nothing,” Hero deflected.

“It’s not,” Villain challenged, loosening their grip so that it wasn’t so harsh. When the hero flinched, Villain shifted to a gentler tone.

“It doesn’t take x-ray vision to see your heart isn’t in this right now.”

Reluctantly, Hero admitted, “I got some news, okay?”

“What kind of news?”

“Not good.”

The hero with enhanced vision turned their head and huffed.

Carefully, Villain asked, “How bad?”

“Not sure yet,” Hero sighed, going quiet for a moment before snapping, “Its always one thing after another. It never fucking stops, it’s just shit on top of an already heaping pile of shit-“

They cut off with a choke. When Villain looked down, they saw tears welled in their eyes.

“I just don’t know how to deal with it all. It’s just…too much.”

Hero sagged, and Villain’s restraining hold turned into something more reminiscent of a hug.

“Hey, I may seem like the strong one here, but if we measure in anything other than bone-crushing-abilities I think you’d have me beat.”

A moment passed in silence. Around them, the city buzzed. Cars passing, drivers honking, lights changing, life continuing. To Hero, the world shrunk. It was only the gentle breeze of their own breath passing through their lips, the rise and fall of their chest beneath the Villain’s arms.

“I don’t want to be strong,” they finally whispered.

“I know,” Villain hushed, “I’m sorry you have to be.”

Hero laughed weakly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Since when does my nemesis apologize?”

Villain allowed the abrupt shift, responding easily, “Since you started getting all sad I guess.”

Hero chuckled lightly in their arms, then sniffed.

“It’s okay to take a break, you know.”

Hero used their freshly released arm to wipe their sleeve across their nose.

“Nah, I’m right where I want to be. Plus, who else is gonna beat your ass if I’m gone?”

“Sad and delusional I’m afraid,” the super-strong criminal replied.

Villain stepped back, and the hero turned to face them.

“Thanks,” Hero offered awkwardly. They shifted on their feet, unsure of where to go from here.

Villain simply nodded, walking backwards across the concrete until the hero broke eye contact.

“Don’t mention it,” they called as they turned and left. The hero didn’t stop them as they cleared the crosswalk and disappeared.

HOT TO GO

It was easy enough for Villain to stalk Hero into the club. The lights, loud music, and number of people meant the villain could get close. Close enough, apparently, that Hero invited them to dance.

A new song had just started, and the people on the floor had spaced out as best they could, the people on the outskirts squishing together to make room. The shift had left about an arms length to the side between everyone on the dance floor.

“You look a little lost, honey,” spoke a sweet voice from behind them.

It was only then that Villain realized how stiff they must have been, standing alone while everyone around them was partaking in a dance they didn’t know.

“Want me to show you?”

Villain nodded, not wanting to risk their voice being recognized, even over the damagingly loud song. They certainly weren’t going to pass as a party-goer if they refused.

Hero stepped forward, taking Villain’s hands in their own. They were pressed front to back, and Villain could feel every steady breath through the hero’s chest.

When the next chorus hit, they raised both hands above their heads, forming two parallel lines. Next, they pulled down gently, bending both Villain’s arms slightly, rounding out the lines. Just as suddenly, their arms were pulled out to their sides, as wide as Hero’s wingspan would go. Fingers intertwined, their arms bounced once.

“~H-O-T-T~”

Villain stared straight ahead, scared to do anything but leave their arms limp in Hero’s sure hands.

Their hands were lifted once again, going round, then pulling one down and breaking the symmetry before going round again.

“~O-G-O~”

One hand was dropped as Hero spun them around before renewing their grip. Looking directly into their eyes, Hero led their hands to point in front of them, one by one.

“~You can take me~”

Bright neon lights flashed across the Hero’s face, and Villain hoped it was enough to obscure their features. In some strange mix of the YMCA dance and the macarena, Hero used their hands to cross Villain’s arms over their chest before slowly dragging them down. The descent was agonizing, especially when Hero’s knuckles brushed Villain’s hips and their breath caught.

“~Hot to go~”

Villain was twirled again and, mesmerized by the movement, they didn’t even realize why Hero had pulled both hands back instead of up. Hero’s chin laid to rest on Villain’s shoulder, breath hot on their ear when they muttered, “I might just take you ‘hot to go’.”

By the time cool metal clamped over their wrists, it was far too late for the villain to struggle.

“If only you could dance.”

They pulled away sharply, hauling Villain through the crowd and towards the exit.

“Maybe, you can practice in prison.”

Hero and Villain Go Tubing

They got an early start, arriving at the water mid-morning bright-eyed and eager.

Well, at least one of them was.

“Remind me again why you made this a stipulation of our neutrality deal,” Hero groaned.

They stood upon a rock overlooking a semi-shallow green river with their ecstatic nemesis by their side.

A toothy grin spread across the villain’s face in response.

“It’ll be fun!”

For Hero, that was yet to be determined.

The hero’s swim trucks were adorned with cartoon flamingos. When questioned, Hero had asserted that they were a gift, and they didn’t go swimming often enough to own a second pair. Villain was dressed in more ‘tasteful’ swimwear, a dark blue rash guard and green shorts.

Hero sighed, “You brought the tubes, right?”

“They come with the tickets, we just give them back when we get out,” Villain explained.

“Tickets?” Hero questioned, “We’re paying for this?”

“Of course not!” Villain assured, then corrected, “You’re paying for this.”

Obviously, Hero had not bothered to read the fine print on the contract they signed.

They begrudgingly made their way to the ticket building across the street, mumbling something about ‘touristicification’ and good-old-fashion private waterways. Hero returned with a tube on each arm. One a cool blue, the other a neon pink.

Villain reached for the blue, but was swatted away by Hero not-so-gently flinging the pink tube at him.

Villain scowled, but inwardly he may have smiled.

Hero didn’t need to know that, though.

They took a step towards the water access before Hero’s voice interrupted them.

“We’re not leaving until you put on sunscreen.”

“I didn’t bring any-

“I did!”

Villain was interrupted by the taste of banana boat entering his open mouth as Hero sprayed him down with SPF.

Villain spit, gagging from the bitter aerosol assault.

Thouroghly protected from the sun, courtesy of the now-smiling Hero, Villain and Hero began their trek towards the put-in point. Halfway there, Villain stopped, searching for something he didn’t seem to find in Hero’s hands.

“Where’s the stick?” He asked, and Hero rolled their eyes.

“I was not paying five dollars for a stick. We can scavenge for one if it’s that important.”

Villain begrudgingly continued on. They made their way down to the water, wading out across the rocky river bed to an acceptable distance before falling gracefully boarding the tubes.

Just like that, they were off.

Their inter-tubes had been linked together by a nylon strap, so they floated in tandem. At first it was leisurely, feet hanging in the water and heads tilted back to gaze up at the tree canopy. That was, until, a sudden jerk had them stuck in place.

Their first obstacle.

A rock.

“You’re stuck!” Hero yelped, looking over at Villain, affronted at him for ruining the peaceful moment.

“No you’re stuck!”

Hero scoffed. They both looked around into the water, trying to locate the source of their sudden loss of momentum. Hero rocked to no avail, legitimizing their claim that this debacle was not their fault. Villain refused to move, so the hero grabbed the connecting strap.

Hero yanked hard, and the tubes spun free of the rock and caught the current again.

“I told you we needed sticks.”

“You didn’t even help!”

Hero leaned back, staring at the clear sky once again. Until Villain saw fit to once again ruin the moment.

“I think this journey is deserving of a soundtrack,” he spoke.

They pulled out a speaker from who-knows-where. In true villainous fashion, they pressed play at the highest volume, subjecting the entire river to their playlist.

“~I know, you wanted me to stay~”

“What is this?” Hero asked.

Villain gasped.

“You’ve never heard Pink Pony Club?!”

“Never heard what now?”

The villain didn’t answer, letting the singer answer for herself.

“~I’m gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club~”

“Is that the kind of club I think it is?! This is not appropriate-“

“If you want to hear not appropriate…” the villain cursed, and the Hero’s jaw dropped open, but he wasn’t looking at them.

“Villain!”

Villain snapped his mouth shut as he caught Hero’s gaze and saw the child floating by. He blushed at the glare shot to him by the kid’s guardian, who paddled them both by as quickly as possible.

“I see why you needed someone obligated to come with you. Clearly no one would do this willingly,” Hero stated, much to the chagrin of their tethered partner.

“Oh come on, its not that bad,”

“It’s not, you are.”

Ice cold water cascaded in drops over the Hero. They froze, then turned slowly to face the grinning villain.

He just splashed them. Like a toddler.

Taking the high road, they decided not to strike back, lest they be reduced to the low, low level of their criminal companion.

When Villain failed to get the reaction he wanted, he did it again, this time drenching the entirety of Hero’s lap.

Hero’s mouth gaped.

“Ugh, could it get more hot out?” Villain complained.

“Need I remind you this was your idea?”

“I’m melting, Hero.”

Hero saw the opportunity and took it. They wedged their feet under his tube and lifted up, flipping the inflatable with Villain still inside it. They never saw it coming, and thus were successfully dumped into the pocket of deeper water.

When Villain surfaced, they cut Hero a deadly glare.

“That wasn’t very heroic of you,” they said, pushing back their now-soaked hair.

Hero shrugged.

“You said you were hot. I just saved you from a heat stroke.”

Unfortunately for Hero, some retaliation was in order.

Another large(and several small) splashes later, and they were both overboard.

Both looking like seals trying to scale an iceberg, they eventually managed to climb back into their floatation devices.

All was calm, for all of five seconds.

A crescendo of a rushing sound alerted the pair that they were approaching a rapid.

Ahead, an outcropping of rocks bifurcated their path. On either side, a small cascade prevented smooth travel forward. Hero gestured to the widest side, and his companion nodded.

“I’m going down first,” Villain asserted, aggressively paddling one handed towards the right side of the river.

Hero startled as the angle of the tubes shifted as they were pulled towards the miniature waterfall.

“I don’t wanna go backwards!” They screeched.

In a panic, Hero unbuckled the tether between them.

No longer connected, Hero’s tube passed Villain’s by, following their chosen path smoothly.

Hero looked back to find Villain farther behind them than they should have been.

Unmoving.

They were stuck.

“Wiggle!” Hero called.

The villain managed a vague side to side movement.

“That’s not wiggling!” Hero yelled, exasperated. They were quickly approaching a bend, and they had to crane their neck back to catch sight of the villain.

“This IS wiggling!” They defended.

“THEN WIGGLE HARDER!”

Soon the Hero was out of sight, and Villain had to make the ego-crushing decision to leave his tube to try and displace it off the rock.

Hero only knew he had fallen flat on his face instead when the neon pink tube floated by, its occupant conspicuously absent.

A ridiculously long time later:

The two enemies crawled out of the river, collapsing side by side onto the bank.

One package of bandaids and several towels later, they spoke,

“We should do this again sometime.”

“Never.”

Small Mercies

(Context: Hero is restrained in a previous event and abandoned, Villain comes back to find them post-event)

[Warnings: blood, graphic fatal injury (of unnamed characters), helplessness/desperation]

The building was far quieter than it had been a few hours prior. The villain walked into the decimated room, scanning for the hero that they had come to collect. The floor was covered in debris, tables turned over and chairs askew with broken legs. They turned towards the center of the room, where they had gotten Hero cuffed to a vertical bar that used to hold a booth in place. Villain was moderately surprised to find they were still there, though not for lack of trying, if the ring of bruises adorning their wrist like a bracelet was any indication.

They were unmoving, head resting on the beam and cuffed hand slung slightly in the air.

Impressively, they appeared to be sleeping.

That just wouldn’t do.

Villain kicked a piece of debris and they startled, eyes shooting open and locking on the criminal. For a second, they attempted to scrabble back before a glance at the cuff hooked into a rivet hole had them going still again.

Villain waited until it appeared they had some semblance of their bearings in the waking world before they continued to approach. Hero’s eyes never left theirs, tracking their movements like a cornered animal.

Villain stopped cautiously, completely out of reach, but the hero made no move to do anything but glare.

Part of the villain had expected them to start throwing daggers the second they made themselves known. It was their specialty, after all. A quick glance to their belt revealed the answer as to why they hadn’t.

Every loop and sheathe was empty. All their blades were gone.

As if sensing the impending question in the Villain’s gaze, the hero flicked their eyes behind them and to the right. When Villain’s gaze followed, they saw several bodies strewn on the floor, each impaled by a knife or two.

There also appeared to be a rather fresh puddle of blood in front of the restrained Hero. Following the smear of it around the beam, another body laid, this one clawed and disheveled. Sticking out of its windpipe was none other than a fountain pen.

Clearly, Villain had not been the first to come back for Hero.

Upon closer inspection, the hero looked absolutely exhausted. Crusted blood covered their free hand and a small amount was sprinkled on their face and smeared—like they had tried to wipe it away. Their eyes were wary, but in a way that suggested they could do nothing to act on their caution.

Villain knelt, ignoring the biohazard on the floor and taking the metal cuff in his hand. The lock was scratched and the links were scored but they were still functional—again, obviously not for lack of trying.

“Is this thing made of titanium or something?” Hero joked weakly.

Villain shot a quick look to the hero, their posture still completely defensive, knees drawn up to their chest. They pulled out a key, inserting it into the side of the cuffs that was attached to the beam. A twist and a click later and Hero was no longer tethered to the rebar.

They didn’t pull their hand back immediately as Villain might have expected, instead leaving it limp, held up only by the grip Villain maintained on the metal. Villain reached for their other hand, pulling it from their knee and locking the open side of the cuff over Hero’s previously free wrist.

They let them, but the hatred in their gaze intensified greatly as the metal cinched closed.

Unbothered, Villain produced the key again, and Hero eyed them suspiciously as they slid it into the mechanism clamped over their mottled wrist. After freeing the injured hand, Villain rose to their feet, pulling lightly at the side of the cuff they still held.

Hero struggled to their feet, bracing themselves on the beam for a minute before allowing themselves to be led away by the wrist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was…not what they had expected.

They had had plenty of time to imagine what would happen when—if the villain came back. Terrible thoughts interrupted only by the terrible reality of another group closing in.

When they realized they had thrown their final blade, they knew that it was over. They may have been able to stop one person with their bare hands and some pocket junk, but Villain was different.

The adrenaline that had allowed them to lodge a writing utensil into that trachea was long gone. In its wake, it left total and utter exhaustion.

For better or for worse, Villain seemed to know that.

Hero was taken from the building, confused by the horrors that hadn’t been realized, and dreading the terrors that might yet await.

Defiance

“Surrender yourself,” his voice boomed through rapidly-emptying event courtyard, courtesy of the poor-sound tech being held hostage.

“Or I will destroy this city.”

Hero faced the final remaining civilian, gesturing towards Villain with his thumb.

“This guy can’t be serious.”

The hostage stared blankly, vaguely shaking next to the sound equipment.

“I am most definitely being serious,” the villain hissed, “Now, come with me.”

It was not a request. The command was like ice on his tongue, meant to freeze any thoughts of defiance.

Unluckily for him, Hero liked the cold.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Hero responded, following it up by spinning and landing a solid right hook with record-breaking speed.

Wrong move.

Villain saw it coming, allowing the hero’s fist to collide with his face as an opportunity to grab his arm and twist, wrenching it behind his back.

The civilian intelligently took their cue to run.

“If you don’t start listening to me, this is going to get ugly-”

Hero rammed their elbow back into the villain and ducked, slipping their arm out the hold and sweeping at Villain’s legs.

Unfortunately, Villain was built like a tree and did not wobble, leaving Hero to scurry away a few feet before rising.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Hero stayed back, measuring his next move carefully.

“You know what I-”

Villain was forced to take a step back as Hero rushed forward and landed a series of successful gut punches.

“I couldn’t hear over the loudness of your ego.”

Villain stuttered as he tried to discard his affrontedness to parry the attacks. As strong and strategic as he was, he was still no match for the hero’s next combination.

The heel of his palm struck the villain’s nose in a flash while his left fist flew and found its target behind the ear. Villain now sported a bloody nose and a dazed look on his face, forgotten fists falling limply to his sides.

A final kick and he was down, lying flat on his back on the concrete. He immediately grabbed his head, groaning and rolling over pathetically.

Hero laughed, victorious.

“Now who’s surrendering?”

No thoughts, only Hero teaching Villain the HOT TO GO dance

Achoo!

Hero was absolutely determined to enter the base unnoticed. They slunk through the shadows like a cat, graceful and assured. Every breath was carefully measured, every footfall quiet and even.

They slipped past the first door, then down a corridor. They followed it to the right, then paused to study the light filtering through the door frame at the end of the hall.

It sounded as if the TV was on, possibly some local news station. The light shifted colors as the broadcast presumably changed frames.

Perfect, the villain would be distracted.

Hero crept to a room on the right, pushing open the door slowly after spraying the hinges with a little lubricant to prevent them from squeaking.

Inside the room, as their eyes adjusted to the dark, Hero could see filing cabinets appear on the far wall.

Bingo.

They crept across the floor, sliding upon the top drawer of the first cabinet after picking the lock with a small kit they shoved back into their pocket.

They flipped through file after file, reaching, stacking, and scanning as fast as they dared.

Finally, they got to the alphabet range they believed the information they needed would be filed under. This cabinet looked particularly untouched, covered in a thick layer of dust that Hero crinkled their nose at.

Villain really should invest in a swiffer.

Lo and behold, the file they needed was inside, but unfortunately buried at the back. They finagled the paper folder out then clutched it tightly to their chest. Ready to leave, they applauded their own silence as the last drawer clicked shut.

Everything was going according to plan.

That was, until, they sneezed.

“Bless you.”

“Ah!”

Hero jumped, knocking over a stack of boxes and sending more particles into the air as a result. They whirled on the villain, who stood in the door frame with their arms crossed. They opened their mouth-and sneezed a second time.

And then a third.

“Bless you, bless you,” Villain chuckled.

Hero sniffed loudly then pointed an accusatory finger at the villain.

“You scared me!”

“I scared you. Which one of us showed up in the other’s base with no warning?” They asked, looking down the bridge of their nose at the hero.

Hero huffed, “I didn’t know I needed an invitation to infiltrate my enemy’s lair.”

“You don’t, not when you do it secretly.”

“I was being sneaky!” Hero defended.

“Right,” Villain shook their head, “And I assume that sneeze was strategic?”

“It’s not my fault you don’t clean!”

“Well,” the villain started, “since I caught you, I’m going to need you to put that file back.”

Hero hung their head in disappointment, but turned to place the Manila folder back anyway.

“What now?” They asked.

“Now, we get you a tissue, I suppose.”

Spy?

(Inspired by the song “Spy?” by WHOKILLEDXIX)

Hero stood in a rough circle surrounded by the group of villains. Their voices were overlapping, all arguing over the fresh mission failure.

“It was Lookout’s job to make sure we weren’t followed,” one voice—Blueprint—argued.

“We weren’t! I’m positive,” Lookout defended.

“It was probably the panic alert from the front desk,” Hero accused, looking pointedly at Guardsman.

“I got that guard before he even got close to that button, there’s no way that’s how the cops knew we were there.”

Pulling out a phone, one accomplice walked to the edge of the room, pressing the device to his ear.

Hero engaged passionately with the quarreling criminals, trying desperately to salvage their mission and keep their cover intact. Hero was deep undercover as a security expert in a large heist led by Villain, and the takedown they had orchestrated had not quite gone according to plan. The hero did their best to stoke the flames of anger and disappointment between the crew. The more they were at each other’s throats, the less they were thinking rationally about what really went wrong.

“If everyone had just stuck to the plan-“

“It was YOU who-“

“Ok, let’s be logical about this-“

“And then you didn’t-“

“It’s a miracle we all got away-“

The man on the phone returned to the group, face made of stone. He raised a hand, and the bickering quieted.

“My inside guy says they were there within a minute of us going in.”

“So the cops were tipped,” Locksmith concluded.

“Alright, so who knew?” Lookout asked from the left.

“The driver,” Blueprint chimed in on Hero’s right.

“He didn’t know the location, and I only hired him today. We picked up the vehicles 30 minutes before and it never left my sight,” explained Mover, the one who had been delegated to arrange transportation.

“No one else was told, it was all in-house.”

Silence dawned in the room as realization hit the criminals one by one.

“The location was need-to-know. Villain didn’t even tell half of us,” Locksmith pointed out.

“Actually, I only told one of you,” he corrected nonchalantly.

Shit.

“So that means-“

“My, my,” He turned slowly with the words, locking eyes with Hero, “I think we have a spy.”

They were made.

Two seconds and they were out the door, heart and feet pounding as fast as they could. Hero burst into the stairwell and was faced with a split second decision: up? Or down?

The backup spot at which they had met up after the disaster was located in the heart of the city, and Hero hoped the mid-day masses would be enough to help them get away. First though, they had to make it out of this building.

Temporarily closed for some upper level renovations, the office was five stories high and packed closely with the surrounding businesses.

Passing the large painted number three in a flash, Hero headed for the top.

They didn’t risk a glance back, but they heard several people slam open the door behind them. A chorus of footsteps echoed through the stairwell. Hero climbed, breathing heavily and mind racing to trace an escape route. A painted number five marked the top of the stairwell and Hero turned away from the roof access. If they remembered correctly from their recon, the East side of the building should back right up to an apartment complex with an outdoor fire escape.

They threw the door open and were met with a bare-bones floor. The entire level was sectioned by plastic sheeting, making it difficult to locate the windows and any potential dangers. Hero’s feet danced over stray boards and around forgotten construction equipment. Shouts alerted them that their pursuers were not far behind, but their figure was already blurred behind several layers of sheeting.

Most of the yelling was unintelligible, but one voice rose about the rest.

“I hope you’re ready to learn what happens to little rats!”

Hero made the mistake of turning towards the voices, taking their eyes off the floor and the bucket that they were about to crash into. They tumbled to the floor with a yelp, taking a clear sheet of plastic with them. They flailed, scrambling to their feet and shaking their limbs frantically to unravel themselves. They caught a glimpse of a set of boots several feet away before they pushed off the floor and continued heading for the wall.

Pushing past a final divider, they saw unfiltered light spilling in through a missing piece of wall. They threw themselves through the gap, standing on the narrow window frame still intact on the exterior side of the building.

Just as they had remembered, a metal staircase laid just a few feet ahead.

They didn’t mean to hesitate, but stopping their momentum had apparently allowed a singular assailant enough time to catch up. A hand gripped the back of Hero’s shirt, preventing them from making the leap.

Damn they were fast.

Hero threw back an elbow, connecting with a set of ribs. The grip on their shirt loosened and they turned, their fist connecting to a jaw and then a cheekbone.

Speedy’s head snapped to the side and Hero was released. They pushed off the side of the building before they could fall, catching the railing with both hands and hauling themselves up and over it.

They landed on the fire escape with a clang. Hoping to throw off the group closing in, Hero scaled a level before ducking in a conveniently-open window into an apartment. Hero used the time it took them to cross the kitchen area towards the door to make an unwitting accomplice of the person that startled on the couch.

“Do the inside stairs have roof access?” They asked breathlessly.

The stunned resident simply nodded their head.

Hero barely waited for the response, already halfway across the hall by the time the person shouted after them.

They turned a corner and caught the shine of an elevator door sliding closed a few feet away.

“Hold it!” They called, and a man pushing a large trash can put a hand in the doorway, leaving Hero enough time to slip in just before it closed.

“In a hurry, today, aren’t we?”

Hero chuckled breathlessly.

“You have no idea.”

The man gestured towards the buttons on his side of the small elevator.

“Floor?”

“The lobby, please.”

Hero clasped their arms awkwardly in front of them, trying not to breathe too loudly as they watched the numbers tick down slowly on the electronic screen. When they finally reached the bottom, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to a fairly-active lobby. The door to the staircase was still closed, and Hero breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“After you,” the service worker waved, and Hero voiced their thanks before crossing the carpeted floor and passing through the revolving door.

Out of immediate danger, they slowed to an even pace, sliding off their beanie and slipping off their jacket to tie around their waist. They tossed the hat as soon as they could without getting ticketed for littering and entered the second shop they saw after turning down a different road.

They needed to get off the street, and fast. By now, word would be out about their betrayal.

Unfortunately, things had gone so off script that Hero found themselves on the opposite side of the city than their usual safe houses. They couldn’t risk getting near any police stations, and since this wasn’t the typical residential side of town, staying on the street after another hour or so would be incredibly suspicious. Those who worked went home soon, and those who lived here locked their doors.

Weighing those thoughts, Hero’s best option seemed to be to cross the city while they still could.

One change of clothes later, and Hero was back on a crosswalk, moving with a crowd dressed in mostly business-causal attire. Two more rights and they spotted a station, and graciously they had enough cash left to cover the fare for a ride all the way to South side.

The covered bench at which they waited was warm, but they couldn’t get comfortable. Their head was whipping in every direction, trying to identify if they were being followed. Paranoia creeped in and their neck muscles began to protest the strain of repeated movements. By the time they could board the Greyhound, the other citizens were eyeing Hero wearily.

Unconcerned with how erratic they appeared, Hero hopped on the bus, settling into a window seat in the middle. They relaxed as it started to move, shifting their gaze to the window.

Buildings upon buildings passed by, all slowly emptying as the minutes crept closer to the end of the business day. Idle chatter filled the bus.

The more blocks that passed, the more optimistic Hero became.

More commuters entered on the next stop. Exhausted, Hero paid no mind to the blue collar workers filling up the seats around them.

Some people must have pushed past the ones trying to exit the bus, because an older man in front of Hero made a comment about everybody being in a rush nowadays. Several people mumbled their agreement as someone settled into the seat beside Hero, holding a newspaper that crinkled as they sat.

“Trying to outrun the stressors of life, I suppose,” a woman replied from across the aisle.

Something tapped Hero’s shoe, and they leaned down to grab a water bottle that had rolled from the seat in front of them.

“You know what my dad always said about that?” The man beside Hero asked, setting down his newspaper.

Hero raised their arm to tap on the shoulder of the bottle’s probable owner.

Behind them, another person shifted, then answered lightly, “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

If Hero was anyone else, they would not have recognized the danger in Villain’s tone.

Before they could react, cold metal pressed to the side of their neck. In the reflection of the window, Hero could make out a hand holding a knife behind them. They flicked their eyes to the side, finally catching the bruising coming up on their seatmate’s cheekbone and jaw. In front, Blueprint turned and grabbed the bottle from their outstretched hand.

They were surrounded.

Part Two: You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid

Overexertion

(Villain POV)

To say I was impressed may have been an understatement.

I didn’t really realize how many people were in the building when I rigged it to collapse. Now, I was watching a steady stream exit from every available opening. Easily hundreds of people flooded the streets, melding into the crowd that was already gathered outside. I knew that Hero would be able to slow the collapse, but I had no idea she would be able to hold it for this long. The plan was to tire her out so I could initiate a battle with a higher chance of capture. At this rate though, there may not be much left of the hero to capture.

More chunks of granite and marble slid off the sides of the building, luckily avoiding the major crowds and leaving stragglers to successfully dodge the falling debris.

The people exiting the courthouse slowed to a trickle, and then to a stop as the remaining structure began to shake and show clear that collapse was imminent.

Finally.

A heavy rumble and a chorus of shouts and screams erupted in front of me as I smiled. The commotion made for a great cover.

The second the dust settled I was scanning the crowd for where Hero had escaped to. I expected to see her ferrying wounded or checking on the children with first responders, maybe administering first aid or helping to reunite families. She was nowhere to be seen though, leaving those jobs to the police, medical professionals, and a few helpful civilians.

I turned back towards the collapsed building. The rubble was all greys and whites and reds, no sign of the conspicuous violet I sought. She wouldn’t have left the scene, not before everyone was taken care of and she was absolutely sure no one else needed to be rescued. But looking at the remains of the county building, I couldn’t imagine there being many survivors left inside.

She couldn’t have died, right?

I located the closest hole in the rubble and dashed in to explore. This wasn’t my first demolition and I was fairly certain there would be minimal shifting for at least a few minutes and what remained of the building was fairly structurally sound, but still, I needed to be quick.

It had been almost five minutes when I finally spotted a metallic purple jacket. For a second I feared that I would find Hero’s body pinned under a pillar or a large part of the ceiling with her chest caved in or something equally mission-ending, but I was relieved to find her lying in a small but completely open space, no debris but a thick layer of dust touching her form. I had been prepared to fight, but there was no need. Hero was definitely unconscious.

I approached quickly but quietly, sticking two fingers on her pulse point to detect a slow but steady heart beat. I immediately recognized her state as exhaustion. After all, there was no way she should have been able to hold up the entire building for as long as she did. Luckily, it seems she had been able to push long enough to protect herself with a small shield when the building did come down, with her still in it.

I had to work fast, before the site was deemed safe for rescue crews to enter and Hero was discovered before I could take her.

I wanted to leave unnoticed, partly due to the heavy police presence outside that I did not feel like dealing with today, so I had dressed rather inconspicuously. Jeans and black t-shirt. Hero, however, was in full dress so I stripped off the recognizable jacket and replaced her hood with a beanie. Her thick black leggings were passable, as long as no one looked too closely at what was sewn into the pockets. I rolled her into a hoodie I had wrapped around my waist, shoving her iconic jacket into my bag then picking her up and retracing my steps out into the crowded streets.

We were both covered in dust, looking inconspicuously like any two victims who had resolved to get themselves to the hospital instead of dealing with an expensive ambulance and backlogged roads. Unfortunately for Hero, the hospital was not our real destination.

Too busy with their eyes glued to the news or their phones to check on family members, nobody noticed me carry Hero back to my base on the other side of town.

She graciously stayed asleep for the walk, and would probably continue that for at least another day or two. All the more convenient for me.

I laid her down on a table in my receiving room, finally resting my sore arms from the trek across the city. As much as I would have loved to fireman carry her out of there, a bridal carry was much less suspicious on the streets of City, especially between a man and a woman.

I was just glad she wasn’t awake to question me about it. Gentleness and chivalry were not exactly on brand for me, and I liked it to stay that way.

I pulled her jacket out of my bag first and rifled through the pockets for anything of any importance. I came across an accordion folded card with a front that was caution-orange and stopped to read the text printed on the front. It read:

Yes I know my limits, I just choose to ignore them.

If found, pls read (or not lmao I’m probably too dead or unconscious to care)

I knew that some people carried emergency cards on their person with important information, but it was always a trade off because you ran the risk of it being found and revealing information in a situation in which you would rather it not. I wondered if Hero would want me to read this in this particular situation or not, had she been conscious. Either way, I entertained myself by unfolding the paper. It did say please, after all.

It continued:

So obviously I did something either super heroic (I hope) or really stupid (probable). Maybe even both.

Anyway if you’re trying to keep me alive, good luck.

It then listed key medical information such as blood type and medications, complete with a large print ‘please skip to here if actively dying’ label.

Villain scanned through information before moving to the back of the comically long card with comically tiny print and reading:

If I’m dead (and you’re taking requests) I would like to be cremated and have my ashes mixed with a tree. (And preferably planted somewhere I won’t be cut down or die within a year lol)

Have a great day :) (or, if you’re a villain: I hope both sides of your pillow are warm every night and you jump every time you hear a toaster go off.)

P.S. don’t feel bad about any of this, I knew what I was doing (unless, once again, you are a villain, in which case go fuck your self, feel bad all you want, dirtbag)

I allowed myself a small chuckle. She wasn’t consciously around to hear it anyway.

A broken com, some cash, and miscellaneous tools were all there was to find in the rest of the clothing I searched.

My next order of business was checking Hero for any injuries, a process which I will admit is a lot easier and less awkward when your subject is conscious. Still, I didn’t need the hero bleeding out or dying from some unseen wound while incapacitated in my care.

Rolling her back out of the hoodie, I crumpled and tucked the fabric under her head and neck to separate them from the hard surface.

A cursory inspection revealed no clear cuts in the fabric of her tank top or visible skin of the front, nor any bloodstains in the lighter sections of her leggings. I lifted and turned over both of Hero’s bare arms, finding nothing of concern anywhere I could see. The same was true for her lower legs and abdomen.

Resolved to simply deal with any other possible hidden wounds if the issue later arose, I retreated deeper into my lair to further prepare for my guest.

An empty cell awaited, and Hero would not stir on the cot for some time.

A Rescue?

Hero was almost out of time.

Flames were licking at their heels as they turned, eyes burning and lungs quickly filling up with smoke as they narrowly avoided falling debris. They doubled over then tried running low, desperately searching for the exit. Silver caught their eye across the room, and they recognized it as the trim on the door they had come through.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Hero collapsed over the entrance threshold. A rescue worker was waiting, and Hero felt relief crash over them like a violent wave.

Only, Hero realized through watering eyes, the worker wasn’t in uniform.

They blinked, suddenly realizing the presence in front of them was yet another threat and not a helpful rescuer.

Villain.

“Oh I’m so dead.”

To their credit, Hero stepped forward anyway, landing a solid punch before they lost their footing and were dragged back against a solid chest.

Having just stumbled out of a burning building, the remainder of their energy was currently being spent coughing up smoke they had inhaled while desperately trying to find their escape. Thus, they could do nothing when their opponent spun around them, their reactions too sluggish and weak. They were held across the chest with their arms pinned to their sides. It wasn’t a great grip, but it didn’t have to be. They slumped in the hold.

“Rip.”

The villain chuckled, their chest lightly rumbling against the hero’s back.

“Don’t go writing your will just yet,” they replied while they shifted their grip to sling the hacking hero up over their shoulder.

“W-wh air,” Hero paused for a much needed breath. “Where are we going?”

They were lightheaded from the coughing fit, or maybe it was the upside down position they found themselves in now.

“Nowhere your pretty little head needs to be worried about.”

Despite themselves, Hero couldn’t help but act as if they believed them, closing their eyes and feeling the adrenaline drain out of them. It wasn’t like they could see anything but their enemy’s back anyway.

They were jostled with every step, adding to the discomfort of their burns and searing lungs.

Utterly exhausted, it took Hero a second to recognize the red and white lights that started flashing on the other side of their eyelids. Suddenly the world was tilting again and air fled their lungs as they were slammed down onto a suspiciously soft surface. Their eyes flew open, and they saw Villain hovering above them. They went to sit up, but a hand landed on their shoulder from behind.

“Relax,” Villain spoke, removing his hands from the blue sheets and retreating from the bed. Hero whipped their head around, trying to identify where they had landed.

They were lying on a stretcher, ambulance at their back. Before they knew it, a clear mask was descending upon their face. They felt the subtle gust of air over their nose and mouth and breathed in the oxygen the paramedic was providing.

In front of them, Villain was walking away, leaving Hero discarded in the hands of emergency personnel.

The hero’s mind spun, but their thoughts felt as if they were still clouded with smoke.

They were…safe?

As the EMTs took them away, they realized with a start that they had been caught at their weakest.

And then Villain let them go.

#124

The hero rolls up on the driveway of a simple house. A giant tree is taking up most of the front garden, and with a squint they can see the cat they’re here to rescue, sitting as high as physically possible amongst the leaves. Someone is standing at the bottom, staring up at it, a large blanket wrapped in their arms.

The hero gets out of their car and slams the door behind them, earning the person’s attention. The hero is rather surprised, for lack of a better word, to find the villain looking back at them.

The villain seems to go through the five stages of grief in the space of a second. Their whole body is tensed, like they’re going to bolt at any second. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The hero turns their eyes up to the cat above them. A giant thing, bless. A ragdoll, if the fluffiness is anything to go by. “Is the cat yours?”

The villain follows their gaze. “I called the fire apartment for that,” they mumble.

“Well, the fire department sent me,” the hero says innocently. “How long has it been up there?”

“She has been there for two hours.”

“And you stood out here for two hours before you thought calling someone was a good idea?”

“Did the fire department send you to mock me?” The villain scowls, the blanket scrunched tight in their fists. “I don’t think I can be bothered dealing with you today.”

“Nah, they just thought I could earn some bonus popularity with the public if I save a cat,” the hero comments idly.

“Well, you’re not earning any popularity here,” the villain snaps, “so you can go ahead and get the people I actually called out here.”

“What would the agency think if I can’t even save a cat?” The hero barks a laugh. “Unfold your blanket. It’s useless like that.”

The villain’s scowl deepens but they do as they’re told, flapping the blanket to unravel it from whatever weird braid they’ve woven it into. The hero studies the tree, carefully testing the sturdiness of the footholds, before carefully puling themself off the ground.

The villain looks up to find the hero halfway up the tree and, perhaps in the world’s rarest show of concern, cries, “what are you doing?”

“Saving your cat,” the hero retorts between short breaths. The cat yowls as they get close, a spit of a hiss thrown at them as a warning. Pets are like their owners, the hero supposes.

“You’re okay, Dusty!” the villain shouts, then a little more incredulously, “she doesn’t like other people. Just so you know.”

The hero can see that from the way Dusty—Dusty, how much does the villain hate her to call her that?—is still hissing and edging out of reach. She can’t go much further but by god, she’s going to try.

The branch under the hero curves dangerously as they pull themself up. Dusty’s claws are very much out, digging into the bark under her feet as the branch sways, another hiss spat at the hero. “I’m trying to help you,” the hero says sharply, as if she can understand them. “God, I’m not doing this for you again.”

The hero edges along the branch, acutely aware of how much it’s bending under their weight. Seemingly too close for comfort, Dusty makes a furious swipe with that hiss that’s probably going to haunt the hero’s nightmares. “[Villain],” they call, “get under her. It’s not exactly stable up here.”

The villain moves into position without complaint, the blanket stretched out in their arms. The hero doesn’t get to check them before Dusty’s making another goddamn swipe. Dogs, the hero thinks, are so much easier.

The hero nudges closer and the cat’s not having it. She skirts back with another hiss, but the branch is too thin behind her. Her back foot misses its mark, and with a yowl she slips off the branch.

The hero and the villain yelp in tandem. The hero’s too far away to catch her. The villain leaps in, blanket brandished like a shield, and Dusty flops into it like a furious sun sucked into a silky black hole.

The hero’s never been so happy to get out of a tree. By the time they’re on solid ground again the villain’s swaddled Dusty in the blanket, her face poking out of the top, clearly very comfortable in the villain’s arms.

She notices the hero approaching before the villain. She turns her gaze to them and, without a care for what just happened, gives them one last hiss.

The villain laughs. “She has her morals in line, at least.”

“She’s just like you.” The hero rolls their eyes in mock offence. “Though she’s too nice to you to be called Dusty.”

“Oh, she’s not Dusty technically,” the villain says matter-of-factly. “It’s short for Feather Duster.”

The hero blinks at them. They’re not convinced that’s any better.

“Because she’s so fluffy she looks like a feather duster,” the villain continues, “and because I need one to clean up after her. She gets fur everywhere.”

The hero finally finds the words to say. “Your cruelty knows no bounds.”

“I know.” The villain grins, nuzzling their nose into the top of Dusty’s head. No, the hero is not calling her Feather Duster. “But she loves me anyway.”

Clearly, from the way she’s purring like a train. “Evil loves company.”

The villain strokes her head for a moment before turning back to the hero with a look they don’t like. “I’ll be honest, [Hero],” they start slowly, “I’m not here next week, and I need a cat sitter to look after—“

“Absolutely not,” the hero cuts in. “This was enough of an experience.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” The villain pulls the blanket back for her face to show a little more. “She is cute though, isn’t she?”

The hero looks down at Dusty. She blinks back at them slowly, already half asleep in the villain’s arms. The hero really hates to admit it, but she is kind of cute. At least when she’s not screaming at them and threatening to rip them to shreds.

But the hero would rather die than give the villain an ego boost. They hold back a knowing smile, and says every pet owner's call to violence: “Nah.”

Former Hero Gets a Wheelchair

Today was the day.

After months of hardly getting out of bed, months of fighting the agency’s insurance plan, months of insisting that the hero’s condition was, in fact, service related, they were finally getting a custom wheelchair delivered.

Today, they got their independence back.

The doorbell rang and Hero had never moved faster on their cane, rubber tip taps and accompanying footsteps echoing through their entryway as they reached the door. Opening it, they were greeted with a beautiful sight. A smiling worker stood behind their brand new chair.

The rigid frame was coated in a metallic blue, with shining push rims to match. Black metal completed the footrest and backrest support, blending into the black wheels and side guards. It looked sleek; It looked perfect.

Waved in by the former hero, the worker lifted the caster wheels over the door frame, pushing the chair up and inside before locking the small silver brakes.

“You ready to take her for a spin?” They asked, and the hero grinned from ear to ear. They took a seat, sliding back till their hips were settled. The worker pointed out the buckle and Hero clicked it shut.

“Safety first,” they nodded and the worker chuckled in response.

Brakes unlocked, they pushed, and they glided like they were on a cloud.

They sighed at the ease of movement, moving down the hallway with little pain. It had been so long since they could just move. They missed moving just for the fun of it, for the rush of wind in their hair and adrenaline coursing through their veins. They missed jumping across rooftops, turning their feet on a dime, climbing walls, and starting fights that they could actually win.

Overwhelmed with the return of that feeling, they found themselves increasing their speed more than what may have been advisable around the house. Consequently, when they tried to turn around, they clipped the doorframe, leaving a scuff mark on the plaster and a slight damper on their confidence.

“Takes a little getting used to,” the worker assured.

Hero continued, slightly abashed at their excitement. The worker watched, then suggested they raise the footplate a little to accommodate Hero’s thin soled shoes. After a moment with an Allen wrench, Hero was properly fitted into their new wheelchair.

Now, it just needed a name.

In their time as a Hero, they had practiced restraint when fighting countless villains. They never aimed to maim or hurt more than necessary, even if the villains pointedly did not return the favor. Ever since being forced to retire, Hero carried that sentiment into their civilian life too. However, there were times when they wished to be a little petty. Sometimes, when people blocked ramps or stared at them a little too judgingly, they wished warm pillows and bad hair days upon them. Their prayers for minor inconveniences rose especially when they saw news of a certain villain, who Hero suspected to have a set of very crushable toes.

Maybe, Hero would have to pay them a little visit, with the help of the brand new Metatarsal Muncher.

They couldn’t wait to get out of the house, to be able to function on a daily basis. They were going to get groceries, get out to retirement-events, go outside with a sense of focus not being spent on trying to stay upright, shop without a mind clouded with pain.

If only it hadn’t taken them this long to accept what they needed.

The worker showed them how to disassemble the chair. The ultra-light wheels came off with a button press in the middle, the cushion was removed so the back could fold down. Hero got to assemble it back themselves and, satisfied, the worker bid them goodbye with some maintenance and care instructions.

Far too excited to wait, the former Hero loaded their chair into the car and headed for the park, thrilled to go watch the robins and blue jays hop between the trees. Once, the former hero had envied their freedom, the ease with which they traveled and lived their lives. They had wished they could soar above the sky and dive down back to the ground. Now, as they followed the smooth concrete path through the oaks and the birches, they made peace with their own kind of freedom.

It may not look the same as it once did, but life moved on.

If they had earned nothing else in their time as a hero, it was the right to live their life in the least amount of pain possible. Despite any reservations, they would use this tool to help them, and if anyone had a problem with that, they would meet the wrath of the Metatarsal Muncher.

That’s Not Help

“Hey! Somebody help! We need med-

Oh shit.”

Vigilante froze. Standing just around the corner was about the farthest thing from help they could ever get.

Vigilante had hoped to find a member of the team stationed around the building that could help her get the person behind her to a medical extraction point. Villain’s large and imposing frame was not what she had hoped to find when she dashed down the hall.

He stared back to where her feet were planted, and Vigilante inwardly cringed at the amount of muscle in front of her.

She was not built for that kind of fight.

She took a step back, but Villain took a longer one forward.

“Who’s around the corner, Vigilante?”

Vigilante didn’t think he was particularly trying, but his voice was effortlessly intimidating.

She swallowed back a thousand pleas and quickly ran through the odds in her head. Her enemy was advancing, and the hall behind her was a dead end.

“They’re hurt, they can’t chase you,” she reasoned, but Villain’s face did not change.

“Who.”

It was forceful this time, and Vigilante steeled instead of risking a glance back. They both knew she didn’t have to tell him, he could push past her in a heartbeat. She would be wounded, or dead, either way no help to the hero.

Cooperation was the only viable tactic here.

That, or run.

Since Vigilante was no coward, she opted for the former. Still, she hated to reveal someone so vulnerable to someone so dangerous.

“[Hero].”

Villain strolled forward, but Vigilante stepped in front of him.

“It’s bad. You don’t need to go over there. They’re not a threat.”

Villain humored them by stopping his advance, but he looked down on them nonetheless.

“I don’t care if they’re a threat, I need a way out of here,” he stated obviously. Like Vigilante was just a foolish child who didn’t understand what the grownups were doing.

Vigilante was surprised by the admission and stepped out of the way to allow them both to stride over to the fallen hero before the exchange turned to confrontation at a level she could not contain.

Villain was not one to explain himself, demeaningly or not. Her anxiety eased slightly; it did not seem like Villain was planning to finish the injured party off.

[Hero] remained sprawled out on the ground, arm bent at an unnatural angle and hand pressed to a bleeding stomach wound. Their head barely lifted at their approach.

“They can’t help you.”

Vigilante tensed as Villain crouched down, but he only swatted [Hero]’s uninjured hand away and lifted the fabric from the wound to assess the damage.

“Better than nothing.”

Vigilante shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

What was his plan here?

“They need medical attention,” she pointed out warily, “they’ll be coming for them.”

The last thing she needed right now was more people walking into whatever this was completely unprepared.

“Good, I want them to.”

Villain leveled Vigilante with a stare. It was a bit of a question, almost a dare.

Vigilante took him up on it.

“I can get you out,” she suggested confidently, and Villain looked back amused.

“Are you volunteering yourself?”

His arms were crossed and his head tilted slightly with the question.

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind but-”

Voices rose from around the corner and Villain wasted no time springing to his feet and catching Vigilante by the wrist, pulling her to him and in front of [Hero]. It took every fiber of Vigilante’s being to not resist when Villain tilted her head back and leveled a a dagger against her throat.

So much for a simple escape plan.

When the team rounded the corner, they were met with much more than the simple extraction they had bargained for.

“Stop,” Villain called forcefully, and the team of six tentatively complied, slowing to a stop about thirty feet away.

“Villain,” a man in the front acknowledged while taking in the sight in front of him, “put the knife down. We’ve got you outnumbered.”

Villain made no move to do any such thing.

“We do not do hostage negotiations,” the man continued, “Plus, she is not a member of The Association.”

It didn’t take a genius to sense the contempt there.

“A civilian then,” Villain spoke, raising his eyebrow in a classic dare for contradiction.

The leader pursed his lips, clearly not happy with this turn of events.

Vigilante knew that he would never sink so low as to acknowledge the existence of unlawful vigilantes supplementing heroic actions in the community that were less-than-politically-optimal or bureaucratically-delayed. He would, however, acknowledge that it would make for some decently bad press if he were to allow anyone’s throat to be slit on his watch, let alone a beloved vigilante. Not to mention the official hero bleeding out on the ground behind her.

“What do you want?”

“I want out of this building. Not followed.”

“Done,” the leader acquiesced. The words seemed to pain him as much as [Hero]’s wound was paining them.

“And how should I believe you?”

Villain was no fool, and he would not fall for something easy.

“To your left. Go out the door, follow the hall with the red pipe. It’ll lead you to a set of double doors. They’re guarded, but the guard has been ordered to stand down. Our helicopter was grounded. That is all I can give you.” He nodded towards an opening on the other side of the hall.

Villain considered it for a second.

“I want your coms. All of them,” he ordered, as if he was the one really in charge, which admittedly he kind of was.

“I can’t possibly justify handing over tens thousands worth of tech to a-“ the leader began to argue.

“Can you justify letting a hero bleed out?” Villain responded harshly.

That was met with silence.

“I’ll consider leaving them outside,” he mocked.

And with that, a representative of the group gathered up all their wrist bands and slowly brought them over the villain.

“Theirs too,” Villain nodded behind him to the ground.

The tech was handed over with shaking hands to a less-than-enthused Vigilante, who was still being held closely at knifepoint.

With communications taken care of, Villain backed to the opening in the wall, pulling the vigilante along before shoving her out in front of him and leading her forward with a knife at her side.

Vigilante really wasn’t sure if this was all for show or if she was indeed an unwilling participant in whatever was happening here.

“You know I really hate to ask-”

“You volunteered.”

No room for argument, not that she had any.

They turned off at the first left that the hall with the red pipe allowed. Villain didn’t trust the leader, and Vigilante didn’t blame him.

A few more turns and they were out a side door. Apparently, Villain knew his way around here, which was further proof that the vigilante had made the right call.

She didn’t wait for a command to dump the bundle of gadgets onto the grass. Villain was still scanning the surrounding rooftops, but the knife was lowered.

Maybe she was free to go?

She still didn’t dare take a step, but instead took the opportunity to breathe in the fresh air- a sharp contrast from the strong must of the building in which she had spent most of the afternoon.

“If I leave you here, are you gonna go back in there?” He questioned, his full attention back on the unofficial crime fighter.

“Fuck no. To the guy that only elected not to sacrifice me because he thought of the press release? I’d rather not,” Vigilante replied genuinely. Lying to Villain never really seemed like a good idea.

“Alright,” he chuckled, before looking thoughtful. “Disappear for a few days.”

He did not offer an explanation, and Vigilante didn’t ask for one. She was off in the opposite direction of the building they came from, not wasting a beat.

When Villain lets you go, you don’t wait to be told twice.

Pinned

(Mild blood/injury description)

The hero had put up a good chase, but not good enough.

And so Villain sat, pinning them to the forest floor. The face of the hero beneath them was scrunched up and they were breathing heavy, both probably after effects of the pursuit and subsequent collision with the ground.

“That little chase certainly wore you out,” the villain taunted as they watched the rapid rise and fall of the hero’s chest.

The hero did not waste precious oxygen replying the villain, instead training their eyes on the lush canopy above them.

The villain opened their mouth to continue their mocking of the defeated hero, but something stopped them.

They felt a touch of dampness, and looked down to see blood seeping from under the hero’s clothes into the villain’s pant legs.

Well that was interesting.

“Where’d you get that?”

“It’s not a good fucking day for this,” the hero groaned, throwing their head back and disturbing a collection of dead pine needles in the process.

“Hm. Too bad.”

The villain focused their gaze on the blood-soaked waistband directly beneath them. Their calculating eyes scanned the stains to look for slashes that might indicate where exactly the blood was coming from. This was made difficult as the hero continued to struggle and wince beneath their weight.

“You’re gonna make it worse,” the villain pointed out in a neutral tone, their grip tightening in a silent warning.

The hero seemed to finally accept this, letting their head fall back into the dirt, resignation etched into their face as they pointedly avoided looking at the villain atop them.

Once the villain was convinced they had truly stopped struggling, they lifted their hips to sit a few inches further back towards the hero’s legs, taking pressure off the wound.

The hero let out a sigh of relief, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the move.

When reinforcements finally arrived, the villain took the time to properly inspect the hero’s wound. Held between two henchmen and hauled to their feet, the hero glared defiantly at the villain as they approached.

The villain paid the scowl no mind as they lifted up the fabric of the hero’s shirt to reveal a significant stab wound in their lower abdomen. The bleeding had already slowed, and it appeared from the layer of crust and dried crimson mixing with a fresher red that it had been at least a few hours since the injury was acquired.

The villain knew they certainly were not responsible, as you typically don’t sustain a clean stab wound from twigs and rocks in the forest.

They didn’t bother to question the hero about it again, knowing their response would be something along the lines of ‘go to hell.’

It didn’t matter, the villain would find out who had laid hands on their hero one way or another.