Long Slender Fingers

Long Slender Fingers

Turn gnarly and old

Can’t grab, can’t clutch

Can’t go out in the cold

Two active built legs

Now buckle and fold

Never again will they run

Or so they are told

A ‘Special’ bright mind

Turns cloudy and fails

Can’t feel, can’t think

Its intellect pales

Small gifted child

Chained, constrained

Can’t move, can’t make

A body so pained

Once a ‘good time girl’

Lost to time and life

The good with the bad

Like the edge of a knife

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last ten people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your followers, mutuals, and all the wonderful people on here!

1. Long grass that sways in the wind

2. Listening to people rant about things they’re passionate about

3. Music (You will rarely catch me without an AirPod in)

4. Driving/riding in a car (I am like a baby in those car commercials. If you need to calm me down just stick me in a car and drive me around.)

5. Obscure comparisons (ex: she lit up like the inside of an easy-bake oven)

I’m so bad about sending these things on, but I’m happy to answer!

Rain Check

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take a rain check on this?”

The villain currently had the hero pinned harshly against the wall, incredulous eyes roaming across the hero’s 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 hero’s back to collide with hard brick.

“Right when I’m winning? I don’t think so, Dear,” 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.

“I’m serious-“ 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.

“So am I. Why would I forfeit such a victory?” 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 hero’s pleas, they weren’t struggling, and the villain suddenly found themselves somewhat disconcerted. Come to think of it, the hero hadn’t 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 didn’t even bother to put up a fight.

“What’s the matter with you?” 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 villain’s 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, “What will it take for you to let me go right now?”

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 hero’s question, the hero’s 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.

“Please! The fate of the world depends on it-“

Three Elmer’s glue bottles tumbled free of the plastic, causing the villain to stare wide-eyed at the pile.

“The fate of the world depends on,” the villain sounded carefully before they shifted their gaze from the orange-capped bottles to level deadpan at the hero. “…glue.”

“You don’t understand, okay? The flour wasn’t working and we ran out of Elmer’s and the project is due first thing in the morn-“ the hero rambled, stopping only to suck in a breath before they were interrupted by the villain.

“Flour? Glue? Please tell me you aren’t subbing a baking ingredient for white glue.” 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.

“First of all, it’s nontoxic,” the hero stated.

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Second of all, that’s not what it’s for,” the hero continued defensively.

“So what is it for? How could you possibly be saving the world with four ounces of school glue?” The villain eased their knee off the hero’s chest so they could breathe, but kept them lying with their back on the sidewalk, definitely-non-edible glue bottles strewn out beside them.

“Paper mache. Obviously,” 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.

“Right…” the villain was dumbfounded. Were they…missing something?

Luckily, the hero continued, “We saved the Earth for last; we had the paint and everything but I mixed in too much water and now it’s just floppy–which is great if you believe in flat Earth I guess but not great if you’re trying to get a good grade for the science fair-“

The villain blinked. Science fair. Earth. Paper mache-

Oh my god.

“You’re asking me to let you go so you can build a replica of the solar system?!”

“Look, it’s really important to him and I promised we’d do it together-“

“Who?” The villain interrupted.

“My brother. Duh.” Right. Of course. How could they possibly not have known?

The villain honestly had to respect the audacity.

“How about we come back tomorrow,” 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.

“After 12? That’s when it ends,” the hero blinked up at them with pleading eyes, and the villain caved, releasing their arms and standing up off the ground.

“Sure.”

The villain couldn’t believe they’ve gotten so soft.

Hero’s Teddy Bear

The fire alarm was already blaring by the time Villain crossed the threshold into Hero’s room. Behind them, people rushed out into the hall holding various items of importance, including but not limited to small children and all types of electronic devices. Villain breathed deeply, the smell of gasoline pungent in the air. They smiled.

All they had to do now was drop the match and wait.

A few minutes passed, and a quarter of the building was now engulfed in flames. Dozens of people were huddled out on the street, some clutching pets and most still dressed in pajamas. Villain went completely unnoticed under the almost-blinding red and white lights of the fire trucks. They watched with satisfaction that grew with the inferno until a secondary commotion drew their attention away from the glowing orange and towards the entrance to the lobby. Villain was delighted to see Hero running towards the burning apartment, fear and surprise etched clearly into their face. Several firefighters were attempting to hold them back, yelling sense about safety and smoke inhalation. They may as well have been trying to talk down the flames themselves for all the good it was doing to calm the hero.

Finally accepting that they weren’t going to get through the line of emergency personnel out front, Hero retreated back towards the crowd, possibly hoping to sneak around back and scale the fire escape to their apartment.

“You keep it a little hot up there, don’t you think?” Villain taunted, stepping out of the crowd behind the line of rescue vehicles to stand behind Hero.

Hero whirled at the sound of their voice. Their eyes were as wild as Villain had ever seen them, blown out pupils still jumping erratically between the villain and the flames.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hero spoke quickly, “Sir Fluffs-a-lot could be burning to death up there-“

“Oh I think we have plenty of time. Fires like that take a while to put out you know- I’m sorry,” Villain cut off with a blink, “Sir who?”

“Sir Fluffs-a-lot,” Hero repeated frantically, “He’s lavender-“

“What are you- You mean that ratty old bear that definitely belongs in the trash?” Villain interjected.

“-and he has a bow tie-

…what did you just say?”

Hero went rigid. They turned slowly to face the Villain. Villain laughed nervously, unsure of Hero’s new tone.

“I mean…the very well-loved purple teddy bear you keep in your bed?” They corrected carefully.

“Villain,” Hero spoke lowly, “How do you know about Sir Fluffs-a-lot?”

“Um..”

A dangerous stare caused Villain’s confidence to drain like a freshly-cleaned sink.

“I… may have moved all your stuff out before starting the fire,” they confessed weakly, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of their neck and avoiding eye contact with Hero.

Hero’s face was plastered with a deadly calm.

“Villain,” Hero repeated, even lower than before, “Where is Sir Fluffs-a-lot?”

Instinctively, Villain took a step back.

Forgetting the burning apartment entirely, Hero stalked evenly towards the speechless Villain. When the whereabouts of their beloved teddy were still not revealed, Hero leapt forward, launching themselves at the Villain in the middle of the sidewalk.

Now it was Villain’s turn to run, and Hero’s turn to be delighted.

Bonus:

“Some more tea, Villain?”

Hero poured some more of the imaginary liquid into the cup and saucer in front of Villain. Villain mumbled their thanks, but did not reach for the cup. They couldn’t, their arms were tied to the chair.

Smiling politely, Hero brought the rose-themed teapot over to Sir Fluffs-a-lot, who sat across from Villain propped up in a high chair. He was dressed in a tiny tux with a complementary top hat, and Villain had no idea where Hero found formal clothes that fit that well. Hero poured the bear more air-tea before setting the pot down in the center of the lace tablecloth.

“Lovely weather lately, don’t you think?” Hero addressed to the group. Villain opened their mouth to reply, but sealed it shut again after Hero cut them a deadly glare. They returned their gaze to the dapperly dressed teddy.

Ah, Sir Fluffs-a-lot was speaking.

The small talk continued with roughly a third of the time spent in silence observing the replies of the smallest guest at the table. A real conversationalist, he was. Villain did their best to mind their manner, hoping to escape this mandatory tea party somewhat unscathed.

Finally, when the tea cake platter ran out, Hero turned to Villain.

“Villain, Do you have something you wish to say to Sir Fluffs-a-lot?”

Villain drew in a deep breath, then spoke in the best customer service voice they could manage, “I’m sorry for abducting you, Sir Fluffs-a-lot. It won’t happen again.”

Hero smiled to themselves, pleased. It most definitely would not.

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 lead— 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 o’clock, 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 ghost— not a trace left or seen anywhere.

That wasn’t 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.

“Looking for someone?”

She couldn’t 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 wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t 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.

“Cause I don’t appreciate people sniffing around in my business.”

No.

There’s 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 years…

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 advantage—however stupid that may have been now that she was unarmed and her opponent was now definitely not—she 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 didn’t she fight harder? Why didn’t 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.

“That was way too easy for someone who’s shown as much tenacity as you. You just couldn’t let it go, could you? You knew you’d find nothing and yet you continued to look. I’m sure you were warned, so why? Why search for a ghost whose notoriety means only certain death for you?”

She stayed silent, her eyes trained on the ground. She didn’t dare take her sights off the grey rocks. If it was really him, he couldn’t know who she was. Why she was here.

Not yet at least.

“The way I see it, you must have a damn good reason for coming here. And by here I don’t just mean this side of the tracks. So I think I’m gonna meet the person in front of me, whether you like it or not.”

Still, she didn’t provide a response. Even as she sensed him stepping closer.

“After all, you could have fought harder.”

And DAMN him. She knew she could have. She knew she should have…

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.

“Trait 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.”

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.

“But you know what I don’t like? People who don’t listen when I speak. I said, ‘who are you?’”

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.

“You technically never said that, and I am smarter than to answer that anyway,” she forced the words past her lips in a manner just short of a chuckle.

“Definitely feisty. Smart-ass may be more accurate.”

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?

“So Ms. Smart-and-feisty, to what do I owe the pleasure of being the object of your obsession?”

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 was…out 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 gentleman—the opposite of his true nature.

There appeared to be some type of business taking place—as 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 tables—none of which could Hero hear over the rumbling of the tracks—but 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, that’s 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 route—they checked—so at least Hero didn’t 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 true—which was probably a bad move in hindsight—and 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 didn’t 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 anyone’s guess. Hero certainly would’ve 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 hadn’t 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 couldn’t 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 attire—covered completely from head to toe—because otherwise they would likely be pulling pebbles out of their skin for weeks. As soon as they were sure they weren’t about to lose life or limb to the roaring train, they looked up just in time to see Villain roll and land—admittedly more gracefully than them—a 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 askew—the only visible sign of the chase Hero could find. It didn’t even look like he was breathing hard—which was ridiculous. Hero’s breaths were heavy enough to blow down a brick house, and they considered themselves to be in pretty good shape.

Putting aside Villain’s 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 couldn’t 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 device—plus, who knew if the case was waterproof—the 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 couldn’t 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.

“Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy a good long chase, but surely you must be getting tired by now,” came a voice from behind them that should have been breathless, and Hero cursed that it wasn’t.

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.

Hero’s 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 water’s 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.

“That’s cute,” 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.

“So what’s your plan? Toss your only bargaining chip in the river and hope for the best?” Villain inquired with an air of curiosity, as if this show was amusing to him.

“It’s simple. You leave, and this case lives for you to steal another day,” 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.

“I believe the only thief here is you.”

Hero thought Villain ended that correction with a chuckle, but it was honestly hard to hear with the raging river in the immediate background.

“Do you even know what’s in there?” He asked.

Hero, in fact, did not.

“Of course I do. How else would I know you wouldn’t want to risk losing it in a river,” Hero blustered with all the courage they could muster.

“It would be an inconvenience at best. You think I don’t have contingency plans? A tracker, perhaps?” Villain was much better at achieving a tone of nonchalance than Hero.

Hero had no idea if he was bluffing. They didn’t 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 Villain’s 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.

It’d be hard to hide a weapon in a suit that tight, but then again if it’s 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 didn’t mean he still wasn’t dangerous. If at all possible, Hero would still like to avoid a fight.

“Do you have a counter offer?”

“Yes. Give me the case, and they won’t have to clean your blood off the train pistons,” 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.

“Like Hell I’m just handing this over,” Hero scoffed as loudly as they could, “You wouldn’t 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 don’t involve traumatizing some poor train conductor.”

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 didn’t resist.

“You assume,” came a voice that was unmistakably filtered through gritted teeth, “that I would let you die.”

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.

“What? Still think you can outrun me? Go ahead. Try.”

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 couldn’t, they knew they couldn’t, but they couldn’t 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.

“Looking for this?” He asked lightly, pausing to study the tip with faux curiosity, “What were you going to do with it? A light jab, perhaps?” 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 didn’t cut deep, but the wound was dangerously close to their lungs.

“A slash? Or two?”

Villain caught Hero once on their upper arm and once on the opposite lower arm with shallow cuts as they attempted to block.

“Maybe something a little more substantial. The kidneys?”

Hero crabbed walked back as best they could, which wasn’t good enough. Villain descended atop them, intent clear in the movement of the blade.

“Shit, dude! What the fuck was in there?!”

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.

“So you’re a liar and a thief?” 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.

“Maybe you’ll find out when you get it for me,” He nearly whispered.

Hero blinked.

They pulled back slightly as hands grabbed onto their arms. Villain’s expression darkened.

“We’re getting up. Unless you need another reminder?” He questioned, brandishing the knife and holding it lightly to the inside of hero’s 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.

…

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)