
(They/them)Hero/villain has me in a chokeholdWriting for the sake of self-indulgenceAnd funI đ©· commas
60 posts
Rain Check
Rain Check
âI donât suppose youâd be willing to take a rain check on this?â
The villain currently had the hero pinned harshly against the wall, incredulous eyes roaming across the heroâs face, searching for any sign of a joke.
They had spotted the hero sneaking through the shadows along a long line of buildings, moving quickly and carelessly with little awareness of the space around them. They were alone, dressed in civilian clothes and the villain could see no obvious weaponry on their person. All they seemed to be carrying was an unidentifiable plastic shopping bag that swung wildly with their pace. It was perfect, and the villain would never let a good opportunity go to waste. The villain was able to get closer, and closer, and finally close enough to catch the hero completely off guard and land a solid unguarded punch to the gut, causing the hero to drop their bag and double over. The fight commenced from there, and soon brought the heroâs back to collide with hard brick.
âRight when Iâm winning? I donât think so, Dear,â the villain spoke pitifully, before grabbing the hero by the shoulders, then throwing them off the wall roughly to the ground and following them onto the concrete.
âIâm serious-â the hero started, but was cut off into a wheeze by the weight of the villain kneeling on their chest, hands forcing their arms down by their sides.
âSo am I. Why would I forfeit such a victory?â The villain teased towards the obviously-overpowered hero. The question was mostly rhetorical, the villain was not one who gave up advantages easily.
Despite the heroâs pleas, they werenât struggling, and the villain suddenly found themselves somewhat disconcerted. Come to think of it, the hero hadnât landed a single good hit on the villain, despite the fact that the hero was almost certainly already turning black and blue themselves. The villain leaned back to study the hero, wondering if maybe something was wrong. Certainly, there was no fun in beating an opponent that didnât even bother to put up a fight.
âWhatâs the matter with you?â The villain asked after a moment still absent of any defiance from the hero. Not so much as a glare; in fact, the hero was pointedly ignoring the villainâs gaze. Their eyes appeared to be locked across the street, possibly at the freshly-graffitied dumpster that provided a colorful distraction from the rest of the dull city, and from this situation apparently.
The hero finally spoke after another moment passed, reluctance lacing their tone, âWhat will it take for you to let me go right now?â
The villain did not see that coming. They should have been overjoyed, mind racing with the possibilities of what they could extort from the hero, or how much they could make them suffer by keeping them here. Instead, they just felt their face souring.
After the villain failed to produce any words of response to the heroâs question, the heroâs eyes finally turned to the person atop them. Desperation, clear and heavy, was written across their face.
The villain was once again taken aback. Shaking their head to clear their thoughts, they suddenly remembered the bag that the hero had dropped. They looked over, and the plastic was within reach so they began to pull it over and dump the contents out onto the concrete.
âPlease! The fate of the world depends on it-â
Three Elmerâs glue bottles tumbled free of the plastic, causing the villain to stare wide-eyed at the pile.
âThe fate of the world depends on,â the villain sounded carefully before they shifted their gaze from the orange-capped bottles to level deadpan at the hero. ââŠglue.â
âYou donât understand, okay? The flour wasnât working and we ran out of Elmerâs and the project is due first thing in the morn-â the hero rambled, stopping only to suck in a breath before they were interrupted by the villain.
âFlour? Glue? Please tell me you arenât subbing a baking ingredient for white glue.â The villain imagined how it would taste to eat the props from those cereal commercials, the ones where the milk was replaced with glue to keep the pieces from getting soggy. They grimaced. The new scented sticks would taste so much better than the liquid.
âFirst of all, itâs nontoxic,â the hero stated.
âThat doesnât mean-â
âSecond of all, thatâs not what itâs for,â the hero continued defensively.
âSo what is it for? How could you possibly be saving the world with four ounces of school glue?â The villain eased their knee off the heroâs chest so they could breathe, but kept them lying with their back on the sidewalk, definitely-non-edible glue bottles strewn out beside them.
âPaper mache. Obviously,â the hero rolled their eyes disapprovingly at the villain, like it was a well-known fact that the world has been saved with newspaper and liquid glue countless times.
âRightâŠâ the villain was dumbfounded. Were theyâŠmissing something?
Luckily, the hero continued, âWe saved the Earth for last; we had the paint and everything but I mixed in too much water and now itâs just floppyâwhich is great if you believe in flat Earth I guess but not great if youâre trying to get a good grade for the science fair-â
The villain blinked. Science fair. Earth. Paper mache-
Oh my god.
âYouâre asking me to let you go so you can build a replica of the solar system?!â
âLook, itâs really important to him and I promised weâd do it together-â
âWho?â The villain interrupted.
âMy brother. Duh.â Right. Of course. How could they possibly not have known?
The villain honestly had to respect the audacity.
âHow about we come back tomorrow,â the villain offered. As much as they hated to admit it, the mental image of a frowning child holding up an incomplete 3D display of the solar system all alone in front of a poorly-decorated tri-fold board pulled at their heart strings.
âAfter 12? Thatâs when it ends,â the hero blinked up at them with pleading eyes, and the villain caved, releasing their arms and standing up off the ground.
âSure.â
The villain couldnât believe theyâve gotten so soft.
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More Posts from Neon-kazoo
Unnatural
(Based on a POV video I saw on YouTube by jayleehna- âDetective pulling the rope around the villain making sure itâs tight enough/But the rope snaps in two when they flex their bicepâ)
He flexed, and the ropes creaked hard as they frayed and broke within a matter of seconds.
âWhat the fuck?â She spoke from the right of the chair to which the villain should have been tied.
She did not cower or take any steps back, simply standing her ground and staring astonishingly at the villain. âNo. You canât justâŠdo that. Itâs not natural,â she stated, sounding offended of all things. Villain was surprised but amused when Hero actually took a step towards him to pick up the rope and inspect the broken ends.
âThis,â the hero held up the rope in the face of the villain who was now standing and towering over her. âThis, is not okay.â
âNot..okay?â He chuckled, perplexed by but equally enjoying the heroâs lack of fear. Hero took her eyes off the villain, as if he still wasnât a threat even with her carefully-tied knots gone, and pulled on parts of the rope between her two hands, testing the strength.
âShouldnât you be running, sweetheart?â He pointed out, ignoring the rage that spiked at the heroâs deference.
âA,â the hero started, defiant as ever and making no move to do any such thing, âDo not call me sweetheart. B. What on Earth is running going to do against someone who can break ropes with their biceps?â
She sounded more annoyed than scared and the villain didnât know how he felt about that. He was used to always having an exceedingly intimidating presence, and people acting as such. This was new.
But not necessarily bad.
âOkay, darling,â he mocked, tilting his head and reaching for the arm of the hero. âI take it youâll listen to me then?â
âOh I never said that,â the hero responded, looking right back into the Villainâs eyes, a spark of determination present there that wasnât before. She wrenched her arm away from him and took a step back.
âClearly, youâsirâneed to learn some manners. And I need to invest in some stronger rope,â the hero exclaimed sternly and then matter-of-factly.
Before the villain could question how those were the heroâs take aways from this situation, she blinked out of existence, leaving Villain to realize that the room he was held in had no doors.
So much for super strength, he thought as he raged fruitlessly against the solid metal floor and reinforced-concrete walls, waiting unwillingly for the hero to return.
Choo Choo (Train Top Chase- The Briefcase)
(cw: threats, knife violence)
When Hero heard that Villain was planning to steal something in transit on the railroad, they assumed that they would find him rummaging through one of the sixty plus freight cars lined up on the tracks. They did not expect to find an immaculately dressed Villain surrounded by similarly dressed people dining in a singular passenger car at the end of the train.
The caboose of the train wasâŠout of place, to say the least. Polished cherry wood lined the top of it, sealed and waxed to an impressive level of shine. There was no rust to be found, which was impressive for a train exposed to the elements for days on end. Chestnut paneling and gilded accents completed the outside, which was notably absent of any identifying number markers. The craftsmanship of the exterior was a stark contrast to the amateur graffiti that marked the previous car that the caboose was coupled to.
Hero observed the carriage car through a convenient skylight as the train started to move. The interior was similarly well-crafted with white tiered ceilings that gave way to wide windows, separated into panes only in conjunction with the white-clothed dining tables and corresponding upholstered booth seats. The silver cutlery gleamed in the light that filtered through lace curtains. Hero would not have been surprised to see a chandelier strung from the roof, made of crystals or something similarly stunning. It looked fit to hold a wedding, complete with a dozen guests all dressed in black tie apparel. Villain himself wore a black suit, dress shoes polished and brown hair gelled down. His face was even freshly shaven. A picture perfect gentlemanâthe opposite of his true nature.
There appeared to be some type of business taking placeâas opposed to this being just a randomly-conspicuous social gathering or a confusingly-disguised heist. A singular black briefcase sat inconspicuously at the feet of a black-haired man. Hero would have thought nothing of it, but it seemed to be the only bag in the room, not to mention that every pair of eyes seemed to be ogling it at every sly opportunity. Deciding that there was no way this was legitimate business if Villain was present, Hero resolved to keep the briefcase out of all of their hands.
Several conversations were taking place around the tablesânone of which could Hero hear over the rumbling of the tracksâbut Hero was only focused on one specific group.
Villain stood in front of a booth that sat one woman in a pencil-straight maroon dress and one man in a suit with a corresponding maroon tie. Hero watched the fake laughs and twirling forks until Villain leaned in close to make his excuses to his company before he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small carton.
Hero crawled to the back of the roof, careful not to alert the people sipping champagne inside that an uninvited guest was about to crash their party. When he exited the back door of the train to stand on the small platform there, cigarette in hand, Hero pounced.
Villain did not even have a chance to flick open his lighter before Hero was on him, swinging down from the overhang to kick him square in the chest. He was pushed back into the railing, giving Hero enough space to land on the platform and get a hand wrapped over the door handle. Determining this was not the safest place for a fight, Hero swung open the door and rushed inside before Villain had a chance to recover.
They took advantage of the startled and stunned people inside the car and made a beeline for the man with the case. About halfway there, Hero bumped into a woman with braids who consequently spilled her bubbly drink down the front of her expensive-looking pink dress. Hero mouthed their apologies before snatching the case from the floor across the aisle, much to the chagrin of the black-haired man who tried to grab for their arm. Light on their feet, Hero deftly avoided his grip and slid open the door on the other side, which was harder to do than they thought thanks to the weird air pressure between the cars.
A chorus of offended shouts got swallowed by the gap as Hero fought to close the door behind them. From there, Hero would scale the ladder on the back of the container car and make the leap to the truck they had called to pull up alongside the train. At least, thatâs what they thought they would do before they reached the top one-handed and raced to the edge of the roof.
When they looked down, they saw there was no truck, and more importantly, there was no road. Here, the tracks were paralleled only by a river. Huh, they must have seriously misjudged the speed of the train.
A quick glance back to the ladder revealed a brown-haired head just about to graze the top.
Well, time for plan B.
There were no tunnels on this routeâthey checkedâso at least Hero didnât have to worry about being taken out Indiana Jones style as they ran across the box car towards the front of the locomotive. Blessedly, the first chain of freight cars were all the same height and the train had yet to hit a curve. It was easier than expected to step between them.
They kept moving forward, crossing one car after another. Their steps landed on tops from faded orange to blue to grey to brown. After about the tenth container, something changed.
The next car had no roof, instead filled to the top with some type of granules. Deciding that pile looked a little too much like quicksand, Hero elected to chance balancing along the edge of the hopper car for fear of silo-style suffocation. Hero slowed to ensure their steps were trueâwhich was probably a bad move in hindsightâand finally leapt the rest of the way to the thankfully-covered train car waiting ahead.
Just when they were getting back into a rhythm and gaining speed and confidence, Hero reached the tanker section.
The tanker cars stretched out as far as their eyes could see, all black cylinders, sporting rails only in the middle and much wider gaps between them than the previous box cars had. Jumping down onto the first one, Hero ran and grabbed the bar, vaulting over the valve access and heading towards the next. Praying to every god they could think of and making several promises they didnât plan on keeping, Hero made the leap between the first tanker car and the second. It was an extremely weird feeling, jumping forward on something that was already moving forward with wind resistance pushing you back. Hero had no time to dwell on it though.
They risked another glance back, confirming their fear that Villain was still in pursuit.
How Villain could keep up a train-top chase dressed in those clothes was anyoneâs guess. Hero certainly wouldâve ripped a seam by now in such a well-tailored dress pants.
And those shoes.
There was no way a normal pair of dress shoes was getting any traction on top of a tanker car. They must have custom rubber soles or something even grippier. Probably some new material that hadnât even hit the market yet.
Rich fucker could definitely afford it.
Unfortunately for Hero, they were rather poor and did not have access to state-of-the-art footware, and it took only one misstep to almost go plummeting towards the couplings. Said misstep occurred around the fifth leap.
They caught themselves enough to stumble forward a few more steps onto the cylinder, but were unable to keep their balance with the briefcase throwing them off. They dropped onto their stomach, grappling for a handhold anywhere. They began to slip off the side, fingerless glove not finding enough traction on the side of the smooth metal tank. They couldnât reach the cap or the ladder to stop their fall with their one free hand, so they used the last of their precious split second to push away from the car and hope it was enough to keep from being crushed beneath the train wheels.
They hit the ground with a series of crunches they hoped were only the gravel around the tracks shifting under their weight. Groaning, they thanked themselves for their choice of attireâcovered completely from head to toeâbecause otherwise they would likely be pulling pebbles out of their skin for weeks. As soon as they were sure they werenât about to lose life or limb to the roaring train, they looked up just in time to see Villain roll and landâadmittedly more gracefully than themâa few dozen feet ahead.
Attempting to pick themselves up, Hero gritted their teeth. Their tuck-and-roll had turned into more of a sprawl-and-tumble. That was definitely going to hurt tomorrow.
That was, assuming they made it to tomorrow, which they realized with a wince was quite a presumption. Villain stalked towards them, seemingly unbothered by the whole falling/jumping-off-a-train thing.
His hair was still slicked back perfectly, but his tie was slightly askewâthe only visible sign of the chase Hero could find. It didnât even look like he was breathing hardâwhich was ridiculous. Heroâs breaths were heavy enough to blow down a brick house, and they considered themselves to be in pretty good shape.
Putting aside Villainâs infuriating fitness level for later, Hero finally managed to get their feet underneath them and wasted no time turning and running in the opposite direction, briefcase roughed up but still in hand. Either they were miraculously uninjured, or adrenaline was really a hell of a drug. Regardless, they scrambled back up the loose-gravel pile and followed the rails back the way they came, hoping to make it back to the section with the road, which was seeming further and further away the longer they thought about it.
How long had they stayed atop the train?
They really, desperately did not want to look back behind them. Although they couldnât hear him over the roaring in their ears, Hero knew instinctively that Villain was hot on their tail. Problem was, the road was no where in sight, and there was nowhere else to go. Unless Hero wanted to chance class III rapids with no floatation deviceâplus, who knew if the case was waterproofâthe only things around were wide open grass plains and steep hills peppered with hard-to-scale pine trees. Not to mention the bugs and bears and who knew what else that probably littered the countryside. Hero couldnât run forever, and for all they knew, Villain could.
This led them to the unfortunate realization that this mission was probably not going to end in success. Maybe they should have thought this through a little more.
That realization was appropriately accompanied by the feeling of something crashing into them from behind. Tumbling onto the tracks for a second time that day, Hero yelped as one of their elbows hit the rail harshly.
Great, another bruise. Or worse.
Rolling quickly onto their back, ready to spring back upright, Hero spotted the culprit lying across the tracks.
A stick.
He threw a stick at them.
Hero cursed themselves for being bested by a glorified twig of all things.
âDonât get me wrong, I do enjoy a good long chase, but surely you must be getting tired by now,â came a voice from behind them that should have been breathless, and Hero cursed that it wasnât.
They were quickly back on their feet. Their legs were on fire, their elbow throbbed, their skin prickled, and their throat and lungs burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.
Nope. Not tired at all.
Heroâs lead had dwindled greatly in the time it had taken them to get back up. They knew with painful certainty that they could no longer out run Villain on a straight-away.
Okay, on to plan C.
Hero gathered the last of their energy and dashed off the tracks and down the hill, making a beeline for the river. In front of them, the water churned to the point of opaqueness. Perfect.
Hero spotted a boulder on the waterâs edge and promptly threw themselves on top of it. Grateful for their knee pads, they clambered up to the highest point. From there, they held the briefcase out over the water and shouted an order for the villain to stop.
Villain halted in the tall grass a dozen feet away, which Hero almost counted as a victory before they spotted the perturbing smirk on his face.
âThatâs cute,â he called back, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning back casually.
Adrenaline reserves exhausted, Hero fought to maintain a neutral expression as their knees turned to jelly and they remained greedy for oxygen.
It would be really unfortunate if they fell into the river right now.
âSo whatâs your plan? Toss your only bargaining chip in the river and hope for the best?â Villain inquired with an air of curiosity, as if this show was amusing to him.
âItâs simple. You leave, and this case lives for you to steal another day,â Hero spoke in what they hoped was a calm and assured voice. They added a pat against the side of the leather casing for good measure.
âI believe the only thief here is you.â
Hero thought Villain ended that correction with a chuckle, but it was honestly hard to hear with the raging river in the immediate background.
âDo you even know whatâs in there?â He asked.
Hero, in fact, did not.
âOf course I do. How else would I know you wouldnât want to risk losing it in a river,â Hero blustered with all the courage they could muster.
âIt would be an inconvenience at best. You think I donât have contingency plans? A tracker, perhaps?â Villain was much better at achieving a tone of nonchalance than Hero.
Hero had no idea if he was bluffing. They didnât even know if they were bluffing.
Would a tracker even matter if the case got caught under the current? Would they really risk throwing this mysterious bag into the rapids? For all they knew, it could explode. Or poison all the local wildlife. Or something equally catastrophic.
Hero once again found themselves envious of Villainâs calm demeanor. He should have at least been sweating through his starch-white dress shirt by now.
Villain did have a point. Plan C was no where near foolproof.
Hero sized him up.
Itâd be hard to hide a weapon in a suit that tight, but then again if itâs truly custom there could be all kinds of hidden pockets-
Who were they kidding, his weapon of choice earlier was a stick.
So no weapon, but that didnât mean he still wasnât dangerous. If at all possible, Hero would still like to avoid a fight.
âDo you have a counter offer?â
âYes. Give me the case, and they wonât have to clean your blood off the train pistons,â he replied evenly.
Hero blanched at the visceral image triggered by his statement. They tried to reassure themselves that they were armed, albeit with a measly switchblade and utility knife, and their opponent was most likely not. Plus, in true Obi Wan fashion, they had the literal high ground.
âLike Hell Iâm just handing this over,â Hero scoffed as loudly as they could, âYou wouldnât hesitate to tie me to the tracks regardless. You watch too many cartoons, by the way. There are plenty of ways to kill me that donât involve traumatizing some poor train conductor.â
Hero punctuated their response with an exaggerated eye roll. Unfortunately, what their eyes landed back on was not the smooth stone they expected to see beneath them. Instead, they found themselves staring right at the diamond back of a snake sunning itself on the rock.
They threw their arms up in surprise, which sent a jolt through their hand from their injured elbow. Furthering the series of unfortunate events, this caused Hero to lose their grip on the case. The mystery container went plummeting into the white water, but Hero had more pressing concerns at the moment. They had stumbled back from the legless reptile and subsequently lost their footing. They flailed, about to meet the same fate as the contentious case.
Before they could, however, they were yanked back by the hood of their jacket, and they collided with the hard rock instead of the turbulent water. They were pulled the rest of the way down into the softer grass and, temporarily blinded by the relief of not drowning, they didnât resist.
âYou assume,â came a voice that was unmistakably filtered through gritted teeth, âthat I would let you die.â
Realizing they were far from safe after that near-death experience, Hero pushed away from the hands that saved them. It did them no good as they were manhandled to their feet, but they continued to struggle anyway.
âWhat? Still think you can outrun me? Go ahead. Try.â
He threw them back to the ground, challenge written all over his face as he peered down at them. Hero felt their ankle fold beneath them and swore.
They couldnât, they knew they couldnât, but they couldnât just give up.
Out of options, Hero reached for the switchblade that was clipped to their waistband.
Their hands found nothing but cloth.
Panicked, they looked up towards Villain. They were horrified to find their blade flicked open in his hand.
âLooking for this?â He asked lightly, pausing to study the tip with faux curiosity, âWhat were you going to do with it? A light jab, perhaps?â Quick as the snake that brought them to this position, Villain pushed the blade into their ribs and pulled it right back out.
Hero choked in disbelief. He didnât cut deep, but the wound was dangerously close to their lungs.
âA slash? Or two?â
Villain caught Hero once on their upper arm and once on the opposite lower arm with shallow cuts as they attempted to block.
âMaybe something a little more substantial. The kidneys?â
Hero crabbed walked back as best they could, which wasnât good enough. Villain descended atop them, intent clear in the movement of the blade.
âShit, dude! What the fuck was in there?!â
Villain stopped and held the knife still. It was pointed at their abdomen, pushing lightly into the cloth of their jacket. He was kneeling beside them, one hand on their shoulder to keep them from moving back.
âSo youâre a liar and a thief?â He asked rhetorically. Hero was frozen with terror and exhaustion, hands pushing into their side where the metal had entered. Villain leaned in closer, and Hero heard a whimper leave their own lips involuntarily.
âMaybe youâll find out when you get it for me,â He nearly whispered.
Hero blinked.
They pulled back slightly as hands grabbed onto their arms. Villainâs expression darkened.
âWeâre getting up. Unless you need another reminder?â He questioned, brandishing the knife and holding it lightly to the inside of heroâs thigh. Hero shook their head frantically and allowed themselves to be pulled up onto their feet.
Swallowing the pain from their ankle and the grip on their forearm that crossed over the gash in the fabric of their sleeve, they steeled.
They were going to need so many painkillers later.
âŠ
There was going to be a later, right?
Hero held their gaze on the view of the landscape around them. Where the water hit the rocks and sprayed upwards, they spotted a small rainbow projected onto the vapor.
Hand on the back of their neck, Villain led them away. As Hero limped along, they felt a bit like a misbehaving kitten that had been caught by its mom and dragged back to the litter by its scruff. Embarrassed, injured, and utterly defeated.
Honk Honk (part 2)
Chronically Ill Hero Idea
Their body was not built for fights, for daring escapes or for high-speed chases.
But the hero did not care.
So what if it made the pain flare so bad they remained incapacitated for weeks, body trapped in bed, head rested on a pillow just wishing for an end? So what if it only got harder and harder to move and keep up, the close calls getting closer and closer, the brushes with death getting more and more frequent?
It made them feel alive.
More alive than the sight of ivory walls, more alive than the feel of a needle entering the crook of their arm, more alive than the taste of another bitter prescription.
So if destroying their body was the price to pay, then so be it.
They would die to feel alive.
Searching
She stepped carefully across the gravel that filled the lot behind the abandoned building. Her eyes flicked from side to side, searching between the broken cars and machinery that littered the surrounding area, searching for any sign of him. She had scoured the entire town for any account of a sighting, any tip as to where the villain may have been. This location had been her first leadâ a sighting reported by a gentleman in ragged clothes who had since migrated to the other end of town. She moved as quietly as possible, on the very off chance that someone was around this part of town at this time of day. It was the evening, about six oâclock, rush hour was over and the working class had already returned to their homes. This part of town was mainly abandoned anyway, the only intact buildings around had weathered for-lease signs and most businesses had long since moved on. She desperately hoped to find something, anything here that could aid in her mission. The man she searched for had so far proven himself to be a ghostâ not a trace left or seen anywhere.
That wasnât going to stop her though.
She peeked into an old truck bed, and her eyes zeroed in on a piece of clothing that had been discarded in the corner. It was the most out-of-place article that she had encountered so far. Temporarily, poorly-contained optimism clouded her senses as she reached for the dark blue fabric. Too late she heard the crunch of rocks underneath the heel of a boot. Too late she tried to spin around, only for her body to be slammed into the tailgate of the old red truck, her outstretched arm now twisted painfully behind her back. Before she could finish the groan that escaped her lips when her stomach collided with the rusted metal, a second hand reached and grabbed the large knife she had sheathed at her hip. She attempted to crane her neck back unsuccessfully as her concealed weapons were one by one removed from her person by a skilled hand that worked quicker than she could process. Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she attempted to thrash and kick back at her assailant. Her free arm tried desperately to claw or reach for any remaining knives. Unfortunately, the figure behind her held strong and worked fast, their now-free hand tangling itself into her hair and pushing her head down, erasing any chance of catching a glimpse of its owner. Her mind raced now that her protections had disappeared and she was clearly outmatched in strength. However, her rapid thoughts froze immediately after a voice spoke behind her.
âLooking for someone?â
She couldnât speak. She could barely breathe. She knew better than to get excited at a stupid piece of cloth. She had training and yet she had managed to be bested in a matter of seconds.
This wasnât supposed to happen. It wasnât supposed to go this way.
Her thoughts came to a screeching halt once again as the figure pressed up against her back and warm breath met her ear.
âCause I donât appreciate people sniffing around in my business.â
No.
Thereâs no way this was him. This was just supposed to be a lead. She was not prepared to actually encounter anyone yet, let alone him. This was supposed to take months maybe even yearsâŠ
And yet she had found him.
No. He had found her.
The hand in her hair yanked back before releasing and returning to pull her other hand behind her back, attaching her wrists together with the zip of a plastic tie. Before she could think of using the opportunity to twist around and use her legs to her advantageâhowever stupid that may have been now that she was unarmed and her opponent was now definitely notâshe was manhandled back by her wrists and forced onto her knees by a swift kick to the back of her legs. Gravel dug into her skin through her pants and she gritted her teeth.
A sudden anger surged within her. She had just let this happen. Why didnât she fight harder? Why didnât she know someone was behind her? She should have scouted the place out faster, been more prepared for a fight. Truth was she was too stunned to do anything. She was unprepared and all of her opportunities were lost.
She took in her new situation. Weaponless, on her knees in unfamiliar territory with an unknown assailant.
âThat was way too easy for someone whoâs shown as much tenacity as you. You just couldnât let it go, could you? You knew youâd find nothing and yet you continued to look. Iâm sure you were warned, so why? Why search for a ghost whose notoriety means only certain death for you?â
She stayed silent, her eyes trained on the ground. She didnât dare take her sights off the grey rocks. If it was really him, he couldnât know who she was. Why she was here.
Not yet at least.
âThe way I see it, you must have a damn good reason for coming here. And by here I donât just mean this side of the tracks. So I think Iâm gonna meet the person in front of me, whether you like it or not.â
Still, she didnât provide a response. Even as she sensed him stepping closer.
âAfter all, you could have fought harder.â
And DAMN him. She knew she could have. She knew she should haveâŠ
But he was right. She had a damn good reason. Because he knew everything.
Everything she needed to know.
She fought the urge to slam her head into his at his whisper in the close proximity. He seemed to have sensed this by the twitch of her neck in his direction.
âTrait number one: smart. That move would definitely not have earned you any points. I believe I sense a bit of feistiness in you too. I like it.â
The hand returned to her hair and soon her face met the ground, her nose crunching with the gravel as blood began to trickle down her face without her hands to break the fall.
âBut you know what I donât like? People who donât listen when I speak. I said, âwho are you?ââ
The force on her head multiplied and she turned her neck so that her mouth could suck in much needed air. A knee pressed into her back, keeping her down.
âYou technically never said that, and I am smarter than to answer that anyway,â she forced the words past her lips in a manner just short of a chuckle.
âDefinitely feisty. Smart-ass may be more accurate.â
His grip lightened and she was pulled back upright by a strong hand clamped on her shoulder. In front of her, a view was revealed of the sun dipping below the trees across the lot, the sky turning a fiery orange at the horizon. Each object around the lot cast a long shadow in the evening light, each stretching out towards her like they wished to envelop her in their darkness.
She almost wished they could.
But she had finally found what she was looking for.
Now what?
âSo Ms. Smart-and-feisty, to what do I owe the pleasure of being the object of your obsession?â
A Blurry Encounter
âStop!â Villain called towards the approaching Hero. They brought their weapon up to point directly at the head of their enemy and-
Their face lookedâŠdifferent today.
âWhy would I stop?â The hero asked quizzically, tilting their head and continuing to stride towards their nemesis on the abandoned street.
âWhat do you mean âwhy would I- because I have a gun??â
âOh!â Hero belatedly stopped in their tracks, then questioned, âThatâs what that is?â
Villain stayed silent in confusion, looking between the hero, the weapon, and themselves.
âThis?â Villain waved their hand for clarification, grip tight around the dark metal they were using to threaten the cityâs savior.
Hero grimaced and took a step back.
âSorry, it kinda blends into your outfit.â
Villain blinked at them.
âWhat did you think this was?â Villain questioned.
âI donât know! Maybe if you hadnât broken my goggles last week I would be able to see-â
âSeriously?! First of all, that was hardly my fault. That building practically fell itself; that foundation was definitely not up to code. Second of all, you seriously donât own contacts?â
âItâs unnatural to touch your eyes! Plus, imagine the safety concerns: I could get something in my eye-â
âMore unsafe than not recognizing a gun?â
Heroâs mouth formed a thin line at that.
âYou couldâve just announced yourself!â
âYou didnât even realize I was threatening you?! Maybe try relying less on color blobs and more on context clues.â
âMaybe try paying more attention to your opponent,â Hero taunted, at the same time they loosed a small throwing dagger towards the preoccupied Villain.
Villain barely had time to watch the blade go whizzing past their shoulder.
âWow. I didnât think you were that blind-â
âYou moved!â
âSure I did,â Villain chuckled, pulling out a glint which Hero assumed to be a knife of their own.
âItâs a shame only one of us is near-sighted.â
Hero didnât need their glasses to see that it was time to run.