Hero/villain Snippet - Tumblr Posts

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

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

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

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

Calling In Sick

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

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

“It’s Hero, dummy.”

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

“How did you get this number?”

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

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

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

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

“Because I’m sick!”

Hero coughed pitifully for emphasis.

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

Was this a joke?

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

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

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

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

“You remember the City Tower?”

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

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

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

“Twice, actually.”

“What do you mean ‘twice’-”

“City park?”

Damn it. The pond incident.

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

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

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

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

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

Now what?

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

Right. Think like a hero.

First order of business, save some people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And no sick days?

Hero must be truly miserable.

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

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

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

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

(Anything for my bestest beta-reader o7)

Hero and Villain Go To Build-a-Bear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you done, yet?”

Hero certainly was.

“Of course I’m not done!”

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

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

“IS THAT ME?!”

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

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

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

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

Hero blinked, equal parts impressed and creeped out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, this ordeal was coming to an end.

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

“We seem to be…out of those.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Villain simply smiled.

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

Shouldn’t a villain just steal it all?

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

Ah, the cost of heroics: several hundred dollars.

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

(Anything for my bestest beta-reader o7)

Hero and Villain Go To Build-a-Bear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you done, yet?”

Hero certainly was.

“Of course I’m not done!”

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

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

“IS THAT ME?!”

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

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

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

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

Hero blinked, equal parts impressed and creeped out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, this ordeal was coming to an end.

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

“We seem to be…out of those.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Villain simply smiled.

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

Shouldn’t a villain just steal it all?

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

Ah, the cost of heroics: several hundred dollars.

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.

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.

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.

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.

For the Greater Good

(Hero POV)

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

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

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

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

I took a few deep breaths and checked my watch.

2:02

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

I couldn’t leave.

Wouldn’t.

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

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

2:05

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you…need a minute?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go.”

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

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

I merely shook my head.

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

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

With every step I could feel my clarity returning.

I was going to be fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course their lack of foresight would become my responsibility.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didn’t think.

Couldn’t.

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

For the Greater Good

(Hero POV)

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

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

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

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

I took a few deep breaths and checked my watch.

2:02

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

I couldn’t leave.

Wouldn’t.

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

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

2:05

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you…need a minute?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go.”

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

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

I merely shook my head.

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

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

With every step I could feel my clarity returning.

I was going to be fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course their lack of foresight would become my responsibility.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didn’t think.

Couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

A Silent Movie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Hero breathed, “Oh.”

Villain sucked in a breath.

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

“I had no idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

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

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

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

A Silent Movie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Hero breathed, “Oh.”

Villain sucked in a breath.

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

“I had no idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

a hero teenager having a self destruction episode . maybe it's because they were too stressed but can't take it on to anything but themselves?, and a supervillain (who occasionally watch them from the sidelines) parent figure found them and comforting them:3 but hero doesn't want to be seen as vulnerable but supervillain reality checked them that they're still human and a literal kid at the end of the day ;;i hope thats ok sorry if its 2 specific >_<

Kinda short but I was feeling speedy. Hope this is similar enough!

Just a Kid

“You’re still just a kid, you know.”

Supervillain stood, hand wrapped around the upper arm of city’s teenage savior. They had pulled them aside from where they had found them in the City Square—where they were trying to challenge every villain in the city by broadcasting themselves on a jumbotron. Luckily, no other criminal would dare touch them when Supervillain was around.

That gave them time to talk.

“I’m not a kid!” the hero spit, trying unsuccessfully to wrench their arm out of the older villain’s grasp. Said villain shook their head disapprovingly.

“If your age starts with a one and it’s not in the triple digits-“

“I’m not a child,” Hero interrupted the mini-lecture to explain, “Children are innocent. I’m not. I let those people die. Me. I was supposed to save them.”

The supervillain had been at this way too long to be surprised by the words.

“That was never your responsibility,” they replied evenly, speaking in quite possibly the softest voice they had ever used.

Hero scoffed, “Those people that died. Those were kids.”

They turned away with the words.

“So what’s your plan then? Get yourself killed fighting a mob of villains and ensure you can never save anyone ever again?”

An unexpected sob racked the Hero’s shoulders.

Too harsh.

“Kid, it’s okay,” Supervillain backtracked, stepping forward, reaching towards the hunched hero.

“Don’t call me-“

Their objection was smothered by the thick fabric of the supervillain’s cape, which they were unceremoniously pressed against tightly, held in place by the villain’s arms.

A hug.

A comfort they didn’t deserve.

They tried to pull away, to no avail as Supervillain held strong.

“You’ve done so much more than anyone else,” they spoke above their head, much like how a parent would whisper words to comfort an upset child, “You’ve done enough.”

The hero fell apart in their arms, and the supervillain held them close, mumbling assurances and promises in an impossibly gentle tone.

They were going to be a kid again, Supervillain would make sure of it.

a hero teenager having a self destruction episode . maybe it's because they were too stressed but can't take it on to anything but themselves?, and a supervillain (who occasionally watch them from the sidelines) parent figure found them and comforting them:3 but hero doesn't want to be seen as vulnerable but supervillain reality checked them that they're still human and a literal kid at the end of the day ;;i hope thats ok sorry if its 2 specific >_<

Kinda short but I was feeling speedy. Hope this is similar enough!

Just a Kid

“You’re still just a kid, you know.”

Supervillain stood, hand wrapped around the upper arm of city’s teenage savior. They had pulled them aside from where they had found them in the City Square—where they were trying to challenge every villain in the city by broadcasting themselves on a jumbotron. Luckily, no other criminal would dare touch them when Supervillain was around.

That gave them time to talk.

“I’m not a kid!” the hero spit, trying unsuccessfully to wrench their arm out of the older villain’s grasp. Said villain shook their head disapprovingly.

“If your age starts with a one and it’s not in the triple digits-“

“I’m not a child,” Hero interrupted the mini-lecture to explain, “Children are innocent. I’m not. I let those people die. Me. I was supposed to save them.”

The supervillain had been at this way too long to be surprised by the words.

“That was never your responsibility,” they replied evenly, speaking in quite possibly the softest voice they had ever used.

Hero scoffed, “Those people that died. Those were kids.”

They turned away with the words.

“So what’s your plan then? Get yourself killed fighting a mob of villains and ensure you can never save anyone ever again?”

An unexpected sob racked the Hero’s shoulders.

Too harsh.

“Kid, it’s okay,” Supervillain backtracked, stepping forward, reaching towards the hunched hero.

“Don’t call me-“

Their objection was smothered by the thick fabric of the supervillain’s cape, which they were unceremoniously pressed against tightly, held in place by the villain’s arms.

A hug.

A comfort they didn’t deserve.

They tried to pull away, to no avail as Supervillain held strong.

“You’ve done so much more than anyone else,” they spoke above their head, much like how a parent would whisper words to comfort an upset child, “You’ve done enough.”

The hero fell apart in their arms, and the supervillain held them close, mumbling assurances and promises in an impossibly gentle tone.

They were going to be a kid again, Supervillain would make sure of it.

Ice Cream Truck

Hero was almost a block away from the city center, where they had gotten an alert that Villain was wreaking havoc in the park.

Their feet pounded on the concrete beneath them and sweat dripped from their brow. They slowed to a stop, bracing their hands on their knees and panting loudly.

Why did Villain have to choose the hottest day of the year to cause problems?

They simply hadn’t believed the thermometer when they started out on their patrol today. A reading in the triple digits was criminal, and Hero could not stand for illegal acts.

Unfortunately, there was no one to arrest but the sun.

They lifted their chest, ready to continue the dash to the scene under the heat of the baking sun, when a sight stopped them in their tracks.

Was it a mirage?

The sweet sound of questionably-creepy music flooded their ears.

Could it be?

It was.

A box-shaped trucked had just turned the corner towards them, painted in light blues and pinks and yellows, covered in youthful depictions of all kinds of different cold sweets and treats.

The triumph over evil would have to wait for another day.

A SpongeBob pop was calling their name.

Ice Cream Truck

Hero was almost a block away from the city center, where they had gotten an alert that Villain was wreaking havoc in the park.

Their feet pounded on the concrete beneath them and sweat dripped from their brow. They slowed to a stop, bracing their hands on their knees and panting loudly.

Why did Villain have to choose the hottest day of the year to cause problems?

They simply hadn’t believed the thermometer when they started out on their patrol today. A reading in the triple digits was criminal, and Hero could not stand for illegal acts.

Unfortunately, there was no one to arrest but the sun.

They lifted their chest, ready to continue the dash to the scene under the heat of the baking sun, when a sight stopped them in their tracks.

Was it a mirage?

The sweet sound of questionably-creepy music flooded their ears.

Could it be?

It was.

A box-shaped trucked had just turned the corner towards them, painted in light blues and pinks and yellows, covered in youthful depictions of all kinds of different cold sweets and treats.

The triumph over evil would have to wait for another day.

A SpongeBob pop was calling their name.

A Familiar Face

[Warnings: medical setting, coming out of sedation, IV mention]

Hero blinked, face contorting in a mix of confusion and discontent. Slowly, their surroundings came into view. A curtain, a small room cornered off by it, a figure by their feet. They laid on a bed lined with blue sheets with several white blankets layered over them. A nurse tapped quietly on a standing keyboard to their side.

They closed their eyes for another second, and when they opened them again the figure at their feet now loomed closer. It took a second, but Hero recognized the features peering down at them.

“Villain?!” They tried to exclaim, but it came out more as a cough. Their throat was dry and partially numb, making it difficult to form any subsequent words.

“What-“ they coughed again, falling into a short fit. The nurse laid a gentle hand on their arm, assuring them that that response was normal.

Momentarily distracted from their enemy’s presence in the room, Hero noticed their right arm feeling oddly cold. When they managed to untangle the limb from the sheets, an IV was revealed settled into the crook of their elbow.

Not that surprising, considering that it was there before they were put to sleep.

Hero gathered themselves, eventually able to ask weakly, “What are you doing here?”

“You asked me to drive you,” the villain replied, something disturbingly close to concern lurking behind their eyes as they gazed down at the formerly-sedated hero.

Hero narrowed their eyes suspiciously. They remembered signing in for the procedure, but they decidedly did not remember asking their nemesis to accompany them to the hospital.

“Yes, really. I can show you the paperwork if you want.”

Hero glanced to the nurse for help, but she too betrayed them with a confirmation.

Talk about being vulnerable, it didn’t get more trusting than asking your arch enemy to stay in the building while an anesthesiologist rendered you unconscious.

Hero didn’t have the energy to be concerned though, so they accepted the help of the rival that was shifting on their feet.

A change of clothes and a wheelchair ride later, Hero was settled into the front of the villain’s car, fully awake and ready to complain.

“I’m so hungry. Let’s stop at McDonald’s. I would die for some salty fries.”

“Sorry, you can’t eat yet,” Villain informed them apologetically.

Hero glanced at the clock and groaned.

“Some water, at least?” Hero begged.

“No on that too, I’m afraid.”

“What? So you just want me to starve?”

“Not me,” Villain replied easily, not bothering to take their eyes off the road to witness Hero’s grumbling, “Doctor’s orders.”

“So you let doctors do your dirty work now,” Hero huffed, crossing their arms over their chest.

They pointedly ignored the smile that spread across the criminal’s lips at their tantrum.

A long winded rant about dehydration followed.

When they were finally handed a water bottle an hour later, Villain had to snatch it right back out of their hands before they chugged it.

Don’t even get them started on the food an hour after that.

A New Nemesis

Villain fled on light feet, easily outmaneuvering the Hero that trailed closely behind them. Just a few more feet and they would be out the door and into the getaway car idling on the street.

Knowing they would need every second they could get in order to outrun Hero, Villain scanned the exit with ingenious eyes.

In a move indicative of a very large cerebrum, Villain slammed their palm into the silver disk attached to the wall. They headed straight for the doors, expecting them to part open just in time for their graceful escape. Instead, Villain barely had enough time to skid to a halt and avoid slamming into the glass. The door was indeed swinging open, just at the pace of an elderly snail taking an afternoon stroll.

Inch by inch the space between the door and the frame grew, and Villain waited for the precise moment before lunging forward.

Unfortunately, the delay was all Hero needed to catch up to the criminal. This time, a splat into the glass was unavoidable as Hero shoved their impatient form against the side of the door that was still closed. Cuffs clicked, and the villain let out an indignant grunt.

“You got lucky, Hero. If it wasn’t for these stupid doors-“

“What are you, a Scooby-Doo villain? ‘If it wasn’t for these meddling automatic openers’,” Hero mocked.

Villain scowled and their heavy breaths fogged up the pane they were pressed against. They had indeed been foiled by door of all things.

Hero continued, “Honestly, this is a little embarrassing for you, Villain.”

“Hey, you needed the help of a door to catch me. What’s so ‘embarrassing’ now?”

Mockingly, the door held its self open beside them, waiting for a phantom chase to pass through.

Villain wished they had tried to slam it in Hero’s face instead.

The Art of Being a Good Hostage

“This seems to be our favorite way of meeting,” Villain pointed out when he reached a less-than-amused Vigilante crouched in the group next to another vigilante with a substantial chest wound.

“I’d prefer if you just robbed a coffee shop next time,” she replied begrudgingly.

She stopped fretting over the man on the floor long enough to turn out her pockets and shake at her clothes dramatically. Immediately after she was finished, she turned away from Villain without a second thought.

Unfortunately, Villain was not done with her yet.

He dropped a large zip tie at her feet. She slowly looked down to where it had fallen, then back up to the villain, eyes filled with fire. This was going to be a fight.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she stated, as if to leave no room for argument.

“Put it on,” he rebutted, better accomplishing a tone of finality.

“I wouldn’t leave him.”

Vigilante looked back to the ground, and Villain was inclined to believe her. The vigilante had her convictions, and she stuck to them. Still, Villain had his.

“One hand, then. To his.” Villain nodded to the unconscious vigilante.

A compromise: and the best she would get.

Villain stayed long enough to watch Vigilante reluctantly follow the order and hear the click of the tightening restraint before moving further down the line. He pointedly ignored her defiant demeanor and unsavory hand gestures as he assessed the rest of the room.

He finished his count at fifteen fighters under his control. Most had substantial wounds, two were currently unconscious (but breathing; he checked) with Vigilante fairing the best off of all. That was to be expected with how she involved herself in these things, sidelines and damage control. From what Villain could tell, she mostly suffered a bleeding slash on her left leg, which she had already tended to, so he could probably trust she wouldn’t be running whether her hands were free or not.

Overall, not a bad hostage collection for Villain.

Vigilante had already taken care of most of the immediate first aid, tourniquets and makeshift splints scattered throughout the small crowd. Villain took the liberty of moving some of the injured around, grouping the most severe for closer supervision and restraining the less severe for security’s sake.

Speaking of Vigilante, she had not stopped aggressively staring daggers at his back since he had left her tied to her fellow vigilante. He pretended not to notice, but secretly he found it extremely amusing.

She was tenacious, he’d give her that.

The sound of a megaphone shouting outside the atrium signaled the arrival of the negotiation crew.

Showtime.

Villain scanned the group at his feet again, but he already had his relayer picked out. Who better than the queen of cooperation herself?

Villain strutted over to where Vigilante still sat awkwardly on her knees with a hand attached to her technical coworker. She didn’t look up from where she was studying his breathing, but it was obvious she sensed his approach from the scowl fixed on her face. He dropped a small multi tool in front of her.

“I trust I don’t need to threaten you?”

Vigilante just scoffed while clipping her restraint before rolling to her feet and rubbing passive-aggressively at her previously-tied wrist. This was not her first rodeo. She walked confidently towards the doors, albeit with a slight limp, slowing only to hear Villain call his instructions from behind her.

“Accept the phone. Keep it with you, but shut the door once you have it.”

She cracked open the door to retrieve the phone tossed on the ground there.

He didn’t really have much to worry about with her. In the field she was crafty, but once she had surrendered she stayed down. Being allowed around all kinds of operators to perform damage control required a certain level of trust, one that was extremely hard to build and extremely easy to break. She cared about saving lives, and did what she needed to make that possible.

Even if that meant being a mediator in a hostage situation on behalf of the man holding her hostage.

“They want to talk to you,” she called from near the blacked-out windows on the other side of the lobby.

“Not happening. I demand a delivery.”

“What kind?”

“They’ll know.”

Vigilante spoke hushed into the phone, but knowingly loud enough for the villain to listen in. She repeated what he told her with a little bit of theatrical fear, just as a little special touch.

“Tell them I’m willing to let Hero go,” he added. Hero was the only one who hadn’t woken up yet, undoubtedly afflicted by something serious. Villain shot his body a glance from where he stood stationed by the most severe. His pulse was still detectable, but not by much.

“A good will offering?” She questioned, covering the speaker, then teased, “So unlike you, especially so early in a negotiation.”

The criminal merely shrugged, not rising to the bait.

“Call it what you want.”

He caught the smile she tried to hide as she relayed the newest information to the negotiator on the call.

She trusted they would all be going home safe in the end.