Youre Gonna Go Far, Kid (Sequel To Spy?)

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.

Tags:

@atlaserine

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.

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.

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

#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.”

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.